styan demanded a change of
raiment, and Timar let him take clothes and shirts. But at last the
blackmailer's demands became too insolent, and Timar drove him out of
the house.

And now it seemed to Timar that his own career was finished. This
ruffian Krisstyan could expose the foundation of his wealth, and how
could he live discredited before the world?

On the frozen water there were great fissures between the blocks of ice.
Within the waves of the lake death would come quickly. Timar walked out
on the ice, and there before him the head of Theodor Krisstyan rose in
the water and then sank. The spy had not known the treachery of the
fissures.

Timar fled to the ownerless island, and when the corpse of Krisstyan was
discovered, in an advanced stage of decomposition, Timea declared she
recognized her husband's clothes.

So the body of Theodor Krisstyan was buried with great pomp, and a year
later Timea married Major Katschuka, and then, haunted by the doubt
whether her first husband was really dead, pined away.

No blessing rested on the wealth Timar left behind him. The only son
Timea bore to the major was a great spendthrift, and in his hands the
fabulous wealth vanished as quickly as it had grown.

* * * * *

And what is passing meanwhile on the ownerless island?

Forty years have passed since Timar's disappearance from Komorn, and the
island is now a complete model farm. Recently, a friend of mine, an
ardent naturalist, took me to the island. I had heard as a child of
Timar and his wealth.

Every inch of ground is utilised or serves to beautify the place. The
tobacco grown here has the most exquisite aroma, and the beehives look
from a distance like a small town with many-shaped roofs.

It is easy to see that the owner of the island understands luxury, and
yet that owner never has a farthing to call his own; no money ever
enters the island. Those however, who need the exports know also the
requirements of the islanders, and bring them for barter.

The whole colony consisted of one family, and each was called only by
his Christian name. The six sons of the first settler had married women
of the district, and the numbers of grandchildren and
great-grandchildren already exceeded forty, but the island maintained
them all. Poverty was unknown; they lived in luxury; each knew some
trade, and if they had been ten times as many, their labour would have
supported them.

When we ar