omething else, and
it may be you will never find it at all. And what a life you could lead,
what a lot you could do with the money. You could drive a four-in-hand,
drink champagne, keep a lot of servants. A new world, a new life would
be open to you. And to possess all this you only need a little luck; but
as you have none at present, take up your pen again, my friend, and go
on writing out deeds and bills, and squeezing a few florins out of the
poor Slovaks."

It was a great pity he had heard anything about the missing treasure. He
felt it himself, and often said he wished he knew nothing about it, and
would be very glad if something were to happen which would go to prove
that the treasure did not really exist; for instance, if some one would
remark:

"Oh, yes, I met old Gregorics once in Monte Carlo; he was losing his
money as fast as he could."

But no such thing happened; on the contrary, new witnesses were always
turning up to assure him: "Old Gregorics must certainly have left an
immense fortune, which he intended you to have. Don't you really know
anything about it?"

No, he knew nothing at all about it, but his thoughts were always
running on the subject, spoiling all his pleasure in life. The promising
youth had really become only half a man, for he had two separate and
distinct persons in him. Sometimes he entirely gave himself up to the
idea that he was the child of a servant, and began to feel he had
attained to a really good position by means of his own work, and was
happy and contented in this thought. But only a word was needed to make
the lawyer a totally different man. He was now the son of rich old Pal
Gregorics, waiting to find and take possession of his property. And from
time to time he suffered all the pangs of Tantalus, and left his office
to look after itself for weeks at a time, while he went to Vienna to
look up some of his father's old acquaintances.

The rich carriage-builder, who had bought Gregorics's house in Vienna,
gave him valuable information.

"Your father," he said, "once told me when I paid him for the house,
that he should put the money in some bank, and asked me which would be
the best and safest way to set to work about it."

Gyuri wandered then from one bank to another, but without success.
Thoroughly worn out he returned to Besztercebanya with the full
intention of not thinking any more about the subject.

"I am not going on making a fool of myself," he said. "I won't