way!"

But there was a third one, the liveliest of all, who followed in the
wake of the second one, and each time Gyuri thought he had attained his
end, this demon turned round, and laughed in his face, saying: "There is
nothing here!"

Sztolarik kept his countenance, and carefully examined the handle of the
umbrella, as though he were admiring the work.

"Had it always this same handle?" he asked.

"Oh dear no, this is of real silver, and very finely chased. The
jeweller in Besztercebanya made it, and he is quite an artist. Just look
at the style, and what taste is displayed in it. My parishioners had it
made last summer as a surprise for me while I was away at the baths. The
old handle had been broken off, and it was almost impossible to make use
of the umbrella. I expect it was Klincsok's idea, for he started the
collection. There are still plenty of good Christian hearts to be
found."

Then he turned to Gyuri.

"I will introduce you to Klincsok, he is a very worthy man."

Gyuri wished the worthy Klincsok in Jericho, and he could even have
found him a companion for the journey, for behind him was the first
demon, again whispering: "Go and look for your inheritance!"

"But I suppose they kept the old handle?" he asked.

"I do not think so," answered the priest. "It was only of common wood; I
believe Mrs. Adamecz asked Veronica for it."

(It must have been the second demon speaking through the priest: "The
handle of the umbrella is in Mrs. Adamecz's possession.")

Sztolarik now became curious too.

"Who is Mrs. Adamecz?" he asked.

"My old cook, who just now brought me the keys."

Mr. Sztolarik burst out laughing, the walls of the empty church
re-echoing with the sound. When they were outside, and the priest had
gone in with the keys, the old lawyer took the two rings out of the
paper they were wrapped in and pressed them into Gyuri's palm, saying
quaintly:

"According to your logic of half an hour ago, you must now marry old
Mrs. Adamecz, so go and ask for her hand at once."

Gyuri gave no answer to this cruel thrust, and went into the kitchen,
where the widow was frying pancakes.

"I say, Mrs. Adamecz, where have you put the old handle of the church
umbrella?"

Widow Adamecz finished frying her pancake, put it on a wooden platter
with those she had already fried, and then turned round to see who was
speaking to her.

"What have I done with the old handle, my dear? Well, you see, this is
how