Bela Kiss | Page 2

ever since his young wife had gone.
III
Soon he resumed his business visits to Budapest, usually leaving the house in the afternoon and often not returning until midnight and after. Very naturally the woman Kalman was questioned by her friends as to the condition of the house of the poor grief-stricken man. It was also but natural that she should describe to her neighbours what she had seen -- how, though forbidden to enter the room where the erring wife's clothes were displayed, she had entered it in secret while her patient was asleep, and passing through it had peered through the keyhole of the room beyond, where she saw five large tin drums ranged along by the wall.
The old woman's curiosity had been aroused by sight of these, and soon her friends, to whom she described what she had seen, suspected the eccentric, grief-stricken man to be in league with some illicit distillers who had their secret factory somewhere in the neighbourhood. The gossips were naturally sorely puzzled to account for those big receptacles for fluid. Some laughed and said that he had a big store of wine bought at the previous year's vintage. Littman, his neighbour and confidant, hearing about it, one day mentioned to him what the old woman Kalman had seen, whereupon Kiss laughed heartily and replied:
"Well, that is really amusing! They think I am one of those who distil alcohol against the law and sell it in secret to the night caf?s in Budapest -- eh? Well, let them think so! I would be afraid to engage in such a dangerous trade, lucrative as it is. No. The fact is that I have my store of petrol here. I bought it cheaply from a man who was about to be made bankrupt."
Quickly the truth went round the village, and suspicion was at once allayed. Indeed, a man of such exemplary conduct as Bela Kiss surely could never be engaged in any illicit transactions.
Once Littman expressed surprise that he had not followed the runaway pair and divorced his wife. To this, Kiss replied: "If they are happy in Vienna, as I hear they are, why should I wreck her life? I loved her more than anything on earth. So that is enough. I was a fool! That's all!" And refused to discuss the matter further.
From that moment, however, suspicions regarding Kiss became increased. His many journeys to Budapest were regarded as mysterious, and an evil-tongued woman who distrusted him declared that he practised black magic. He had drawn the horoscope of a woman of her acquaintance who believed in astrology, and thus a fresh theory was set up to account for his aloofness and eccentricity.
Whenever he motored to Budapest, as he did twice a week, it was noted that he never returned until early hours of the morning, when the whole village was asleep. The villagers heard his noisy, ramshackle car speeding through the streets homeward bound. Of money this retired tinsmith had plenty. The village policeman, who, by the way, had also had his curiosity aroused by the malicious gossip, struck up an acquaintance with, and soon discovered him to be real good fellow, kind, generous and hospitable. They often spent evenings together, for the representative of the law was, in addition to Littman, the only person he ever invited to cross his threshold since his wife's flight. The constable naturally reported the result of his inquiries to his chief, and all suspicions were set to rest.
IV
One wintry morning in January 1914, the exquisitely dressed Bela Kiss was seen walking with a pretty young woman, also handsomely attired in furs, about half a mile from the village and this fact, which soon got about, gave rise to the theory that the disillusioned husband had fallen in love again. The gossips kept watch, but only on that one occasion was the lady seen. It was, no doubt, an illicit meeting, for the well-dressed lady had, it was known, come from Budapest and had spent the day with her admirer.
About a month later a farmer driving from Czinkota to Rakosfalva noticed a man and a woman walking in the afternoon along a secluded footpath on the edge of a wood, and on approaching recognised Kiss arm in arm with a well-dressed young girl, to whom he was earnestly talking. The spot was nearly four miles from the village, and near by stood Kiss's old motor-car, muddy and unwashed.
Just about that time a strange story was told to the police of the Josefvaros quarter in Budapest by a young girl named Luisa Ruszt, daughter of a well-known draper in the Karoly Korut, one of the principal shopping thoroughfares.
She said that one evening she had met a man in the Somossy variety theatre, and he had taken her next day