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diff --git a/78700-h/78700-h.htm b/78700-h/78700-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..83b55c3 --- /dev/null +++ b/78700-h/78700-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,18140 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + +<head> + +<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + +<link rel="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Trail of the White Knight, +by Bruce Graeme +</title> + +<style> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 1.5em } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 2em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</style> + +</head> + + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78700 ***</div> + + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + <i>HARRAP'S SHILLING LIBRARY</i><br> +</p> + +<h1> +<br><br> + <i>THE TRAIL OF THE<br> + WHITE KNIGHT</i><br> +</h1> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + <i>By</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="t2"> + <i>BRUCE GRAEME</i><br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + <i>Author of<br> + "Blackshirt," "La Belle Laurine," etc.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + GEORGE G. HARRAP & CO. LTD.<br> + LONDON BOMBAY SYDNEY<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + <i>First published October</i> 1920<br> + by GEORGE G. HARRAP & Co., LTD<br> + 39-41 Parker Street, Kingsway, London, W.C.2.<br> + <i>Reprinted:</i> 1926; 1928; 1930; 1931; 1932.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + <i>Printed at Parkgate Printing Works, Dublin, by</i> CAHILL & Co., LTD.,<br> + <i>London and Dublin</i><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +<i>HARRAP'S SHILLING LIBRARY</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + 1. Pollyooly. Edgar Jepson.<br> + 2. The Chinese Parrot. Earl Derr Biggers.<br> + 3. Bluefeather. Laurence W. Meynell.<br> + 4. The Gillespie Suicide Mystery. Leonard R. Gribble.<br> + 5. Death's Eye. Laurence W. Meynell.<br> + 6. The Cathra Mystery. Adam Gordon Macleod.<br> + 7. The Marloe Mansions Murder. Adam Gordon Macleod.<br> + 8. Behind that Curtain. Earl Derr Biggers.<br> + 9. The Mayfair Mystery. Henry Holt.<br> + 10. The Death Gong. Selwyn Jepson.<br> + 11. Blackshirt. Bruce Graeme.<br> + 12. The Return of Blackshirt. Bruce Graeme.<br> + 13. The Trail of the White Knight. Bruce Graeme.<br> + 14. The House of Fear. R. W. Service.<br> + 15. Dead Men's Money. J. S. Fletcher.<br> + 16. The Chestermarke Instinct. J. S. Fletcher.<br> + 17. The Death of Laurence Vining. Alan Thomas.<br> + 18. Inspector Frost's Jigsaw. H. Maynard Smith.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap00b"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +THE TRAIL OF THE WHITE KNIGHT +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<h2> +<i>PROLOGUE</i> +</h2> + +<p class="t3"> +I +</p> + +<p> +"Say again you love me," she pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +"Silly one! Have I not already told you more +times than I can count?" he chided. +</p> + +<p> +She pouted slightly. "Yes, dear one; but a woman +can never hear too often the words which mean so +much to her." +</p> + +<p> +"A woman!" The man laughed softly. "You are +not a woman, Zita. Why, you have yet to see your +nineteenth birthday. You are still nothing but a +child—yet—I love you, Zita." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you then a grandfather, big Mr Englishman?" +she mocked. +</p> + +<p> +"No, but it is more than a month ago now since I +celebrated my twenty-fifth birthday." +</p> + +<p> +The next few minutes were spent in silence as they +walked along the shady paths of Margaret Island. +Romance infused the soft, warm air of the July night +with its subtle infection; the surroundings in which +these two walked were reminiscent of Paradise. +</p> + +<p> +On their right the darkness of the night was +emphasized by the many beautiful trees, the shadows +of which, cast by the silvery light of the moon above, +were delicately traced upon the soft sward beneath, +and the simple majesty of the woods was disturbed +only by the bright lights of an electric tramcar, as it +flashed past, raucously, clangingly making its way +from one end of the island to the other. +</p> + +<p> +On their left the scene was still more beautiful, for +past them swiftly flowed the broad Danube, silently +racing toward its outlet in the Black Sea, carrying on +its bosom the broad-bottomed boats of commerce. +</p> + +<p> +Just now these barges seemed like quaint, black +shadows, moving with an eerie silence. There were, +however, other craft, steamboats, which shimmered +and twinkled, their reflected lights dancing merrily up +and down upon the water. These were the vessels +which conveyed the people across from either end of +Margaret Island. +</p> + +<p> +On the bank opposite was the old town of Ofen, +better known as Buda. From where the couple stood, +quiet in the thoughts which gripped them, they could +see the lights of the royal palace scintillating in the +darkness. +</p> + +<p> +From the upper end of the island they could hear +faintly the plashing of superfluous water as, from the +bath-house, it falls in a pretty cascade into the pond +beneath. +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey Templeton wondered if there could possibly +be any other place in the world so wonderful as +this, while Zita looked up at his strong profile, thrown +into relief by the ethereal light above, and smiled +slightly to herself, for she too was idealizing, +contemplating whether there could be another man in this +world so splendid as he. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at the moon, and even as she gazed +upward a small black cloud passed beneath, quite +obscuring its silvery sheen. Coincidently she +remembered that on the morrow Geoffrey was to return to +England, his holiday at an end. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Geoffrey, dear heart," she murmured softly, +"must you indeed depart to-morrow for your cold, +cheerless England?" +</p> + +<p> +He turned toward her, and, acting on the impulse +of the moment, seized her dainty hands within his and +pressed them passionately. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I could say otherwise," he muttered +hoarsely, "for I would ask nothing better than to +stop here with you always; but I have no option. We +must part, darling, for six months. It shall not be +longer, I swear it. After all," he continued, "six +months is but a short time, and then, when I return, +we can be married. Cheer up, little one, only twenty-four +weeks, and then.... Smile, Zita, for this night +is our last one together, and it hurts me to see you +sad." +</p> + +<p> +Gently releasing her fingers, and catching her chin +with his right hand, he lifted her face gently so that +they gazed into one another's eyes. Pluckily she +attempted to smile, but instead a tiny tear, escaping, +rolled down her cheek, and seeing this Geoffrey drew +nearer to her, kissing it away before it found time to +drop. +</p> + +<p> +Quickly the hours sped by while they talked of the +past.... Once again he made her laugh as he +reminded her of the time when he could talk no +Hungarian, when she, taking pity on his plight, instructed +him, until now he was proficient in the Magyar +language. +</p> + +<p> +They spoke of the future, the far-off time when he +should return to Budapest and claim her for his own, +and together they planned the time-to-be, discussed +how long they would spend in England with his people, +and how long in Budapest with hers. +</p> + +<p> +From not far away there was a discreet cough from +Zita's chaperon, and Geoffrey looked, dismayed, at his +watch. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, darling, this must be good night ... and +<i>au revoir</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Quickly the ferry conveyed them from the island +back to Buda again, where he hired a <i>fiacre</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Back at her home, the wise and kindly chaperon +discreetly disappeared; once again Geoffrey clasped +his future wife in his arms, and, kissing the brimming +tears away, made his <i>adieux</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"In six months I shall return," were his last words, +and the next moment he was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Early the next morning Geoffrey left for Paris; +before him England, behind him Budapest, the city +of smiles, gaiety, and happiness. +</p> + +<p> +"In six months I shall return." +</p> + +<p> +The words echoed in his ears, and the hum of the +wheels of the <i>wagon-lit</i> repeated after him: "Six +months, six months!" +</p> + +<p> +Once he looked out of the window, but he saw +only an ominous haze away in the east, heavy banks +of thunder-laden clouds, obscuring his last view of +Budapest. +</p> + +<p> +Even as the looming storm rolled up from the east +that morning so did other clouds spring up, this time +political, born of a tiny puff of blue smoke which was +slowly emitted from the barrel of a revolver, held in +the hands of a fanatic; and less than a month later +followed the whirlwind, and the upheaval of Europe. +Geoffrey's dream was past, buried in the heart of the +bloody battlefield. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +II +</p> + +<p> +The War was over! Peace had come again to +Germany, France, England, Italy, and the United +States. Over these countries there was once more +contentment, the happiness of a quickly reviving industry. +The echoing boom of guns was no longer heard, air-raids +were already but a memory, telegraph boys ceased +to be of heartrending significance. +</p> + +<p> +Already war-scarred warriors were being demobilized; +ex-soldiers were returning to more peaceful employment; +food, diverted from its destination—headquarters—was +becoming plentiful, of a better quality. +</p> + +<p> +War was over! Now only time was needed, and +these countries would be their old selves again. In +Paris the statesmen were collecting to discuss peace +terms and reparations. +</p> + +<p> +This was the position in March 1919 of the victors, +and even of some of the vanquished. Germany, beaten +and cowed, was now putting its house in order. Turkey, +philosophically shrugging its shoulders, was merely +resuming life where it had been left off. +</p> + +<p> +So busy were the victors celebrating victory, so +engaged were the vanquished making the best of their +defeat, that the world overlooked one country where +peace had failed to find a harbour, where post-War +conditions were worse than during that awful period +of war itself, the country in which human jackals and +vultures were already gathered to disrupt and dissect +an already breaking empire—Hungary. +</p> + +<p> +Upon Hungary Lenin, from the fastnesses of +Moscow, had already cast his eyes, and so he sent out +his lieutenants, schooled in fiendish cruelty, inculcated +with inhuman conceptions of government. +</p> + +<p> +To Hungary came Bela Kun, the chief apostle of +Lenin and Trotsky, where, in an incredibly short time, +he enrolled under his banner of Communism criminals +of all types, and elected leaders: Bohm, Pogany, +Agoston, Harcoq, and Szamuelly. +</p> + +<p> +"Down with the <i>bourgeoisie</i>, long live the +proletariat!" became the cry, and to the echo of these +hysterical screams poor Hungary commenced the +worst year throughout the pages of its history, +during which it was to live under a reign of terror worse +even than the French Revolution. +</p> + +<p> +To Budapest, a seething hotbed of Communism, +came Geoffrey Templeton in search of the girl of +whom he had dreamed during the long years of war, +the woman he had never forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +Arriving at the East station, he was amazed by the +dark, dismal gloominess of the once glorious terminus. +Where before had wandered well-dressed travellers, +rubbing shoulders with gaily uniformed officers of +the Hungarian army, now slouched slovenly men and +starving women, while deeper in the gloom lurked +ominous shadows. +</p> + +<p> +On all sides suspicious glances were levelled at him +from wolf-like faces. Here and there he espied men +in leather uniforms, their caps blazoning Red cockades, +their belts an armoury in themselves. They were +the dreaded Lenin Boys, a troop of murderers and +criminals, under the command of Josef Cserni, ex-sailor +and late prisoner of war in Russia. +</p> + +<p> +These Lenin Boys were guaranteed immunity from +all punishment for murder or any other crime so +long as their activities were confined to the hated +<i>bourgeoisie</i> and did not involve the death of notable +Bolsheviks. +</p> + +<p> +Their very appearance was terrifying, for they were +chosen for their height and fiery appearance. As +Geoffrey walked toward the entrance one of these +Boys pushed against him. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Bourgeois</i>," he hiccuped, and spat on the ground. +</p> + +<p> +With blazing eyes Geoffrey turned round, and the +soldier slunk away. There was a hoarse laugh from +one of the onlookers, but otherwise no one took any +notice of this incident. +</p> + +<p> +It was in vain that Geoffrey searched for a vehicle +to convey him to an hotel. No public conveyances of +any kind were to be seen, only here and there a charging +motor-car, occupied, so far as he could see, by groups +of soldiers, or Communists, distinguishable by their +criminal countenances, their scarlet decorations. +</p> + +<p> +He realized that to get anywhere he would have to +walk, and so, picking up his bag, he began to traverse +the darkened streets. Here and there street-lights +reflected upon advertisement hoardings, blazing with +Red posters, huge placards printed in red and black, +portraying immense and ghastly figures. +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey heard a sound of pattering footsteps behind +him. Out of the dim shadows came the running figure +of a man, breathing hoarsely. He passed in a flash, +and then the Englishman heard other following steps, +and hoarse shouting. +</p> + +<p> +"Long live the Dictatorship of the Proletariat!" +some one cried, then suddenly there roared the sound +of a shot, and a street-light just ahead flicked out as +its encasing glass tinkled to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +"Death to the <i>bourgeois</i>! Death!" +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey halted suddenly, startled. What had +happened? Was this Hungary, the Budapest he knew so +well? From a distance he heard more shouts, further +shots, and then silence once again. +</p> + +<p> +"Good Gad!" he muttered to himself. "I thought +this was peace." +</p> + +<p> +He had never dreamed, never imagined, when he had +set out for Budapest to go to his beloved, that he was +to meet with this sort of thing. An icy chill seemed +to settle round his heart. What of Zita? +</p> + +<p> +For the first time since his demobilization his spirits +fell to zero. For two weeks now he had been living in +a Paradise of his own, eagerly anticipating the moment +when he should clasp the girl he loved—woman, she +would be now—once more in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +He had had no reason to believe that this—this +ghastly business was taking place in Budapest. "Death +to the <i>bourgeoisie</i>!" What did it mean? Revolution! +No, not even that, but worse. +</p> + +<p> +With a white, set face he picked up his bag once +more and commenced to walk. Now and again the +silence was disturbed by hurrying motor-cars, shouts, +or sometimes shots. The streets were practically +empty, and at this Geoffrey did not wonder any +longer. +</p> + +<p> +Later, he arrived at the Continental Hotel, a memory +of its palatial splendour still existing in his mind, but +now it resembled nothing more than a filthy building, +its exterior no cleaner than its interior, which was +littered with dirt, and smelled evilly. +</p> + +<p> +There were still guests—unkempt, unwashed men +and women who lounged about, spitting and smoking. +He stared with amazement at the scene before him, +disbelieving the evidence of his own eyes. +</p> + +<p> +He was accosted presently by a clerk, who slouched +up to him. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you want?" the man growled. +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey eyed him silently. "A room," he said +presently, and the clerk, under the Englishman's fixed +glance, stirred uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +"Supposing we have not got one?" he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Supposing you look," replied Geoffrey quietly. +</p> + +<p> +The clerk gave ground. Entering his counter he +banged a bell, and a <i>pinczer</i> approached. +</p> + +<p> +"Take this man up to room 61," he ordered. +</p> + +<p> +Without a word the waiter picked up Geoffrey's bag +and led the way, working the lift himself. +</p> + +<p> +Room 61 was no cleaner than the vestibule. As +the electric light threw its white glare over the room +Geoffrey saw dozens of blackbeetles swarming into +hidden crannies. +</p> + +<p> +The waiter hesitated. Geoffrey put his hand in his +pocket and pulled out some coins. "Come inside and +shut the door," he ordered, then presently, when the +other had complied, and received a tip which made his +eyes glisten, asked: "Now, what does all this mean? +The War——" +</p> + +<p> +"The War!" The man laughed bitterly. "Not +the War, sir, but revolution, Communism, Bolshevism." His +face became suspicious, and his lips closed tightly. +"Why do you ask me? You know as well as I do." +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey shook his head. "I do not. I have only +just arrived from England." +</p> + +<p> +The waiter looked up eagerly. "You are English, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"I was frightened. There are spies, detectives, and +<i>agents provocateurs</i> everywhere." +</p> + +<p> +"Spies, detectives—I don't understand!" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir, you wouldn't. You have won the War, +and we have lost. It makes all the difference. Hungary +is now a republic—worse, in fact, for we have a Soviet +Government." +</p> + +<p> +"Good God!" Geoffrey was astounded, but recollections +of Zita made him urge the older man on with his +story. "Tell me more," he suggested. +</p> + +<p> +"It all began with Count Michael Karolyi. He +formed a republic, with himself at the helm. Not for +long, sir. The Communists took the lead under Bela +Kun, two days ago, and now we have the Commune, +another word for murder and pillage. +</p> + +<p> +"I have heard it said that Szamuelly wants a three +days' loot, three days during which the comrades, the +Communists, can steal and sack to their hearts' content. +It may happen at any minute. Sir, I cannot tell you how +bad it is!" Two tears forced themselves out of the +man's eyes and slowly rolled down his puckered cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"You see," he continued presently, "myself, I am +too old for these ideas. You grand folks, you treat the +likes of us well. I used to make good money before +the War came and spoilt it all." +</p> + +<p> +"But what of the rich people, I mean the people +who used to stay here? What of them?" +</p> + +<p> +The waiter shook his head slowly. "All penniless, +sir, penniless. Their money confiscated, their property +stolen." He dropped his voice. "Many of them are +... dead, murdered." +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey seemed only to hear his voice from a +distance as the man continued. There was a buzzing in +his ears, and his head was reeling. What of Zita? +What of her? Supposing that she were ... dead! +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, God!" he moaned, and with an imperious +motion he stopped the waiter, and strode up and down. +Presently he turned again to the other. "Tell me," he +asked anxiously, "has anything happened to the people +in the Erzebet-Korut?" +</p> + +<p> +It was in the Erzebet-Korut that Zita lived with her +father and mother, the Count and Countess Rakoczy. +</p> + +<p> +The man scratched his head. "I have heard tell +of—and yet—no, sir, I am not sure." +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey could have shaken him by the shoulders. +"Go, now!" he cried, and the old man passed out. +</p> + +<p> +It was too late that night to do anything. Geoffrey +undressed and threw himself into bed, yet scarcely +slept. He tossed and turned from side to side, but all +the time he could picture only Zita, who appeared to +be vaguely holding out her arms to him, just as she had +done when he had left her, over four years ago. +</p> + +<p> +Sick with apprehension, he heard the hours gradually +strike one after another, and never was dawn more +welcome. He hastily dressed. +</p> + +<p> +Not waiting for breakfast, he hurried to the Erzebet-Korut, +and was relieved to find that, if outside appearances +could be taken as any criterion, nothing had +happened to the Rakoczy residence, since, except for +its dirty condition, it seemed untouched. +</p> + +<p> +With a trembling heart he approached the entrance, +and was presently admitted. +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes later a white-faced man reeled out, +stunned by the news he heard, the story he had been +told by the dying Countess, the tale of how the +Count, for his patriotic resistance to Communism, had +been proscribed an outlaw by Bela Kun, and had fled, +accompanied by Zita, for his life. +</p> + +<p> +Zita and her kindly white-haired father outlaws in +their own country, liable to be shot at any moment! +Geoffrey groaned. It seemed unbelievable! Only by +an effort of will did he become his normal self again +as he walked back to the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately the Countess had been able to give him +the address to which her tiny family had fled, a small +peasant cottage in Szugy on the Ipoly. +</p> + +<p> +Thither went Geoffrey, his vague haunting fear growing +stronger as the train advanced sluggishly through +the quiet countryside. The hours passed slowly, but at +length the train steamed into Balassagyarmat. Later +Geoffrey arrived at Szugy. +</p> + +<p> +Everything seemed quiet and peaceful—ominously +so. There was a sense of brooding hurt, a solemn hush. +Yard by yard Geoffrey advanced nearer to his destination, +and all the time his heart beat a wild tattoo, though +now it was because of his nearness to Zita. At last he +was really to see her, to feel her within his arms. +</p> + +<p> +At last! A small cottage was before him. In front +of it bloomed early spring flowers, and the grass +sprouted greenly. A narrow flagged path led up to +the door, and along this Geoffrey stepped. Another +few moments, a second only... +</p> + +<p> +The door was slightly open, and there was no answer +to his knocks. There was a slight smell, a tang which +he could not define. +</p> + +<p> +He pushed the door open and stepped inside. +</p> + +<p> +The tang was that of blood, freshly spilled blood, +that of the old Count, whose gentle heart had brought +him unwavering popularity wherever he went. +</p> + +<p> +He had been playing chess at the time. Even now +the chessboard and the pieces still remained on the +table: red <i>versus</i> white, red winning, the white king +in check to them. +</p> + +<p> +On the floor lay the Count—dead. Opposite sat +Zita, still and motionless, her staring, horrified eyes +fixed with a peculiar intensity in front of her. +</p> + +<p> +Calmly Geoffrey inspected the scene in front of him, +quietly viewing the tragedy. Only his eyes flickered +strangely. He moved more into the room, and bent +over the corpse. As he had thought. Bayonet wounds, +here, there, and everywhere. The helpless old man +had been literally stabbed to death by brutal, bestial +murderers, pawns of Bela Kun, the Dictator of the +Proletariat. +</p> + +<p> +Zita was untouched. She had died as she watched +her father's death, her heart giving way under the +strain, her hand clutching a chess-piece, a piece which, +had she finished her move, would have released the +white king from check by taking a red pawn. +</p> + +<p> +The piece was—a white knight. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER I</i> +</h2> + +<p> +The surging crowds, swaying, shuffling, +grumbling, waited impatiently in the grim +Parliament Square, as yet lit but faintly by +the dawning from the east. +</p> + +<p> +A motley crew, a corrupt community; the scene +was but a typical picture of Budapest and all Hungary +in the grip of revolution, a revolt of the proletariat for +government by the proletariat, the shadow of Lenin +falling upon an unhappy country, already torn by years of +recent strife and earlier suppression. +</p> + +<p> +A country, monarchist to the core, now ground down +by Soldiers' Councils and Workers' Councils, headed +by the Russian-taught Bela Kun, and the bloodthirsty +tyrant Tibor Szamuelly, his Terror Boys, and the +merciless Korvin-Klein. Unhappy Hungary! +</p> + +<p> +Down through the ages have trickled histories of the +French Revolution, the people <i>versus</i> the '<i>aristos</i>.' Too +well is known the toll of Madame Guillotine, and the +cruel justice of Robespierre. There have been written +histories of the Revolution, of the howling mobs, the +vampire women; readers have felt a saddened pain at +the thought of fleeing <i>émigrés</i>, driven from their own +country, the land of their birth. +</p> + +<p> +Yet how many are aware that in less than a year +more horrible deeds, more bloodthirsty deaths occurred +during the dictatorship of Bela Kun than during all the +years of the French Revolution? +</p> + +<p> +Even in the crowd which waited this morning there +were whispers of horrible tortures: of men, whose only +crime was that of belonging to the hated <i>bourgeoisie</i>, +who were strung up by the hands and gagged with the +lighted ends of cigars and cigarettes; of others who +were bayoneted by the Terror Boys, and flung into a +newly dug grave and buried, even while the breath +still remained in their bodies. +</p> + +<p> +Other tales there were also, all too true unfortunately, +of prisoners of Szamuelly, of the proletariat, who were, +incredible as it may sound, flayed alive by their own +countrymen. +</p> + +<p> +Murder, theft, blackmail! These were not crimes—merely +the prerogative of the proletariat. To be a +<i>bourgeois</i>! There was no worse sin in the calendar of +Dante; and so the towns and villages of Hungary ran +red with the blood of the Hungarians, and all because +the shadow of Lenin fell upon the unhappy land. +</p> + +<p> +"Well done, Bela Kun! Well done, Szamuelly!" +applauded Lenin, and, thus encouraged, these two flung +the war-battered country into the maelstrom of bloody +revolution, unheeded by the outside world, for all Europe +was itself only just free of the throes of a ghastly war. +</p> + +<p> +Not a soul to aid the unhappy victims, not a man to +stretch out a helping hand—save one. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"They keep us waiting. See the rope swinging. It +is waiting too; it has good work to do these days. A +good piece of hemp, comrade. It must love the blasted +<i>bourgeoisie</i>, it embraces them so closely. Maybe, though, +it's bullets to-day. A little piece of lead makes a nice +hole, eh! a nice hole!" +</p> + +<p> +The speaker grinned evilly, and his companion +chuckled likewise. They were two of the many who +waited, two Red-cockaded workmen who were there to +see men hanged to satisfy the sated appetite of Korvin-Klein. +</p> + +<p> +"They are a long time. Perhaps they are holding a +trial." +</p> + +<p> +The one who answered was a contrast to his companion, +for the first speaker was as tall as Comrade +George Garami was short, and as scarred as the other +was unpleasant. They might have been a source of +humour, these two, to the hundreds who surrounded +them, but people did not laugh much these days. +</p> + +<p> +"Pah!" The tall man spat. "Korvin-Klein knows +how to treat the pigs. Trials! What do they want +trials for? That is what I ask you, comrade. What do +they want with trials? Hang them, I say, and quickly." +</p> + +<p> +"Me too," agreed Garami, "but Bela Kun says the +Allies may interfere." +</p> + +<p> +The other man scowled. "Not they. The more we +kill the better they will be pleased. It saves them the +trouble." +</p> + +<p> +Garami grinned. "You speak well, comrade. Only +if it were the Allies it might be you who would hang +instead of the <i>bourgeois</i> dogs. There were those fifty +Italian prisoners you said you bayoneted——" +</p> + +<p> +"Stop your mouth," muttered the scarred one. +"You talk too much, you, George Garami. Your +tongue wags freely, friend, and maybe it will lead you +into trouble." +</p> + +<p> +Garami grunted. "What have I to fear, eh! friend +Wenzel? I am a good Communist, me." +</p> + +<p> +"So well you may be; but even good Communists +have talked too much lately. It is said that they gossip +too freely and that the White Knight has long ears." +</p> + +<p> +"The White Knight! What and who may he be, +comrade?" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel turned his hideously scarred face toward the +smaller man. "What, dolt, do you mean to say you +have never heard of the White Knight?" +</p> + +<p> +"Should I question you otherwise?" asked Garami +testily. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel burst into a harsh roar of raucous laughter, +and the unusual sound attracted the attention of others +around him, and they turned his way. Wenzel, observing +this, waved his arms wide, claiming their attention. +</p> + +<p> +"Sisters, comrades," he announced, "my little friend +here has never heard of the White Knight!" +</p> + +<p> +There was no echoing smile of derision from his +listeners; instead Wenzel saw nothing but blank faces. +</p> + +<p> +He raised his eyebrows. "What!" he exclaimed, +"have none of you yet heard of the White Knight?" +</p> + +<p> +Several shook their heads, and a woman called out: +"Tell us, comrade, of him. Does he belong to the +counter-revolution?" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel grinned, and the effect was so repulsive that +the woman shrank back in disgust. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell you! Gladly, comrades. 'Tis not often my +lot to be the town-crier. I feel as important as a local +commissary. +</p> + +<p> +"Know you, then, that this White Knight is a +mysterious being of whom, so far, no one has yet any +knowledge. Maybe he is a man, possibly a woman, or +perhaps a bastard brat sent up from Hell to assist the +Devil's spawn, the <i>bourgeoisie</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"He was first heard of about a month ago, when +the People's Commissary at Balassagyarmat arrested the +outlaw Stephen Arpad. It was known to Bela Kun that +this Stephen Arpad was indulging in treasonable +correspondence with traitors here in Budapest with a view +to establishing a White counter-revolution. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, friends, Bela Kun awaited his time, but at +last this dog Arpad was arrested and thrown into the +Balassagyarmat jail, and there he was kept awaiting the +time when Tibor Szamuelly should arrive to hang him. +</p> + +<p> +"On the night before Szamuelly arrived, what do +you think happened, friends? Arpad escaped." +</p> + +<p> +There was a deep-throated growl from the crowd, +and Wenzel, realizing that he was working them up, +and appreciating the fact that he was at the moment the +centre of interest, became more bombastically theatrical. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, comrades," he continued, his ugly face glowing +malignantly, "Arpad escaped, and there was no one +to offer any explanation. All that was found in his cell +was a small chess-piece, a white knight. +</p> + +<p> +"What did Szamuelly do? Why, he did what all +good Communists should do. He hanged the commissary +as a warning to others not to let good hanging +meat escape in the same way." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel roared with laughter; but there was no +one to join in with him. Steeped in bloody thoughts +and deeds, familiar with ghastly sights, insane with +revolutionary lust as they were, yet Wenzel appalled +them. +</p> + +<p> +At least a head higher than the tallest of his listeners, +he was conspicuous, not only by his height, but likewise +by his face, his head, and his general appearance. +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, his greasy cap, gaudily illuminated +by a brilliant Red cockade, the badge of the Communist +and the proletariat, did not entirely conceal his closely +cropped head of hair, naturally parted on the right-hand +side by a vivid and extraordinarily straight scar—one of +the many which disfigured his strange features. +</p> + +<p> +Six scars there were, including the one described +above. There was one which shaved his left eyebrow, +one which scored his left cheek, one which stretched +from his mouth, pulling it perpetually out of shape +across to the lobe of his right ear, one small one just +above, and finally one across his throat, creating the +ghastly impression that the man had once endeavoured +to commit suicide by inflicting there, with a razor, a +self-made wound. +</p> + +<p> +Two of the scars, though obviously healed up, were +so deeply impressed into the skin that at times they +betrayed traces of the warm blood which flowed +beneath. His emotions aroused, these two wounds flushed +redly, as if on the point of reopening. +</p> + +<p> +The effect of these blemishes was to make the man +so hideously ugly that it was disgusting to cast eyes +upon him. +</p> + +<p> +In himself he was of broad stature, and this, with +his height, made him lumbering and ungainly. His +hands were big and filthy, the nails scratched and +cracked, and worn down to the quick. +</p> + +<p> +His clothes were greasy, frayed at the sleeves and +at the bottom of the trousers. His boots were laced +with string. +</p> + +<p> +Repulsive was the only word to describe him. Of +the ravenous wolves, of the cruel, barbarous vultures, +dragged up by the Revolution from the slums to which +they belonged, this man, Istvan Wenzel, was, in appearance +at least, the most vicious, the most terrifying. +</p> + +<p> +To the student of physiognomy he was a man of +vice, and to his lengthy list of undesirable traits might +be added vanity. Surrounded by a city's scum, only +a little better than himself, he was conscious that he +was, for the moment, the centre of interest, that his +words were creating attention: the fact that his +fellow-Communists drew away at his ghoulish laughter did +not seem to wound his sensibilities, even if he were +possessed of any. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, comrades, he was the first prisoner to escape. +Yet there were others, more of these <i>bourgeois</i>, who +mysteriously vanished just in time to escape the +hangman's rope or our soldiers' bullets. Each time there +was left behind a chess-piece, always the white knight, +and so the man who has been responsible for these +escapes has become known as the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +There was a shout from the rear. "Ay, comrade, +you say nothing but the truth. I have heard of this +pig, the White Knight. It is said that he has sworn to +rescue the Count Kalman Bakocz. Comrade Szamuelly +is to take a hand in the game. This White Knight will +soon be in Red Mourning, eh, friends?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, ay," cried several, amidst a ripple of laughter. +</p> + +<p> +There was a sudden stir, and the people swung +round. At the far end of the square came into view a +group of Red soldiers, laughing and joking. In their +midst three prisoners walked unhappily, doomed to die, +condemned to death by the inhuman Korvin-Klein, the +uneducated, uncouth judge appointed by the Dictator +to try all enemies of the proletariat. +</p> + +<p> +Pushing through the crowd, the soldiers made their +way toward that part of the square above which the +stone lions proudly growled defiance to the world. +Here the three victims were made to stand, calmly +awaiting their fate. +</p> + +<p> +There was silence, a muttered word of command: +the sharp resonant clash of gun-fire echoed across the +square, and three patriots slipped to the ground, killed +by Hungarian bullets that were fired by Hungarian men +at the command of a Hungarian. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had the sound of the discharge died away +when Wenzel laughed loudly and slapped his friend +Garami on the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Three more traitors sent about their business, eh, +comrade!" he cried. +</p> + +<p> +Garami, rubbing his shoulder where Wenzel's hand +had caught him, laughed too. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER II</i> +</h2> + +<p> +It was eleven o'clock in Balassagyarmat, and the +streets were comparatively pitch dark. +</p> + +<p> +The edict of the Dictator had gone forth—no +lights after ten o'clock P.M.—so that even if the gas +and electricity had not failed the result would have +been the same, for were there not detectives, Terror +Boys, and People's Commissaries to see that the word +of the Workers' Council was obeyed? +</p> + +<p> +Under the present <i>régime</i> the houses and effects +of all were the common property of every one else: +books, food, furniture; there was nothing, if the +occasion arose, to which the comrades of the Commune +could not help themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Not many walked the streets. Here and there +drunken Red soldiers staggered back to their billets, +notwithstanding that prohibition was in force. Here +and there a lurking shadow betokened a detective, or +sometimes a daring <i>bourgeois</i> risking his life to visit +friends. +</p> + +<p> +Only People's Commissaries walked about openly, +or members of the local Soviet. +</p> + +<p> +In some houses there was peace; here lived Communists +who ran with the hounds. In some there was +a significant quiet—<i>bourgeois</i> who were still left in +safety, but who might yet run with the hares. +</p> + +<p> +In one home, the residence of Count Kalman +Bakocz, there was only sorrow, a dull, hopeless, +heart-gnawing despair. +</p> + +<p> +A week ago Terror Boys had found their way into +the house and arrested the Count. In vain his wife had +pleaded for her husband's liberty, unsuccessfully had +his daughter Cecile added her pleas. The Red officer +merely flicked his fingers, gave marching orders, and the +Count was torn from the bosom of his family and flung +into jail, only to be transferred the following morning +to Budapest to await the justice of Korvin-Klein. +</p> + +<p> +Later his son, Francis, returned, and only with a +great effort did Cecile and her mother keep him back +from invoking his friends to assist him in what could +only result in a futile attempt at rescue. +</p> + +<p> +For one week the Countess lay prostrate, unable to +eat for the fear which gripped her heart in a vice. Only +the tender solicitude of Cecile and the brave optimism +of Francis kept her alive. +</p> + +<p> +This was the seventh night after Count Bakocz's +arrest, and again no news other than that he was still +alive. The news-bringer thought fit to withhold the +fact that he was nigh on starving. +</p> + +<p> +Despite the commands of the Dictator there was a +tiny particle of candle throwing a flickering light upon +the shrunken, careworn features of Countess Bakocz as +she lay in bed, her daughter sitting on one side, her son +on the other. Heavy curtains protected the windows, +so that not a gleam of light could escape the room, yet +nevertheless each one was quivering with tension which +could not altogether be concealed, and every time footsteps +echoed in the street outside Cecile held her breath +in terror and Francis clenched his fists. +</p> + +<p> +Countess Bakocz weakly turned her head toward her +son. "What news, son, what news to-night?" +</p> + +<p> +Francis shrugged his shoulders slightly, and turned +his eyes away as he felt them filling with tears. "Still +no further news. Father is still—alive." He swallowed +hard. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing else, Francis?" Even despair did not dim +her proud eyes so much that she missed the trembling +of his lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing else." +</p> + +<p> +His mother shook her head. "Poor boy, poor boy. +You cannot lie, Francis." She stretched out her +emaciated hand and placed it tenderly upon his, which +lay idly on the coverlet. "Tell me, son, I can bear it." +</p> + +<p> +Unconsciously Francis turned a questioning gaze +upon Cecile, who nodded slightly. +</p> + +<p> +"They say," he commenced chokingly, "that Father +is—is to be tried on—Mon—Monday." +</p> + +<p> +There was no sound from the Countess, not a movement, +but Francis felt the hand clasping his jump +convulsively, and her lower lip twitched unceasingly. +</p> + +<p> +"Mother dear, Mother darling, do not give up +hope." Cecile leaned forward and kissed her on her +bloodless forehead. "Many things may happen. God +will save him. God will save him." +</p> + +<p> +"God must have many tears to shed on our unhappy +country," she replied softly, and from this Cecile knew +that her mother could not even have it in her heart to +put her trust in Heaven. +</p> + +<p> +Nor could she blame her mother, for she wondered +what evil any of them could have done that they should +be visited with this calamity. For twenty years the +Count and his family had lived in this selfsame house, +leading a God-fearing life. +</p> + +<p> +To the house of his forefathers he had brought his +wife twenty years back, and there his daughter Cecile +had been born a year later, and two years afterward +Francis. +</p> + +<p> +During the War he had fought courageously for his +country. Now, with the War scarcely at an end, he +was seized by his countrymen and thrown into jail. +His crime? Raising his voice on behalf of his unhappy +people, beseeching the peasants to look into their +hearts, where, he said, they would find they wanted +nothing of revolution, wanted only peace to till the +land and rear their children. +</p> + +<p> +There was silence in the room; the candle burned +smaller. When that was gone Cecile had another bit +to put in its place, but after that ... In future they +might not have even the welcoming flame of the candle +to cheer them; nothing but the dismal dark of the +night. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Francis raised his head. He heard the hoot +of an owl. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis Kirchhoff!" he cried, and running lightly +across the room he disappeared downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +Cecile shivered ominously. Kirchhoff brought only +news, and "no news was good news." Was it that +Francis had been misled? Perhaps the trial of her +father had been that morning. A little cry arose to her +throat, and her hand flew up to stop it, but too late. +Her mother had heard; she looked at Cecile with the +expression of a hunted deer. +</p> + +<p> +"He is a long time," she said. Cecile knew her +mother's thoughts had been following the trend of +her own. +</p> + +<p> +Was Francis never coming up again? She wanted to +scream hysterically. Surely he must know that they +would be anxious. The seconds ticked by. Not a +movement from below, not a sound to be heard. +</p> + +<p> +Another moment and Cecile would have called, but +there was a cautious step, and almost as soon as she +recognized the footsteps of Francis she was conscious +that there was some one with him. +</p> + +<p> +Hypnotically she watched the door until it swung +open. So Francis was bringing Kirchhoff up. Why? +Why? She trembled, but the man who entered was not +Kirchhoff, but a stranger. +</p> + +<p> +"Mother dear, do not be excited, but there is news, +wonderful news. This gentleman has come from Buda. +He is Mr Arnold Terhune, of London." +</p> + +<p> +Countess Bakocz flashed a startled glance at her +daughter. An Englishman! A late foe, countryman +of an enemy land with whom peace had not yet been +signed! How could he bring good news? +</p> + +<p> +Cecile did not meet her look, for she was gazing +upon the young man who entered, raptly assimilating +the picture he presented. Her thoughts were that +here was a man connected with good news. If he +bore information which should hearten them all what +matter his nationality? +</p> + +<p> +The Countess inclined her head coldly as the +Englishman bowed. +</p> + +<p> +"You must forgive my intrusion, Countess, but +there is a matter of great importance which I must +discuss with you." +</p> + +<p> +"I am at your service, monsieur." Try as she might +she could not keep the chilling hauteur from her voice. +</p> + +<p> +How different from Cecile, whose eyes were sparkling, +and whose cheeks were flushing! He possessed +a wonderful voice, this Englishman who spoke their +language with scarcely a trace of foreign accent. +</p> + +<p> +Arnold Terhune glanced around him. +</p> + +<p> +"We are alone?" +</p> + +<p> +A tear welled into the eyes of the Countess. +"Absolutely," she replied, and the tinge of bitterness +and hopelessness in her voice betrayed its story of +tragedy, its tale of faithless servants, of forbidden +friends. +</p> + +<p> +The Englishman inclined his head. "Then I may +speak, for it is of vital importance that what I have to +say goes no further. Countess, I bear a message to you +from one who is known as the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +"The White Knight!" The exclamation was from +Cecile. With those three words banished hope returned +in full force. The White Knight! If the rumour of +this mysterious person had not yet reached the +proletariat, the same could not be said of the persecuted +<i>bourgeoisie</i> and the hunted aristocracy. Like the spread +of a forest fire, the name of the White Knight had passed +from mouth to mouth with inconceivable rapidity. +</p> + +<p> +Stories of his wonderful rescues had penetrated into +every house and home which sheltered one of the hated +<i>bourgeoisie</i>, his saga was told in whispers and in snatches. +To the gentle families of the forgotten people his name +was a glimpse of blue breaking in between the heavy +thunderclouds of revolution, a veritable star of hope, +shining undimmed through an overpowering blackness. +</p> + +<p> +Countess Bakocz raised herself slightly on her +elbows, and the blood flowed into her face. "The +White Knight!" she whispered. "God be praised! +Then he knows of my husband's plight?" +</p> + +<p> +"Too well, Countess. Moreover, he plans to rescue +him—has sworn to do so." +</p> + +<p> +"Sworn to rescue him!" The Countess faintly +repeated the words, unable to credit the fact. Then +joyfully she spoke again. "Cecile, Francis, listen! +The White Knight is to return your father to us. +Oh, children, children, tell me I am not dreaming! +Make me believe what I hear is true!" +</p> + +<p> +Cecile's lips trembled suspiciously as she flung her +arms around the invalid. "Oh, Mother darling, of +course it is true!" Across her mother's shoulder her +glance met that of Arnold Terhune. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes held hers, clearly and firmly. In that brief +second there was a change in both of them, though +neither was conscious of the fact. They only felt an +inexplicable stirring somewhere deep down within them. +</p> + +<p> +Arnold Terhune, though dressed in the dirty shapeless +clothes of the Hungarian labourer, with a three or +four days' growth of hair upon his chin, and a very +close-cropped head, could not entirely conceal the lithe, +athletic grace with which he carried himself, any more +than his unshaven chin hid its firm strength. +</p> + +<p> +Dressed more suitably, he would have been the +personification of virile English manhood. He was +inclined to be tall, just under six feet, yet his hands and +feet were unusually small. His broad shoulders hinted +at robust health and physical strength; his slimmer +waist at a healthy life and arduous exercise. +</p> + +<p> +Well might he have appealed to Cecile, who, herself, +was remarkably beautiful, and of a dusky, gipsy +type. Her dark, rippling hair admirably set off her +almost black eyes and pure olive complexion, while her +tiny lips curved seductively into a Cupid's bow. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps her only fault was a strained, pinched look, +the result of four years' privation, so soon succeeded +by the worse rigours of the revolution, and subsequent +Commune. +</p> + +<p> +Countess Bakocz turned eagerly to her visitor. +"Tell us, monsieur, of this rescue. When and how? +Oh, how I long to clasp my husband in my arms again! +God be pleased to grant the White Knight success, +monsieur. You will tell us his plans?" +</p> + +<p> +Terhune smiled, then slowly shook his head. "The +White Knight alone knows his plans, Countess. He +alone plots his <i>coups</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"But you, monsieur, you know this White Knight?" +</p> + +<p> +Terhune's face broke into a smile again, but this time +there was something of hero-worship, of reverence, +in it. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Countess, he is my friend, and leader." +</p> + +<p> +"Your leader? You work for the White Knight?" Cecile +it was who put the question, and she clasped her +hands together in her eager excitement. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, m'selle. I am his lieutenant. I do what I +can; it is so little. I wish I could do more, much more, +for it makes my heart bleed to see the Hungary I have +always loved plunged into the present chaos." +</p> + +<p> +"You love Hungary, monsieur, yet you are an +Englishman, an enemy!" There was a gentle reproof +in her tones as the Countess spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"We are not our masters in war-time, Countess. I +fought for my country, not for myself." +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive me, monsieur." The Countess was contrite. +"I should not have said that, but I must plead +my awful worry in excuse. I was surprised. To fight +against us—and now——!" +</p> + +<p> +"We are already forgetting. Deep in our hearts +we English feel for your nation. We feel you have +been the cat's-paw of German diplomacy. Now that +humanity is being outraged by bestial tyranny, we wish +only to aid and assist. Were circumstances different +England might do more, but her people do not know +of your plight, have no idea even of the revolution here. +Russia, yes, but Hungary ... Our papers are full +of peace and future prosperity." +</p> + +<p> +"The White Knight, is he English too?" +</p> + +<p> +Terhune nodded. "Yes, Countess, he is, but I beg +you not to question me with regard to him. It is his +wish, his policy too, that he remain merely a name, a +myth. His mystery is his second lieutenant." +</p> + +<p> +The Countess buried her face in her hands and +quietly sobbed, while Terhune shuffled his feet +uncomfortably, wondering what he had said to have this +effect. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she looked up and smiled faintly. "Forgive +a woman's tears, monsieur, but it grieves me that +our unhappy country must look to enemies for succour +against our own people." +</p> + +<p> +"Not entirely, Countess, for there are those in +Vienna and in Budapest who seek to form a +counter-revolution, a White Army instead of a red. I may not +mention names, but——" His eloquent gesture was +expressive, and the three Hungarians who listened to +him felt a glow of warmth stealing through their bodies. +</p> + +<p> +"But now, Countess, for the reason of my visit here. +There is information I require, knowledge I must +acquire. Listen...." +</p> + +<p> +It was half an hour later when Terhune slipped +away, leaving behind three people who in less than an +hour had been pulled from the depths of misery into +the heights of hope and confidence. While the Countess +dreamed of the future, of the time when she should +see her husband again, Francis pictured the adventure +and the thrill of the rescue, and wished he could help. +Cecile was quiet and thoughtful. Too full for words +at the thought of having her father with her once +again, she could not, nevertheless, banish the constantly +recurring picture of Arnold Terhune, standing in the +light of the flickering candle, his glance meeting hers +across her mother's shoulder. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER III</i> +</h2> + +<p> +Consternation reigned at the meeting +of the Workers' Council. Bela Kun had been +sorting out his papers preparatory to suggesting +fresh edicts for the suppression of the <i>bourgeoisie</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"Comrades," he had begun, when suddenly his +eyes caught sight of a paper on his table, on which his +startled eyes read his own name, in handwriting which +he did not recognize, signed by the name "White +Knight." +</p> + +<p> +Stopping short in his speech, he picked it up and +hastily read its message: +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +To BELA KUN, +</p> + +<p> +Do not hope to execute the Count Bakocz. I have +sworn to rescue him, and I never fail. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +THE WHITE KNIGHT +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Bela Kun swore. "Listen, comrades," and he read +the brief note out to the members of the Council. +</p> + +<p> +"My God! how did you get that?" shouted +Szamuelly. +</p> + +<p> +Bela Kun shook his head. "I don't know. It wasn't +with my papers when I left home." He looked round +with suspicion. +</p> + +<p> +"What does it mean?" asked one. +</p> + +<p> +Bela Kun sneered. "What does it mean? It means +that this White Knight is going to try to rescue Count +Bakocz." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what does he want to warn you for?" +</p> + +<p> +"I know why," interrupted Szamuelly. "Because +this man, this <i>bourgeois</i>, having been successful once or +twice in his ventures, now imagines he is omnipotent." +</p> + +<p> +"Has he always been successful?" This from a +man who sat farther away, a small unpleasant-looking +member, Garami, who had just recently heard of the +White Knight from Wenzel. +</p> + +<p> +Bela Kun hesitated. "Well—er—he has certainly +been fortunate up to the moment." +</p> + +<p> +"I see," said Garami. "And may I ask you, comrade, +by what means the dog has done this?" +</p> + +<p> +"In many ways, Comrade Garami. From reports +I have had he is as strong as an ape, as cunning as +a monkey, as elusive as a cricket. He has money, +for in one case he bribed the jailer with more than I +have heard of for a long time. Did he not?" Bela Kun +turned to Szamuelly. +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly laughed unpleasantly. "Yes, comrade. I +found the jailer with the money in his pocket. I hung +the man, and appropriated the crowns." +</p> + +<p> +"As strong as an ape, I believe you said. Why do +you say this?" Again Garami put a question. +</p> + +<p> +Bela Kun frowned. "You are in a questioning +mood to-day, Garami." +</p> + +<p> +"For a reason, comrade, which you will learn if you +will answer my question first." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, if you must know, the reason we, Szamuelly +and me, believe that this traitor is strong is because he +once overcame two of our brave troops, put in charge +of a prisoner, by cracking their heads together." +</p> + +<p> +Garami grinned unpleasantly. "Supposing I can +put you in touch with a good comrade who isn't afraid +of this <i>bourgeois</i>, this White Knight, as he calls himself. +Would he be of use to you, comrade?" +</p> + +<p> +Bela Kun thought for a moment. "Would he act +as jailer to Count Bakocz, think you?" +</p> + +<p> +Garami laughed. "He would act as jailer to the +Devil himself if it so be there was good money to be +earned." +</p> + +<p> +"Who is this man?" +</p> + +<p> +"Istvan Wenzel." +</p> + +<p> +"Istvan Wenzel!" repeated another member. "Ay, +comrade, I know Istvan Wenzel. A good man, him. +As strong as an ox and as ugly as sin. His face would +be enough to frighten this White Knight away, if it is +the man of whom I am thinking." +</p> + +<p> +"You are thinking of the right man," Garami +agreed. "Wenzel can pick up a man in each hand." +</p> + +<p> +"Can you get in touch with him, Garami?" asked +the Dictator. +</p> + +<p> +"He lives but three flats below me." +</p> + +<p> +"It is good. Bring him to me to-morrow. If he is +all your praises sing him to be, he ought well to be a +match for this dog who writes me these notes." +</p> + +<p> +The next morning Wenzel accompanied Garami to +Bela Kun. +</p> + +<p> +The streets were full of cars in which sat members +of the Workers' Council, Administrators of the Country, +or even People's Commissaries. They, who preached +Socialism, Communism, and Proletarianism, lived in +ease and comfort, surrounded with goods, food, and +furniture filched from the <i>bourgeoisie</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the people starved, and rode in tramcars +of which the glass was broken or missing. If they were +ignorant, uncouth, and wore the Red cockade, they +might be granted a food ticket and be allowed to pay +high prices for the privilege of eating to live. +</p> + +<p> +If they were intellectual, if they lived and worked +by the fruit of their brains, if they were decent-living, +moral, and religious, they were <i>bourgeoisie</i> and could +starve. There were no food tickets for such as they. +</p> + +<p> +So, though the city was gay with the red bunting +which hung from every roof and every window, +stretched from house to house, and with the music +played by gipsy bands, beneath it all the people, the real +Hungarian people, like the proud Magyar aristocracy, +wept, and the tears were of blood. +</p> + +<p> +Such thoughts as these did not worry the boisterous +Wenzel or the sly Garami, as they strode along the +streets. +</p> + +<p> +"It's good to be alive this morning, with the sun +shining, and the town all gay with flags and colour; +what say you, Garami?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am with you, comrade." +</p> + +<p> +"What puzzles me is why the counter-revolution +worry their heads about changing it all. Here we are, +governed by ourselves, can help ourselves to everything +we want. What more does anybody want? That's +what I say. What more can one want? Give me a +bellyful, and money in my pockets, and a woman now +and again, and you can keep the rest. That's what I +say. Keep the rest." +</p> + +<p> +"Ho, ho!" chortled Garami. "You say that, you, +Wenzel? Who took the best bed from the house at +the corner of the Andrassy Ut? Who brought away +the chairs and the sofa and the table from the home of +Pazmany, the Professor? Who drinks his fill of wine, +and forces his way into the theatre? That's what you +say?" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel spat, as a passing automobile whizzed past. +"Bah! You talk like a babbling brook. Come, the +mention of wine and food makes me feel empty. +Comrade Bela Kun must make haste. I must eat." +</p> + +<p> +In due course they were shown in to Bela Kun, who +eyed the big Wenzel up and down, and then smiled +cunningly. +</p> + +<p> +"You know why I wished to see you?" he questioned. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, comrade. It's some one you want to guard +the Count Bakocz from being rescued." He stretched +out his long arms and opened wide his huge hand, then +slowly clenched his fingers together, and grinned evilly. +"just let me get any of these <i>bourgeois</i> between my two +hands and I'll wring their necks. Curse them!" +</p> + +<p> +"Then you will take the job on?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes—at a price, comrade." +</p> + +<p> +"You needn't worry about money, Wenzel. The +Government pay well those who are faithful to it." He +leaned forward and his eyes narrowed. "Only +see you do not fail, my friend, for otherwise you will +find your own neck in a noose." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel burst into a bellow of raucous laughter. "I +shall not fail. Don't you worry, comrade. This White +Knight has bitten off more than he can chew. I'm the +man you want. That's what I say. It's me you want." +</p> + +<p> +"So be it." Bela Kun waved them away. "Don't +forget, Comrade Wenzel, don't let him escape. You +will hang heavier than the Count Bakocz!" +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Sunday! The day before the trial of Count Kalman +Bakocz for treason. Trial! It was mockery to call the +proceedings which occurred by this name. +</p> + +<p> +Counter-revolutionaries, enemies of the proletariat; +all such who were caught were imprisoned, and in +due course, usually within twenty-four hours, brought +before Korvin-Klein. Trial—judgment should be the +word! There was no opportunity for defence, no +witnesses brought forward for the defendant. Only +prosecution and execution. +</p> + +<p> +In the prisons of Hungary were <i>bourgeois</i> hostages, +held by the Communists against the possibility of +hostile demonstrations from the people who groaned +beneath the heel of the Soviet. Cast into prison, herded, +many of them together, into small filthy cells, they +barely subsisted. +</p> + +<p> +Womenfolk were allowed to bring them what food +they could obtain. Baskets, bags, packages of food +were handed in at the prison gates by weeping women, +for husbands, brothers, and sons. +</p> + +<p> +The Red guards received the parcels and, when the +women had gone, ate the food themselves and drank +the wine. Occasionally, nay, more often than not, these +hostages, these prisoners, died. That night there would +be a stealthy procession to the waterside, and presently +the waters of the Danube would part with a splash, and +the body of the prisoner would float down, to disappear +for evermore. +</p> + +<p> +Food would still arrive, relations never hearing the +tragedy of their loved ones, and the jeering Reds would +gobble it up. What stories the grim walls of the +Budapest prisons could tell of the Revolution of 1919, +what tales of death and torture! +</p> + +<p> +Count Bakocz was granted a cell to himself. The +remorseless Soviet had determined he should die, and +there was to be no mistake. So he was taken away from +fellow-prisoners and thrown into solitary confinement, +to see only the faces of his two jailers, one during the +day, and one during the night. +</p> + +<p> +Always the ghastly, repulsive features of Wenzel +haunted him, asleep and awake. At times he could not +sleep. Wenzel was for ever peeping through the grill, +and every time the Communist gave his guttural laugh, +and greeted him with rude, boisterous remarks. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, my friend, still alive I see. Ho, ho! Too +bad. Fancy, you have not been hanged or shot yet! +Too bad. I must see what I can do for you. +</p> + +<p> +"Wouldn't you like to escape, my little chicken? +That wouldn't do at all, for little Wenzel would hang +in your place." Then he would spit through the grill. +"Pah! The more you <i>bourgeois</i> hang the better pleased +shall I be, that's what I say." +</p> + +<p> +Three days, or rather three nights, Wenzel had +guarded his prisoner, and still no attempt had been +made to rescue the Count. Only Wenzel laughed; +the Workers' Council was becoming nervous, for +regularly each morning Bela Kun received a message +from the White Knight. +</p> + +<p> +Whence came the slips of paper he knew not, and +once it was not a message, but a tiny white piece of +carved wood—a white knight. Another time there +were two knights, the white one untouched, but the +red carved in two. +</p> + +<p> +This, with the knowledge that his Government was +merely resting on the brink of a volcano, gave Bela +Kun no rest. On all sides the country was likely to be +attacked, by Rumanians, by Czecho-Slovakians, and by +Serbs. +</p> + +<p> +His life became harassed, and he in his turn +tightened the thumb-screws on the unfortunate +<i>bourgeoisie</i>. New laws were made each day and flashed to +every part of the country, there to be put into force +by the local People's Commissaries and the local +councils. +</p> + +<p> +"More than two people never to meet together in +the street." This, amazing as it may seem, was actually +put into force, and innocent citizens were unable to +stop and chat to friends for fear of counter-revolution, +of plot, and counter-plot. Only Red soldiers could jest +together, or those who wore the Red emblem, or those +who met in Parliament Square to witness the execution +of enemies of the proletariat. +</p> + +<p> +When Wenzel went on duty Garami was there to +meet him. +</p> + +<p> +"Ho, Wenzel!" he said, "to-night's the last opportunity +to rescue Count Bakocz. You must keep your +eye open—that is, if this <i>bourgeois</i> really intends to +attempt a rescue." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel struck his chest. "Why worry, you? Do +you believe that I shall let pass anyone? Bah! This is +the last night our friend inside will ever live to see. I +must see him fall to-morrow. Ha! Old skin and bones +won't dent the ground overmuch, comrade. That's what +I say." +</p> + +<p> +Garami looked pleased. "Ay, comrade, it was a +good thing I did for every one, was it not, to have you +put as jailer here. You will not forget, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel grinned. "I shall not forget, friend. One +tenth of what I make goes to you for the recommendation. +Easy money, comrade. And what if I am offered +a bribe?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hush!" Garami looked round, startled, and reaching +up he placed his hand over the other man's mouth. +"Canst not keep a still tongue, chatterer?" He lowered +his voice. "A tenth to me, Wenzel, a tenth to me." +</p> + +<p> +"Ho! Ho! Ho!" Wenzel opened his huge throat +and roared with laughter. "And will you share a tenth +of the rope, Jew? Give me less money and less rope, +that's what I say. Less money. My neck needs no +gentle bandage, thank you, comrade." +</p> + +<p> +Garami shrugged his shoulders. "I meant nothing," +he muttered between his teeth. "Well, good night, +Wenzel. There are soldiers within call, good Red +comrades, who will not hesitate to run a <i>bourgeois</i> +through with bayonets. If there is anything wrong, +shout." +</p> + +<p> +"Yah! Anything wrong! What can be wrong? +If anyone comes I will spit on them and they will run. +Good night, comrade. Let no uneasy dreams disturb +you. To-morrow Count Bakocz will—die." His eyes +flashed joyfully, as if he were already watching the +life blood draining away from the victim's body, and +his gloating expression caused Garami to hurry the +quicker away. +</p> + +<p> +Ample preparations had been made to guard the +prison well. Posted in different parts of the building +were groups of Red soldiers. No one could enter +without the knowledge of the guards, and even if +intruders were successful in this there was still the +huge Wenzel to overcome. +</p> + +<p> +Garami breathed a little easier as he left the prison. +He had been responsible for the appointment of +Wenzel, and if anything should go wrong he was not +too sure of his comrades' affability, that he would not +hang side by side with his <i>protégé</i>. +</p> + +<p> +That, therefore, was the position at ten o'clock on +Sunday night, the night before the prisoner was to be +tried, which was, of course, synonymous with death. +If the White Knight failed the Count would die. +</p> + +<p> +The hours wore on. The soldiers sang and ate, +drank and joked, and Wenzel sat on his chair, outside +the Count's cell, singing too, his huge voice echoing +through the dim corridors so that prisoners in distant +cells could not sleep. +</p> + +<p> +At intervals he would open the grill to shout insults +at the hapless prisoner, picturing the death that would +overtake him in the morning, by all of which the Count +remained unmoved. +</p> + +<p> +He knew, just as every one else knew, that on the +morrow he would die, and so he gave his last thoughts +to the family left behind at Balassagyarmat. If a tear +rolled down his cheek it was not because he was afraid +of death. His poor Elizabeth, his poor Cecile! Only +the seventeen-year-old Francis to guard and protect +them, and such friends as could creep to them unseen. +</p> + +<p> +What of his family at Balassagyarmat? Since the +night Arnold Terhune had brought the news of the +White Knight's oath they had heard nothing. When +Sunday night arrived they did not attempt sleep. +Cecile and Francis joined their mother, and in the +darkness they held hands and comforted one another +through the lonely hours. +</p> + +<p> +With anxious hearts, with fear that the White +Knight would fail counter-balancing their hope that +he would succeed, could they, by some miracle, have +seen the prison then, at two o'clock in the morning, +they might have flinched with horror, for still nothing +had happened. +</p> + +<p> +The guards still talked and sang, Wenzel still sat +on his stool. The only movement was that of a Red +soldier who staggered about with bottles of wine, +liberally dosing the guards with liquor. +</p> + +<p> +From somewhere or other he produced yet more +bottles. "Come along, comrades, some more," he +cried, and the guards grinned and held out their mugs. +</p> + +<p> +The soldier served them all. "Let us—let—let us +drink a toast," he called out, "l-let us drink to the +Revolution." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, ay," answered the men, and they drank deeply. +</p> + +<p> +"Must take some to the others," muttered the +proposer, and he staggered away. +</p> + +<p> +The noisy rowdyism gradually died away as the +potent wine took effect. The drink must have been +stronger than usual, for the Reds found their heads +nodding—nodding.... Ten minutes later every man +was sound asleep, and when the soldier returned who +had, in his generosity, visited the other guards all +through the prison, and served out drink to toast the +Revolution, he chuckled, and straightened up. +</p> + +<p> +"Drunken swine," he muttered. It was Arnold Terhune. +</p> + +<p> +The first part of his task completed, there was now +the hardest part to perform. +</p> + +<p> +With noiseless steps he traversed the corridors going +in the direction of Count Bakocz's cell. At the actual +corridor he came to a halt and listened. Round the +corner he could hear the heavy breathing of Wenzel, +who now seemed quieter. +</p> + +<p> +With scarcely a movement Terhune leaned forward +till he could see what was happening, and his heart +leaped with joy as he noticed that Wenzel, though +seated with his back to the cell, was just slightly turned +away from him. +</p> + +<p> +If he could but creep along without being seen or +heard he hoped to succeed in getting near enough +to use a chloroform pad which he had ready. He +determined to try. +</p> + +<p> +Squeezing his back against the wall, and moving with +the utmost caution, he turned the corner. If Wenzel +should glance only just slightly round now, he would +be seen. Breathing a prayer that Wenzel would not +move he advanced slowly forward. +</p> + +<p> +Four feet, three feet, two feet. Another few paces +and he could jump and catch the unconscious Wenzel +unprepared, but at that moment Wenzel turned. +</p> + +<p> +For a second or two Terhune seemed paralysed with +astonishment, until Wenzel gave a roar, and would +have jumped for him, but the Englishman was +infinitesimally quicker, and even as Wenzel commenced to +move he had quickly advanced the extra pace and with +a dull thud brought a revolver butt down upon Wenzel's +defenceless head, and the jailer collapsed with a groan. +</p> + +<p> +Terhune worked with nightmare haste. From his +pocket he produced a key, a duplicate of the original, +and before Count Bakocz was even aware of what was +happening, had opened the cell-door and was pulling +the bewildered aristocrat away. +</p> + +<p> +Terhune had not bargained on Wenzel's strength. +No sooner had the echoing footsteps of the two men +faded away in the distance than Wenzel raised his +ponderous frame from the floor and stumblingly +commenced the pursuit, blood pouring down his face and +blinding his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever drug it was with which Terhune had +doctored the guards' wine, it could not have been a +very powerful one, for even as the two men rushed +past several of the guards sat up, rubbing their eyes +in bewilderment, and by the time Wenzel was on the +scene they were all sitting up from the positions into +which they had fallen. +</p> + +<p> +The sight of Wenzel, his face and clothes covered +in blood, rushing into their midst, was their first +intimation that anything was wrong. +</p> + +<p> +"Dogs! Beasts!" furiously shouted Wenzel. "The +prisoner has escaped!" +</p> + +<p> +There was a dramatic silence while the stupefied +guards gazed at one another, and observing this, +Wenzel gabbled with rage. "Fools, dolts, idiots! follow +them! follow me!" and rushing past them, kicking +them as he went, he led the pursuit, and the guards, +realizing at last what had happened, rushed pell-mell +after him. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel was outside, staring up and down the street. +</p> + +<p> +"Which way?" the guards cried, but Wenzel shook +his head helplessly. +</p> + +<p> +Some distance away two shadows darted across the +dark street, but one of the guards saw. "That way, +look!" he called; and the guards set off in a ragged +group, Wenzel leading them. +</p> + +<p> +Here and there against an occasional light they +saw twin shadows fleeing from them, one stumbling and +falling, the other pulling. +</p> + +<p> +Gradually Wenzel and the guards caught up. +Another moment and the two who were pursued would +have been caught, but seeing this, they parted company, +one to fall helplessly to the ground, where he +lay without moving, and the other to speed still quicker +away, till he was lost from sight. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel struck a match. The fallen one, his face +smothered in the mud of the road, was the Count. +</p> + +<p> +"Ho, ho, comrades!" hoarsely cried out Wenzel in +triumph, "back to the jail with him. Get up!" he +ordered, and kicked the man at his feet, but the Count +did not move. "Fainted. Pah! the chicken. Come, +friends, carry him back. I hope they will lash him for +this." +</p> + +<p> +The guards dragged the helpless man along the +streets, till inside the prison they let him fall, and +there he lay, cold and stiff. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Wenzel gave a cry, and with his already +filthy handkerchief wiped away the mud from the +face of the prisoner, and having done so gazed with +stupefaction at what he saw. +</p> + +<p> +It was not Count Bakocz who lay there, but a two +or three days' old corpse of another man, dressed in +the Count's clothes. +</p> + +<p> +The White Knight had won again. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER IV</i> +</h2> + +<p> +Because of the rigid censorship not one of +the Budapest newspapers hinted at the escape +of Count Bakocz; yet the news was passed on +from mouth to mouth, was repeated and commented +upon, until it finally percolated into the uttermost +environs of the city. Disclaimed by the risen scum, +in their requisitioned mansions, acclaimed in the +sanctuaries of the refugees; by the first it was +furtively believed but outwardly denied, and by +the second inwardly discredited but optimistically +confirmed. +</p> + +<p> +At the Supreme Soviet Council, in permanent session +at the Hapsburg Palace, questions and answers were +flung to and fro across the table. Comrade blamed +comrade, and easily aroused suspicions disfigured the +already brutal faces. +</p> + +<p> +Their prey, like a plucked goose, hot and sizzling +from the spit, had been snatched from their watering +mouths, and the anger of the rulers of the nation was +unbounded. Their pride was insulted, their prestige +threatened. +</p> + +<p> +They turned their knit and scowling brows toward +Szamuelly, who smiled banefully. +</p> + +<p> +"Peace, comrades! What matters the loss of one +chicken from such a well-filled run? Who misses a +single grain of wheat from a bushel?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ho," said Pogany, "but do hens only inhabit the +roost? There are also cocks which crow." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and from one grain of wheat may spring +many other grains, remember, Comrade Szamuelly," +cried another. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite so, quite so, friends. I agree with you, +and that is why I say—give me my way. Three days' +loot and pillage and I swear there would be no cocks +left to crow. Death to the <i>bourgeoisie</i>! Hang the +magnates! Let them join the traitor Tisza. What +say you, comrades?" +</p> + +<p> +From several directions came affirmative cries. +"Well said, Szamuelly! three days' sack." "Well +said! 'Tis what I say too." +</p> + +<p> +Pleased with the reception of his words Szamuelly +continued, his voice rising higher as the prospect of the +sanguinary feast for which he had long been working +seemed appreciably nearer. +</p> + +<p> +"Remember, friends, the world looks upon us as +disciples of Russia to-day, to-morrow we may be leading +other countries along the road to freedom. A glorious +millennium is before us, yet there is still work to be +done and done well. We have enemies working against +us. Any moment may see a counter-revolution +commencing. We must strike now, kill these pestilent +rebels, and plant fear into the hearts of the waverers. +As, in the past, we have been ruled by the whip, so +now must we govern with a rod of iron. Kill, kill! +Let the red blood spurting from the corpses of the +<i>bourgeoisie</i> carry its own message." He laughed. +"There will be many who will be pleased to join +our ranks afterwards." +</p> + +<p> +He sat down, the big hall resounding with feverish +applause, and only the chosen of Lenin, Bela Kun, +President of the Council, remained silent. His hate +for his superiors, his lust for power, were not one +whit less than that of his bloodthirsty lieutenant, yet +he feared to say the word which would permit the +execution of a measure which might prove to be the +blackest blot in the history of Hungary. +</p> + +<p> +What streak of caution, what strange emotion +restrained him, none can say. Perhaps he feared ghosts +of the past, perhaps shadows of the Hapsburgs, +aghast at the sacrilege of this invasion of their sacred +domain, strung together his lips with spiritual threads. +Whatever it may have been bleeding Budapest was +spared; the ravenous wolves contented themselves with +spasmodic raids and petty pilfery. +</p> + +<p> +"Not yet, Comrade Szamuelly. The time is not yet. +You must wait. Perhaps one day in the future——" +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly laughed scornfully. "Wait! Have we +not waited all our lives for the emancipation of the +workmen? Have we not planned and plotted to gather +the reins of government into our own hands, to rid the +country of the accursed gentry, the proud aristocracy? +Are we all afraid?" He spread his arms dramatically. +</p> + +<p> +From one came a growl. It was the sullen Pogany, +the Minister for War. "Hold hard, Szamuelly! be +careful whom you accuse of cowardice. Yet I agree +with Bela Kun. 'Tis better to wait. We must be +recognized as a government by the Entente that the world +may know Communism is come to stay. Besides, it is +possible that we may go too far——" +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly jumped up from his chair with a gesture +of disgust. "Bah! A paltry excuse! It is not going +far enough which we should fear. We must crush the +dogs under our heels, grind them into the dust, till +their backbones are broken and their brains jellied. +It is a dead man who does not strike one in the +back." +</p> + +<p> +It was Kunfi, the ex-journalist, who next interrupted. +"Very good, Szamuelly, but in the meantime—what +of the White Knight? Can you crush his bones so that +he rescues no more of the <i>bourgeoisie</i>? Can you hang +him in Parliament Square?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a brief silence, and Szamuelly became, +once again, the centre of interest. +</p> + +<p> +"If the rope does not break, comrades," he boasted. +</p> + +<p> +Bela Kun smiled softly. "Not so quickly, friend +Szamuelly. I have now sent for one Wenzel who +claimed to be a better man than the White Knight, and +yet—I am afraid Comrade Wenzel must hang. At any +moment now he may arrive, and you shall hear, before +he dies, how he fared." +</p> + +<p> +"In the meantime——?" +</p> + +<p> +"We will discuss affairs of State. For instance, I am +informed by Comrade Agoston that there are treasures +still untouched in the Castle Gisella. We ought to teach +its occupants the meaning of the word Communism. +What say you, friends?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, ay." The confirmation was unanimous. +</p> + +<p> +Before anyone could speak again there was an +interruption. The doors of the council chamber swung +open and an officer of the Red Army entered. +</p> + +<p> +"Well!" Annoyed by the intrusion, Bela Kun +turned to the man, who stood there, unshaven, dirty, +and utterly disreputable. Once he had been a refractory +private; but on the strength of a long record of +disciplinary breaches and subsequent punishment he was +considered worthy of a better rank in the proletarian +army. +</p> + +<p> +"Comrade Wenzel has disappeared." +</p> + +<p> +Kunfi laughed gutturally. "He took your threat to +heart, comrade." +</p> + +<p> +Bela Kun ignored his fellow-councillor and frowned +at the officer. +</p> + +<p> +"Friend, I gave you orders to arrest Comrade +Wenzel. How mean you he has disappeared?" +</p> + +<p> +The other shrugged his shoulders. "Merely that +when I arrived Comrade Wenzel was not there. Neither +had he been at his room for several days. One cannot +arrest an absent man." He laughed slightly, as if +memory of the past tickled his sense of humour. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you search his room?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and found——" +</p> + +<p> +"What?" Impatiently Bela Kim leaned forward. +</p> + +<p> +The soldier stretched out his right hand, which was +clenched. Slowly he opened his fingers, exposing on +his palm something which made the Communist sit +upright with a slight start. That at which he looked +was a white knight. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +The Great Hungarian Plain, awe-inspiring in its +rugged splendour, rises here and there to rocky peaks +and granite eminences, upon many of which stately +castles and impregnable fortresses proudly rear their +turrets, for the Great Plain has been, for past centuries, +the Armageddon of Europe. Here the fierce Magyars +have stemmed the invasion of the Turkish hordes, have +battled and died for the Cross. Here, too, at different +times have the Roman Empire, Byzantium, Friuli, and +Saxony all paid tribute to the unconquerable fighters of +Hungary. +</p> + +<p> +Now once again, not yet recovered from the ravages +of the Great War, it was to be the scene of a tussle, +perhaps not so bloody in its action, yet none the less +significant in its outcome. As Hungary, in the past, +had withstood the onslaught of the fanatics of the +Crescent, saved Europe from Mahomet, now in 1919 +it was to fight for Europe once again, for here, on the +Plain, the encroaching Bolsheviks were encountering +the indomitable peasants, the tillers of the soil, the +defenders of the country. +</p> + +<p> +The battle was not of swords, of guns, or of cannon, +but of insidious propaganda undermining common +sense, of bombastic promises, impossible innovations, +promiscuous hangings, against all of which only +tradition and unswerving loyalty to the Fatherland +made stand. +</p> + +<p> +The saga of the Great Plain is unsung, the epic of +its peasantry unwritten, but the time will come when +the world will awaken to its obligations, and in all +gratitude repay the debt it owes in story, song, and +history. As yet, however, stunned by the years of +travail, bewildered by defeat, hypnotized by the +imported emissaries of Lenin and Trotsky, the peasants +listened to the rantings of the Communists, and slowly +absorbed their teachings. Twenty-five acres of land +free for each man—the prospect was enticing—to those +who had worked the day long for the big magnates, +the autocratic landowners of Hungary, as had their +fathers, even their grandfathers, before them. They +listened, and in the end their brows frowned, their +faces creased into ugly lines, and they looked toward +the castles and the fortresses and growled.... +</p> + +<p> +The Gisella Castle stood alone in its grandeur, the +nearest town three miles away. Built many hundred +years ago, its solid sides seemed untouched by the +passage of time. If the outer walls were green with +moss they were nevertheless as formidable and +unapproachable as ever, prepared to yield only to modern +high-powered explosives. +</p> + +<p> +Here lived Imre Kiss and his daughter Elizabeth, +all unconscious that away in Budapest Bela Kun and +Company had cast envious eyes upon its splendours; +and so, on a sparkling spring morning, when all nature +seemed to sing with joy, they peacefully broke the fast. +</p> + +<p> +Even Imre, conquering his fading sight only with +the aid of <i>pince-nez</i>, could not fail to notice an air of +elation in Elizabeth's manner as she joyfully partook +of her meal. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, daughter, what witchery are you up to this +morning? It is a long time since I have seen you so +happy." +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth glanced at him lovingly and smiled. +"Father dear, you have not forgotten?" +</p> + +<p> +"Forgotten!" The old man wrinkled his forehead +and peered at her with a puzzled expression upon his +face. "Have I forgotten something? Does Francis, +your cousin, visit us this day?" +</p> + +<p> +She laughed crooningly, so that its music rippled and +echoed round the panelled hall. "Father dear, it is the +fifteenth to-day. Does that date mean nothing to you?" +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her, dismayed. "Bless my heart, child, +it is your birthday! Dear, dear! Then to-day you are +twenty-three years of age—and—and—" across the +table his glance rested steadily upon her, longer than +it had done for many years, "—why, dearest child, +you are more beautiful than ever." +</p> + +<p> +He gazed entranced upon the picture she presented. +Through the leaded windows the sun was throwing a +golden gleam, in the path of which she sat, so that she +was bathed in its brilliancy. +</p> + +<p> +"My child—twenty-three to-day." Murmuringly +the words escaped; they were but thoughts which +passed through his mind. "Just twenty years +ago—she—died, and now—yet did she die? Is not my +daughter Elizabeth she, the other Elizabeth? Are not +those big, dark eyes, so full of pride and sympathy too, +her eyes? It was when I first looked into them that +I worshipped her. It is her chin you lift so proudly, +dear; there is no doubt that you are born and bred a +Magyar. You love Hungary too, don't you, daughter?" +</p> + +<p> +At the mention of the word Elizabeth's face changed +yet again, just as her expressions had altered following +the trend of his reverie. From joy and happiness to +naïve pleasure at his praise, then sadness, and a vague, +indefinable longing. Then once more her features +mirrored her thoughts. Pride of birth, of race, of +country! Imre needed no affirmation to his question. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head from side to side. "But now, +your birthday has arrived and I have no present for +you. Tut, tut! My memory is becoming execrable. +Perhaps it is my work—I devote too much time to it." +</p> + +<p> +He looked away, out of the window, dreaming of +his lifelong work, his chosen task. Once he had been +a soldier, but that was many years ago. He married +late, and when his beloved wife died he became a +scholar. He dipped and delved into the past, until +slowly there was born within him a passion to write of +the lives of the kings of Hungary. So he began when +Elizabeth was but a child of ten. +</p> + +<p> +Soon now, perhaps in two or three years, he would +write "Finis," but at times he feared, frightened that +the Reaper would forestall him in his cherished +ambition. +</p> + +<p> +Of late the apprehension had become deeper; it +seemed to him that there were moments when his +heart fluttered strangely, and so he flung himself into +his work, studying from morning till night. Thus he +had forgotten an important anniversary, and he chided +himself. +</p> + +<p> +He need not have done so. Elizabeth understood +and sympathized. She left her chair and knelt by his +side, laying her head on his knees. +</p> + +<p> +"Father darling, you must not say that. Your work +means as much to me. I long for the time when your +name will ring throughout Hungary, echo from town +to town, and later trumpet to the world the glories of +our saintly kings, and all they have done for mighty +Europe." +</p> + +<p> +Bending forward so that his thick, snow-white locks +swept over his forehead, he placed his lips upon the +masses of her black hair, after which he ran his fingers +through its tresses, lovingly caressing the silky texture, +admiring the healthy sheen. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well, child, let us hope that the time will +come very soon. But now, what news to-day from +Budapest? How proceeds the Peace Conference in +Paris? Assuredly the Entente will be merciful to +broken Hungary. England and America will not +forget us." +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth frowned. "Again there are no papers, +Father. I do not understand their absence and I am +nervous." +</p> + +<p> +"Nervous! God bless my soul! What nonsense +are you talking? Why should you be nervous?" +</p> + +<p> +She sighed. "I do not know. It may be merely +a vague impression, yet since King Charles was +dethroned——" +</p> + +<p> +"Tut, tut, child! Do you not believe that it was +diplomacy on the part of Count Michael Karolyi? The +Government is in his hands. He is inclined to the Left. +His Radical tendencies, we admit, are pronounced, but +he could not stab his friends in the back. He is one +of our class, one of our own people. Is not his wife the +daughter of our greatest statesman? Fear not, child; +rest your faith on Count Karolyi." +</p> + +<p> +For his sake she smiled suddenly and gaily jumped +to her feet. Yet the worry was not altogether driven +from Elizabeth's mind by her father's optimism. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, Father, to work." +</p> + +<p> +"To work! Ah!" Imre's lined face softly wreathed +into smiles, and his eyes brightened. Once more he +would pick up his beloved pen, to write in words of +gold of past glories, all unaware of the ghastly present. +</p> + +<p> +Carefully, with the aid of a stick which now never +left his side, he rose to his feet, and made his way to +the window. Throwing it open he gazed at the glorious +vista before him, breathing in the pure air of the +Great Plain. +</p> + +<p> +"What a morning! Come, child, stand by me +and tell me what you see. Does the town still stand +enshrouded by the filthy smoke of industrialism?" +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth did not reply, and Imre became conscious +that her grip upon his arm was tightening. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter, Elizabeth?" he asked, surprised. +</p> + +<p> +"Father, there is a man riding towards us as if he +were pursued by a demon." +</p> + +<p> +"Pshaw! Do not all our horsemen ride thus? +Perhaps he brings us the newspapers." +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth endeavoured to believe in this supposition, +but receptive to occult influence, a heritage of gipsy +blood, she had a premonition that the rapidly approaching +rider bore news of ill-omen, and her heart beat +quicker with anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +At last, after an apparently interminable period, he +reached the massive iron gates of the castle, and a +moment later the clang of a deep-toned bell resounded +throughout the purlieus of the walls. +</p> + +<p> +A brief interval, hurrying footsteps, and then +Peczkai, from the village, was shown in. +</p> + +<p> +His face was covered with sweat and streaked with +dirt, his clothes were white with dust. Gasping for +breath he turned to the old man. +</p> + +<p> +"Excellency!" He could say no more, and Imre +motioned him to be quiet. His hoarse breathing +became easier. +</p> + +<p> +"Excellency, the Communists are on their way +here!" +</p> + +<p> +"Communists!" Imre gazed at the peasant in +bewilderment. "What mean you? I do not understand." +</p> + +<p> +"The Communists, Excellency, are coming here, by +order of the Soviet." +</p> + +<p> +"Soviet!" The old man choked and a hastily +aroused temper began to display itself. Seeing him +thus Elizabeth spoke to the man. +</p> + +<p> +"You must tell us more, Peczkai. What you have +said to us is a mystery. We have had no news for some +time now, our newspapers have not arrived." +</p> + +<p> +"God help you, then, when you hear the news. The +Karolyi Government has resigned, and the country has +been taken over by a group of Jews who call themselves +the Dictatorship of the Proletariat. Hungary is +Bolshevik, Red. The <i>bourgeoisie</i> and the aristocracy are +fleeing for their lives. Everything is nationalized, the +property of the country, and anyone may take what +they please. It is bloody revolution, Excellency!" +</p> + +<p> +They looked at the man incredulously, hesitating to +believe a word he said. Yet Elizabeth was the first to +realize the truth. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Mother in Heaven!" she whispered to herself, +yet the sound pierced the stillness of the room with a +sharp echo. +</p> + +<p> +Imre, after a moment's hesitation, remained +unmoved. "Impossible!" he announced, and his eyes +flashed. "Hungary turned Bolshevik! Impossible!" Proudly +he lifted his head and met the peasant's steady +gaze. +</p> + +<p> +Peczkai groaned. "Excellency, I could not believe +until I saw, with my own eyes. Red guards are everywhere, +pillaging and looting in the name of the Soviet. +Rumours have reached us from Budapest of death, of +mysterious disappearances. Our late Prime Minister +and many others have been thrown into prison. +Excellency, you must believe! The Communists are on the +way here now! Any moment they may arrive. You +must flee; it will be better so." +</p> + +<p> +Hesitation to believe battled with a hopeless +recognition of the truth in Imre's heart. He did not +move or speak; just stood still while the blood receded +from his face and his eyes became shadowed with an +overwhelming horror. +</p> + +<p> +While he wrote of Hungary's greatness, this, this +unspeakable sacrilege was taking place. Hungary Red! +The country of St Stephen, the birthplace of a long +list of valiant warriors—Bolshevik! +</p> + +<p> +"A chair, Elizabeth," he gasped weakly as, unable +to bear the sudden weight of sorrow, he felt his knees +tottering. Quicker than Elizabeth Peczkai was beside +him, holding the older man up in his strong arms. +</p> + +<p> +"Excellency, a short rest only. Then you must go. +See, I will take you, guide you to a safe place." +</p> + +<p> +"Go! Go!" Slowly the bowed shoulders straightened, +the head lifted, and Peczkai saw Imre's eyes +blazing with a kindled fire. "Go! Never! Who are +these Communists that I should leave my home, the +home of my father, and his father before him? Who +are these dogs that I should forsake my castle? Never! +Let them come. I will horsewhip them. Not yet is my +arm too weak to defend myself and my daughter. Go +you, Peczkai, and dare these Bolsheviks to come near." +</p> + +<p> +Despairingly the peasant glanced at Elizabeth, but +vainly. As she stood there she smiled slightly, haughtily, +disdainfully. The spirit of the fighting Magyars +revealed itself in her womanly grace; daughter of a +generation of warriors, she feared neither friend nor +foe. Once again Peczkai groaned. +</p> + +<p> +"Excellency..." He spread out an arm appealingly. +</p> + +<p> +Imre smiled softly. "God bless you, Peczkai." There +was much in his voice which even the uncultured +peasant recognized—gratitude, tenderness, scorn, but +above all, inflexible decision. +</p> + +<p> +Peczkai, with a bowed head, helped Imre to a chair, +and left the room. Bowed, for in the corner of each eye +trickled a tear. When the awakening came... He +felt an infinite pity for them. +</p> + +<p> +It was soon to come. Even as Elizabeth went to the +window to watch the return of Peczkai to the village +she saw in the distance the approaching Communists. +Her lips curled scornfully. There were many of them, +perhaps two dozen, or three—as they came nearer she +realized that even this estimate was too low. +</p> + +<p> +"They come, Father." +</p> + +<p> +She looked round. He sat as if he had not heard. +</p> + +<p> +So she waited at the windows, and the Communists +came nearer till she was able to see their faces, and for +the first time feared. Most of them were villagers, led +by a sprinkling of strangers, but the vanguard was +packed with cruel faces and criminal countenances. +Even many of these men she knew, recognized them +as incorrigibles, vagabonds, ne'er-do-wells, every one +of them an <i>habitué</i> of prison. +</p> + +<p> +Where were the police that these convicts were let +loose? She experienced a thrill of horror: there, side +by side with the misdemeanants, walked the renegade +police, no longer spick-and-span in their uniforms, but +dirty and dissolute, wearing conspicuously their ensign +of shame, the Red cockade. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Mother in Heaven!" she breathed. +</p> + +<p> +The awakening at last! "Father, the gates! we must +close them! Then we can defy them, snap our fingers +at them." +</p> + +<p> +Before he had time to reply she hurried from the +room and called the servants as she ran. +</p> + +<p> +In the courtyard Joseph and Eugene the coachmen +were watching the Communists, whispering to each +other in an undertone. Then Elizabeth was before +them. +</p> + +<p> +"Joseph, Eugene, the Bolsheviks are coming to +occupy the castle. Shut to the gates." +</p> + +<p> +Neither man moved, just glanced uneasily at one +another. +</p> + +<p> +"Eugene, do you hear?" The other servants were +joining them, all but the women. +</p> + +<p> +The man looked up and scowled. "Yes, mistress, +I hear," but he made no attempt to move. Fear tugged +at Elizabeth's heart, but the servants did not suspect it, +as before her burning looks their own gaze gave way +and fell. +</p> + +<p> +"Then obey. Shut to the gates and keep that rabble +at a distance." +</p> + +<p> +From the back a voice shouted: "Hold hard, mistress! +Don't you call our friends names." Elizabeth +endeavoured to locate the voice, but the man had hidden +himself behind another servant. +</p> + +<p> +"Friends!" Her voice rang with contempt. "Do +you call those men your friends? Do you, Eugene, +and you, George, or you, Bela?" +</p> + +<p> +Only Eugene had the pluck to answer. "I choose +my own friends, mistress. Times are different now. +We are all alike, you and me and Joseph." He +laughed coarsely. "You are not our mistress now. +You and me are comrades. This castle belongs to the +country, and me and Joseph and all of us are going to +share it." +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth did not waste time in words. She stepped +forward and flung her hand across his face, and the force +of it first whitened the skin then left a livid weal. +</p> + +<p> +There was a deadly silence. One or two of the more +timid servants shrank back, still amenable to authority, +but Eugene the coachman, his face diffused with evil, +stepped forward. "You——" He raised his arm, but +Joseph caught hold of it. +</p> + +<p> +"Wait, Eugene, wait for the others. In a few +minutes our pretty mistress will soon realize who +governs the country now. Comrade Grocz knows how +to deal with the <i>bourgeoisie</i>. Besides..." he whispered +in the other's ear, and afterward they both grinned +evilly. +</p> + +<p> +For Elizabeth the end of the world might have come. +The servants to revolt, the men who had been in their +employ for years, whom she could have sworn would +be faithful to death! She looked at the gates. Too late +now to close them, for the villagers were on the threshold. +She felt a sob rising in her throat at the treachery +of the men, but repressed it, and running to the gates +stood in the entrance, her arms spread. +</p> + +<p> +Obedient to impulses not yet entirely driven from +them the villagers stopped. Only the Communists +from Budapest had the courage to advance, and headed +by Comrade Grocz they moved forward till they stood +in front of her. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, my pretty miss, what do you want?" Grocz +laughed and spat on the ground. +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth looked at him, a fierce anger blazing from +her eyes. "Dog!" she cried. "Get back to your +kennel." +</p> + +<p> +Some one laughed, otherwise the silence was intense. +Elizabeth appreciated the moment, took advantage of +it. Coolly ignoring the strangers, she spoke to the +villagers, among whom she had been brought up since +childhood, and her young voice clearly rang through +the air, reaching every man in the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +"Men, what do you want? Why come you here +to-day? Are you to be turned into a crowd of +barbarians at the command of a handful of Jews from +Budapest? Are you so forgetful of your own independence +that you must blindly follow on the heels of a few +mischief-makers who seek only their own advancement? +Have you forgotten the four long years of war? +Did you sacrifice yourselves for this?" +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps her words might have had effect, but +unconsciously she touched upon the wrong topic. +</p> + +<p> +"Bah! Who started the War, who plunged us +peasants into the hell of battle? You magnates, you +landowners and blood-suckers. You, who fatten on +the work we do for you at starvation pay; you, all +of you, started the War to grind us down more than +ever!" +</p> + +<p> +The words were greeted by a chorus of affirmative +growls. The tide had turned and none knew it better +than Comrade Grocz. +</p> + +<p> +"Out of the way! We cannot stand arguing here +all day long. Three cheers for the Dictatorship of the +Proletariat! Long live Bela Kun! Come along, +comrades, worthy Bela Kun has given us Castle Gisella. +Shall we let a little chit of a girl stand in our way?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a restless movement. "No, no, move on!" +</p> + +<p> +Out of the corner of her eyes Elizabeth saw Imre +approaching, and it seemed to her that he leaned more +heavily than usual upon his supporting stick. At all +costs she felt she must keep the mob away. +</p> + +<p> +"Back, back!" She faced them desperately, and her +dauntless bearing impressed the villagers, so that once +again they stopped. It did more: wavering servants, +already ashamed of their deviation from loyalty, lined +up behind her, heedless of Eugene's cajoleries and +threats. +</p> + +<p> +Unseen, unnoticed, Lenin's shadow fell across the +<i>tableau</i>; the ghastly influence of Bela Kun, the example +of Tibor Szamuelly, reached even here. Sneering +slightly, an ex-policeman, now a Red guard, sighted his +rifle and pulled the trigger. +</p> + +<p> +The shot went wide, but only just, so that its flight +whistled past Elizabeth's ear. The blood drained from +her face, but she did not move, and at this first sign +of open hostility her courage deepened. Nor was it +without effect on the invaders. Like a bone thrown +into the midst of a pack of starving wolves the shot +released a flood of pent-up passion. Gone in a moment +were memories of the past; tradition, gratitude, and +common sense, all were forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +Jostling, pushing, and shouting out insulting epithets, +the mob advanced, led by Comrade Grocz. Some +one, she never knew whom, caught her roughly by the +shoulders, and she was flung aside like a sack of coal, +her dress tearing down to the waist and revealing her +underclothing. Even then she might have stood up +to them, but a pair of arms weakly encircled her and +held her back. +</p> + +<p> +"My daughter, my child! Elizabeth, you are not +hurt? The beasts, the cowards! Would that I were +twenty, even ten years younger and I would flog them +out of the castle on their knees. May I be cursed that +my limbs fail me, may I——" +</p> + +<p> +She put her lingers to his lips, and mutely they stood +still, helplessly watching the Communists brush past, and +the castle which had withstood Mongols, Frenchmen, +Germans, Turks, and Austrians fall to the disciples +of Karl Marx and Lenin. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +An hour later they ventured in again. In the meantime +they had hidden in an outhouse, where one of the +female servants found them. To Elizabeth she brought +another dress, though, when she looked, Elizabeth did +not recognize it. +</p> + +<p> +"This is one of your own?" she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, mistress." +</p> + +<p> +"But why did you not bring me one of mine?" +</p> + +<p> +Looking everywhere but at her mistress the maid +stammered an answer: "I—I was afraid of the—the +men, mistress." +</p> + +<p> +Decently dressed again Elizabeth decided that her +father and she ought to return to the castle, and +leaving the shelter of the outhouse they crossed the +courtyard. No one was to be seen. +</p> + +<p> +They entered, only to stop, aghast. No wonder the +maid had not looked Elizabeth in the eye. On every +hand were damage and destruction, from every corner +ascended a stench of vile, unwashed humanity. The +Communists were everywhere, lounging about, smoking +Imre's cigars and cigarettes, spitting on the floor, +exchanging obscene jokes. +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth closed her eyes to shut out the ghastly +scene, and Imre sobbed aloud. His grand old castle, +full of heirlooms, priceless antiques, and less valuable +pieces of furniture which had become dear to the heart +from long familiarity, ruined and desecrated by the +filthy hands of the vandals! +</p> + +<p> +Mechanically they moved on. Everywhere it was +the same. Destruction abounded. Tiny <i>objets d'art</i> +thrown into the grate, exquisite tapestry pulled off the +walls to clean the boots of the proletariat. +</p> + +<p> +In due course Comrade Grocz saw them. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, comrade! hullo, sister!" He greeted them +familiarly. "Jolly little place you have had here in the +past. So nice in fact that it is a pity you have not had +an opportunity of sharing it before. By order of the +Dictatorship of the Proletariat your jewellery is +confiscated, together with all other objects of value. Your +castle will be shared by good Communists. I have +allotted you two rooms to yourselves, out of my +generosity. The rest will be common rooms. Pass on, +comrades; remember the Dictatorship of the Proletariat +has come to stay." He moved, laughing harshly. +</p> + +<p> +Dismayed, bewildered, Elizabeth and her father +falteringly stumbled along the passage. Communists +passed, bearing in their arms bundles of clothes, pieces +of furniture, cushions, pillows, but not one appeared to +notice them. Were they not all equal now? +</p> + +<p> +At last they found their rooms, traced them in that +they were unoccupied, and that on the floor were tossed +their clothes, a paltry few, transferred from their proper +wardrobes by order of Comrade Grocz. Just two rooms; +a bedroom each to the father and daughter who, but a +few hours ago, had owned the whole castle. +</p> + +<p> +"I—I will go in—for a rest." Keeping his face +sedulously hidden from his daughter, Imre mumbled +the words beneath his breath and tottered into his new +bedroom. She followed and caught hold of his arm in +support, but he waved her away. "Go, my child—I +want—want to be alone." There was a break in his +voice, and hearing it Elizabeth choked, conscious that +there was a suspicious lump in her own throat. +</p> + +<p> +Imre sank into a chair, his head bowed. Elizabeth +tiptoed from the room and quietly shut the door. +</p> + +<p> +Not far away was a bathroom. She would have +washed, but she found the bolt wrenched off. Under +the Bolshevik <i>régime</i> there was to be no privacy. It +was part of their policy, a Communistic theory, that +the sexes be thrown promiscuously together. Even +modesty was to be State-owned. +</p> + +<p> +Hardly conscious of her actions she returned to her +room. It seemed hot, stuffy, and smelly from contact +with the Communists. She crossed to the window and +flung it open, breathing in the spring air with deep +gasps. That at least was pure, perhaps the only pure +thing left in unhappy Hungary. +</p> + +<p> +Somehow it surprised Elizabeth that Nature still +smiled. It did not seem possible for anyone or +anything to smile now. Yet it was so. The gentle breeze +whispered its lullaby, the sun shone gaily, and the +fleecy clouds, leisurely wafting along, served to +emphasize the sparkling sapphire hue of the sky. +</p> + +<p> +Below her, a sheer drop of fifty feet, the broad +Danube flowed, undisturbed in its course by human +outrage. Elizabeth was fascinated by its tranquillity, +its absolute disinterestedness. It did not dash more +fiercely against its rock-bound walls, nor sing its song +the louder. What meant war or revolution, massacre +or murder to it? Inexorably its waters flowed onward, +unheeding mankind's plight. Cruel Nature, heartless +Danube! +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Imre, in the next room, suffered. +Though of late years he had remained away from the +wide world, given up the last years of his life to scholarly +pursuits, there had been a time when he was young, +when he had sipped of its pleasures, tasted lightly of its +vices. As then he had known the world, and mankind +in particular, so now he trembled for his daughter. +</p> + +<p> +What would happen when the wine cellar was +opened, when the mellow Tokay stirred up the passions +of the men? God! he dared not think. Yet he knew +he must think, and plan escape for Elizabeth. What +were his castle, his lands, his money, compared to her? +</p> + +<p> +He must be polite to the Communists; escape +would be easier if they did not suspect him. He must +think—carefully. He gazed around, and the scene—the +clothes on the floor, the missing ornaments, the +disturbed bed—angered him, and he felt his temper +bubbling over, blinding his clarity of vision. +</p> + +<p> +There was only one place to which he could go—his +beloved study. So he made his way there, keeping +guard on himself, and ignoring the jeering Communists. +Once there he knew its atmosphere would assist him to +think more coherently, to plan a way to get the better +of the scum. +</p> + +<p> +The study door was closed and no one about. With +a quick movement, which twisted his lips with pain, +he entered, and shut the door behind him, breathing +with relief. +</p> + +<p> +So the <i>tableau</i> was set, Imre Kiss by the door, leaning +on his stick, and Comrade Grocz by a massive desk, +a bundle of manuscript in one hand, a lighted match +in the other. +</p> + +<p> +And Imre—for the moment he did not fully comprehend +the significance of what he saw. His brain +was blank, chilled by the disappointment at finding +even here the sacrilegious presence of Communists. +</p> + +<p> +Then the devouring flame of realization fired his +blood. His papers, his sacred manuscripts, the work +of years about to be destroyed! Another few seconds +and the match would have been applied. There was +no fear within him at that moment, only a consuming +rage, a murderous hate, and a flaming, unquenchable +spirit which oiled his limbs, swept aside for the moment +the ravages of time. With a bellow of rage he raised +aloft his heavy walking-stick, and, rushing forward, +crashed it down upon the skull of the Communist. +</p> + +<p> +Without a sound Comrade Grocz dropped to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +By the time he came round again the papers were +hidden where no Communist's hands would ever find +them, but the black soul of Grocz shrieked for revenge. +</p> + +<p> +It was nothing to him that, the precious manuscripts +saved, gentle-hearted Imre was bathing the +Communist's head. He only saw the man who had stunned +him. He rose quickly to his feet, leaving Imre on his +knees. Now was his chance. He swung his foot forward. +His heavy-soled boot crashed into the old man's +face, and Imre, racked with pain, gently slid backward +to the floor with a groan. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER V</i> +</h2> + +<p> +Budapest, and Comrade Grocz pleading to +Bela Kun for satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +Bela Kun was sympathetic. "Of course, comrade. +An insult to you is an insult to the Soviet. Go +back to Castle Gisella and hang the old man. Do +just as you like, but do not let him escape." His eyes +flashed. "Remember, Grocz, I shall hold you +responsible. The <i>bourgeoisie</i> must be exterminated." +</p> + +<p> +Grocz smiled savagely. "Thank you, comrade. Do +not fear. I know of a very good method of hanging. +It does it gradually. But, comrade, there is another +matter. There is a daughter." +</p> + +<p> +"Ha! A daughter. Is she young?" +</p> + +<p> +"Deliciously so." +</p> + +<p> +"And pretty?" +</p> + +<p> +"None more so." +</p> + +<p> +Bela Kun grinned all over his misshapen face. +"Comrade Grocz, if I were you——" +</p> + +<p> +Grocz nodded his head. "And afterwards?" +</p> + +<p> +Bela Kun frowned. "Let her join her pig of a +father in Hell." +</p> + +<p> +Grocz was confident. "Leave that to me, comrade." +</p> + +<p> +The train back was not due to leave for another hour, +so Grocz sat at the station buffet, surrounded by friends, +whiling away the time. It was good that his old chum +Brody came along. There was a tale to tell, so he told +it, and in its recital it lost nothing of the drama. As +the cluster around him grew larger so his voice boomed +louder. It was pleasing to be thus a centre of interest. +</p> + +<p> +All the same he kept his eye on the clock. There +was work to be done. He wanted to see the old man +at the end of a rope, his legs kicking—better still there +was Elizabeth.... +</p> + +<p> +At last the train puffed out, crowded to double its +capacity, as were all trains in those days, but Grocz +saw to it that he had plenty of room. There was one +window seat occupied by an old woman. He thrust +her out of it, and then took her place, stretching his +long legs across to the opposite side. Having settled +himself comfortably he pulled from his pocket a large +cigar which had once belonged to Imre Kiss, and read +<i>The People's Voice</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Little did he know that in the same train travelled +Nemesis, that among the group of Reds to whom he +had boasted of what was to happen later that night +were Arnold Terhune and his mysterious leader, the +White Knight. +</p> + +<p> +They did not speak to one another, the two Englishmen; +each had thoughts of his own. But then it was +not safe to talk of anything but trivialities: for instance, +the man in the opposite corner, with his hawk nose, +his cunning eyes, and close-cropped head might have +been a detective. +</p> + +<p> +Dressed in the filthiest of rags, gathered from a +garbage heap, wearing the inevitable Red cockade, behaving +like a bully and a brute, Terhune was not conspicuous +in any respect; but the same could not be said of the +White Knight. Towering above many of the tallest +men, Geoffrey Templeton, alias Istvan Wenzel, could +not disguise his height, his rugged strength, nor even +his hideous ugliness, from which even the bestial Reds +glanced away in disgust. +</p> + +<p> +With his livid wounds Wenzel was a veritable ogre, +an inhuman monstrosity, terrifying in appearance. +There were times when Terhune turned away his own +eyes, retching at the sight of his leader. +</p> + +<p> +The train rumbled on through the environs of the +city until it reached the country, and Terhune, comparing +its impressive simplicity with its tillers and its +reapers who composed the occupants of the carriage, +could not arrive at any reconciliation of the situation. +Crowded slum-dwellers, living in filth and grime, +rubbing shoulders with the rich, imbibing the seeds +of dissatisfaction, he could well understand rising in +revolution; but where there was beauty and natural +art, fresh air and immense open spaces—there, he +felt, the spread of revolution could only be a disease, +a fostered and malignant growth. +</p> + +<p> +From reason for the creation of internal strife, +Arnold's thoughts passed on to its victims. As always, +his memory reverted to the night when he had first +seen Cecile, sitting in the flickering candlelight by her +mother's bedside. He realized that he wanted to see +her again and again after that. Perhaps, one day, +when the Bolshevik Government was overturned, when +the country was released from the grip of the octopus—but +that time could only be in the distant future. He +sighed, and, out of the corner of his eye, glanced at the +White Knight. +</p> + +<p> +As usual, Wenzel's face was set in hard lines, his +eyes staring ahead, unblinkingly emotionless. Of what +was he thinking? And Arnold, aware of the tragedy +in the life of Geoffrey Templeton, could well guess. +</p> + +<p> +The train steamed into a local station and the +carriage cleared, so that only Arnold and Wenzel were +left, even the cunning-eyed man taking his departure. +Arnold, somewhat suspicious of him, watched his +back disappearing into the exit of the station, and +presently noticed him walking along an adjacent street. +He breathed a sigh of relief, glad to know that to all +intents and purposes he had been mistaken in his +assumption of the character of the man. +</p> + +<p> +After a wearisome wait the train continued its +journey, and looking toward the east Arnold saw that +the sky was beginning to deepen into a sombre grey. +Farther along the train some one was playing the +<i>Internationale</i> on a violin, and the strains echoed along +the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel did not move, but continued to sit mutely +awaiting the journey's end, passively oblivious of +anything other than what was passing through his mind. +Arnold chafed at the silence, for now that, to a certain +extent, the necessity for caution was past, his leader's +attitude was uncanny. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, old man, we are nearly there." +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" Not a muscle of his face moved. Arnold +moved across the carriage so that he sat opposite, +hoping that he might read the expression of Wenzel's +eyes, but he was disappointed. Nothing was to be +glimpsed but an impenetrable blank, an expressionless +stare. +</p> + +<p> +Arnold wanted to talk. "You have made your +plans?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel nodded. "As far as possible." +</p> + +<p> +"And those?" +</p> + +<p> +"We will follow Grocz at a distance. Soon after he +has entered the castle we will arrive with a message +from Bela Kun, probably something to do with the +hanging of this old man. Once inside our wits must +do the rest." +</p> + +<p> +There was a silence, broken eventually by Arnold. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, why did you not warn me it was you who +were the guard that night when we rescued the Count +Bakocz? When I felt my pistol butt sink into your +flesh I could have gasped with horror. God! It must +have hurt you." +</p> + +<p> +"Not as much as it did you. You scarcely bruised +the skin." +</p> + +<p> +"Even so, was there anyone else near by, save the +Count, that we had to act so realistically?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"Then—why?" he asked desperately. +</p> + +<p> +"Two men only have seen the White Knight, +Arnold. You are one, Apor is the other. My very +plans centre on the secrecy which surrounds me. I +fear even the gratitude of those I rescue. I trust no +one—but you." +</p> + +<p> +"And I—I am a poor help to you, Geoffrey. Yours +is the brain, I am but the muscle. Still, I am more +than satisfied. All my life I shall thank God that I +came across you that—that day. If I never prove of +further use to the world I shall rest satisfied that I +have, even in such a small way, helped to alleviate the +lot of an unhappy nation, to counteract the ghastly +ravages of the handful of murderers who govern the +country. +</p> + +<p> +"When we were at school together, you and I, +Geoffrey, when we used to outvie one another to see +who could be the most daring, I am sure neither of us +ever dreamed that ten years later we should be here, +in Hungary, doing what we are. You were always the +leader, though, even in those days. I could never equal +you, for strength, for daring—for anything." +</p> + +<p> +"Yet, Arnold, if I was the leader, I had more than +an able lieutenant, even as I have to-day. Schooldays! +They were long ago! They were happy days, those. +I have changed. You haven't, Arnold. You are older, +a trifle more solemn, but you have still that rugged, +unbendable spirit of loyalty. The Spanish Inquisition +would not have persuaded you to betray a friend, +Arnold." +</p> + +<p> +Arnold flushed. He was not used to praise of this +kind from his leader, and, embarrassed, he changed the +subject. +</p> + +<p> +"Once inside the castle, Geoffrey—are you not afraid +of being trapped?" +</p> + +<p> +"Trapped!" Scornfully Wenzel derided the +suggestion. "Am I so brainless that I cannot hope to +blind the eyes of the unintelligent spawn? Are my +arms too weak to throttle a few of the accursed swine? +No, Arnold, I have no fear on that score." +</p> + +<p> +"What of a rifle bullet? Neither brains nor brawn, +Geoffrey, can successfully withstand the flight of a +cartridge." +</p> + +<p> +For the first time that day Wenzel smiled. "Then +shall I be glad, Arnold. Don't you realize that death is +all I seek? What is life to me now? Hell! Hell, from +morning till night. My thoughts torture me when +I—I think of—Zita, poor little Zita dying from the +shock of seeing her father bayoneted to death by—by +the muckrake of the earth, the spewed-out refuse of the +lowest type of humanity. God! All I wish is to kill, +kill; murder the brutes as they murdered Zita." +</p> + +<p> +So redly did his scars throb with the intensity of his +passion that it seemed to Arnold they might burst with +the pressure. Wenzel may have guessed his thoughts, +for he laughed harshly, hideously. +</p> + +<p> +"God was still not satisfied with all He had done +to me. No, there was more to come, Arnold, more to +come. First He took away my Zita, killed my heart, +chilled my soul, and then, when I wanted to die that I +might join her, when I murdered six bloody Bolsheviks +and gave myself up that I might perish by their bullets, +what queer prank did He play then? +</p> + +<p> +"Let me be put up against the wall, let the Communists +fire, let every bullet strike me here and +here—here—here—so that I fell, and was left for dead, and +yet—what then? Let me live, live that I might gaze +in the mirror at myself and hate my own face as I hate +the Bolsheviks, detest myself as I would the Devil. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think I am blind that I cannot see the +hellish scars which score my face and head from +side to side? God! I wish I couldn't. It hurts so, +it hurts so." +</p> + +<p> +No longer were his eyes expressionless. Once Arnold +had looked into the eyes of a dog, his body flattened +beneath the tyres of a motor-car, and what he saw then +remained with him as a memory for years. Once again +he saw the pictured story of unbearable pain, and this +time it was in Geoffrey's eyes. +</p> + +<p> +If his body were on earth, his soul was in the deepest +depths of Hell. If he lived it was only to look for +death, the death which was preferable to life. +</p> + +<p> +The train rumbled on, and Comrade Grocz +impatiently waited for the journey to finish. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +By the time Grocz reached the castle it was practically +pitch dark. Eugene, the ex-coachman, met him +at the gate. +</p> + +<p> +"Back again, comrade?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, back again, my friend, with good news." +</p> + +<p> +Eugene grunted. "He is to die?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, my friend, at the end of a rope, over the +battlements. Then when it is all over we will cut the +rope and he will fall 'plop' into the Danube. What +more could you want?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing more. Your scheme is excellent, yet I +would give you advice, comrade." He paused. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, say on," urged Grocz impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +"Firstly I would, were I you, dispatch the old man +to-night." +</p> + +<p> +Grocz grinned in the darkness. "Worry not, +comrade. I have already decided to do that—and other +things. Only why do you say this?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because I have heard rumours. There are certain +pig-headed villagers who regard our friend as they +would a god. There are hints of a rescue." +</p> + +<p> +"What!" Grocz's face blackened. "Who would +dare to dispute the judgment of the Dictatorship of the +Proletariat? Show me them, give me their names, and +I warrant good Comrade Tibor Szamuelly will soon +persuade them to change their minds." +</p> + +<p> +"Quietly, comrade, quietly! I know no names. +I have merely overheard a conversation, and I +say—to-night shut fast the gates, post sentries, and give +orders that no one may pass in, not even Bela Kun +himself." +</p> + +<p> +Grocz thought for a moment or two, and then +smacked his knee. "Good advice, my friend! We will +see that this is done." +</p> + +<p> +Inside the castle he rapidly issued orders and the +gates rolled to; then Red guards, with loaded rifles, +and a bottle of wine by their side, were set to keep +watch. +</p> + +<p> +Having done this Grocz made his way into the depths +of the castle. Here were cells, built by Hungary's +defenders, for Hungary's foes. Here in one of them +lay a Hungarian defender, placed there by a Hungarian +foe. +</p> + +<p> +To Imre Kiss came Grocz, gloatingly. "Well, old +man, you can say your prayers. At midnight sharp, +to-night, you die." +</p> + +<p> +"And my daughter?" Imre's voice quavered. All +day long, since he had been dragged from above and +thrown inside, he had neither heard nor seen Elizabeth, +and, sick with anxiety, he had lain on a rough, mouldy +heap of straw, hour after hour, praying to his Creator +for his daughter's safety, no thought of self, of his own +fate, content to die if his daughter be saved, unharmed. +In the light of the lantern Imre saw the Communist +nod his head. "Don't you worry! She is quite all +right." +</p> + +<p> +"You—you are not going to kill her? For God's +sake let her remain safe and sound! Kill me, but leave +her." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you worry, we will do that all right," replied +Grocz brutally. +</p> + +<p> +"You swear you will look after her?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I will look after her." +</p> + +<p> +"God bless you," Imre murmured. Then as he left +the cell Grocz laughed slightly. Once again Imre saw +his face clearly betrayed in the light, and at that moment +realized the fate in store for Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +The horror was too much for his heart. With a tiny +sigh he slipped back, unconscious, to the straw-strewn +floor. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Elizabeth knew naught of what had +happened to her father. So far as she was aware, the +only occurrence was that some time after she shut herself +in her room the key clicked in its socket. When she +tried the door it was locked. From this she assumed that +her father had been treated in a like manner. +</p> + +<p> +At midday one of her own servants, with downcast +eyes, brought her up a simple meal, set out upon a tray, +and putting it down upon a small table quickly made +her exit without a word. +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon dragged on interminably till it merged +into the evening. Once again a meal was brought to +her. This time she questioned the maid. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you not speak to me, Lenke?" +</p> + +<p> +The woman glanced fearfully at her. "Mistress, I +have been forbidden to speak to you or to answer any +questions." +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth gazed with scorn at the trembling servant. +"Are you afraid of the—the—animals?" +</p> + +<p> +Lenke whimpered slightly. "Mistress, they—they +threaten to—to kill me unless I obey their commands." +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth laughed. "And you believe they would +dare to do so?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mistress, they would dare. They—they are +beasts!" Her voice sank to a whisper. "Mistress, +I heard a cry just before noon like a man who—who +had been mortally injured. The voice was like that of +Ernest, the butler. Mistress, mistress—" Lenke fell on +her knees, and catching hold of Elizabeth's dress buried +her face in its folds, and sobbed—"Ernest—has—disappeared. +In his room were only—bloodstains." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Lenke!" Elizabeth whispered to herself, and +her face went suddenly white. It did not seem possible; +Ernest to disappear so! She tried to convince herself +that the maid was lying, but if Elizabeth needed any +confirmation of the truth it was in Lenke's attitude. +</p> + +<p> +If that had happened, without any knowledge of it +having reached her until now, what other awful deeds +might already have taken place? Her father... +</p> + +<p> +Frantically she bent down and clutched Lenke by the +shoulders till the servant moaned with pain. +"Lenke—Lenke—my father—your master, is he safe?" +</p> + +<p> +Lenke gazed with horror at her mistress, then she +broke free from Elizabeth's grasp, ran across the room +to the door, and disappeared outside. The key turned. +Elizabeth was once again alone. +</p> + +<p> +The terror depicted in the maid's face—her significant +dismay at the question—her orders to answer +no questions—seized with consternation Elizabeth sank +into a chair as she felt her limbs trembling. +</p> + +<p> +Question after question raced through her mind, +queries which could not be answered. As though an +icy blast were blowing through her room she shivered +with a cold fear. The unconquerable spirit which did +not wilt beneath the horror of the day was stricken +down at the thought of her father. Where was he now, +what had happened to him? Feverishly she crossed to +the door and hammered upon it till her hands turned red. +For a long time there was no movement, but presently +she heard a shuffle along the passage outside. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened, a Red guard stood there. +</p> + +<p> +"My father, where is he? Quick, for the love of +mercy tell me!" she pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +The Red guard scowled at her. "Is that all you want?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes. Tell me, please, I cannot bear the anxiety." +</p> + +<p> +He did not reply. Instead he seized his rifle, and +placing the butt to her waist pushed with all his might. +Elizabeth went hurtling across the room, to fall with a +crash against the wall. +</p> + +<p> +The man laughed brutally and slammed the door. +</p> + +<p> +More hours passed. Elizabeth never knew how +many, but it seemed a score or so. The room was in +pitch darkness. Racked with physical pain from her +bruised body, mentally a prey to an overwhelming fear, +she sat in a chair, sick and dazed. So Grocz found her +when, bearing aloft a flickering candle, which he set +down, he visited her to make her acquainted with the +orders of the Dictator of the Proletariat. +</p> + +<p> +"I have brought you a light." +</p> + +<p> +She looked up at him dully. "My father—won't +you tell me, please? Where is he? What are you going +to do with him?" +</p> + +<p> +Grocz frowned. "Swing the old man to perdition." +</p> + +<p> +The shock paralysed her muscles. She could only +look up at him dumbly, trying to pull together her +scattered thoughts, to make some coherency of his +words. +</p> + +<p> +"So shall suffer all enemies of the Commune," he +boasted. "So should you too, my pretty lady, and +yet—" he moistened his thick, sensuous lips—"it +would be a pity if the world lost such a charming young +person. My efforts with the Soviet have served you, +sweet Elizabeth, and they have put your life in my +hands. +</p> + +<p> +"Fear not, you shall not die, though your father +hangs at midnight. I shall myself see that the work is +faithfully carried out." He paused, and unconsciously +his fingers touched his head, still bruised and tender +where Imre's stick had caught it. "Afterwards—" he +bowed—"afterwards, pretty lady, you may expect me +here. Your life is mine, I shall make good use of it. +See, I will leave you this candle till then. It shall +not be said that I was unkind to the little lady whose +life I have saved." With which he withdrew from the +room, his eyes flickering as he shut the door. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER VI</i> +</h2> + +<p> +"Ho, there!" +</p> + +<p> +Two men stood outside the castle gates, +cursing beneath their breath. +</p> + +<p> +On the other side a Communist laughed noisily. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, comrades! What want you at this time of +night?" +</p> + +<p> +"We come with a message to Comrade Grocz from +Bela Kun." +</p> + +<p> +The Communist laughed again, and turned to his +companion, whose besotted face grinned vacantly. "A +good joke, eh, my friend! A message from Bela Kun. +What was it good Comrade Grocz told us? 'Open +not the gates even to Bela Kun himself.' Ha, ha! +You will have to come again to-morrow, friends." He +swayed unsteadily on his feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Open! Our message is important." Wenzel's voice +hardened. "Unless Bela Kun's orders are obeyed your +necks may stretch." +</p> + +<p> +Imre's potent wine had done its work well. "Who +cares for Bela Kun? To-morrow I may be the Dictator, +or at least a commissary. Or else my friend here. +Good night, brothers. Come again to-morrow." Arm +in arm the two guards turned their backs and reeled +into the interior of the castle, carrying with them the +flask of wine. +</p> + +<p> +The darkness, unrelieved by even the light of moon +or stars, hid everything within a cloak of invisibility, +so that even the castle itself was but a blur, revealed +only by flickering gleams of illumination from a few +windows. That, and one other thing. On top of the +castle itself three men, working by the light of four +or five lanterns, moved busily about to the accompaniment +of hammering. They were erecting the gallows +from which Imre was shortly to hang. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel cursed at the sudden, unforeseen obstacle +in the fulfilment of his plans. "Hell! May the Devil +seize him! Do you think Comrade Grocz suspected +he was being followed, Arnold?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I think not," Terhune replied slowly. +</p> + +<p> +"Then why the order not to let in even Bela Kun +himself?" +</p> + +<p> +Arnold shrugged his shoulders. "A sense of +authority in the first place, but there is a worse aspect. +After the hanging Grocz wishes no interruption in his +filthy schemes." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel's muscles tightened. "God grant me the +chance to grip his soft throat between my thumbs," +he muttered between his teeth. "But now, is there +another way in? Let us explore, Arnold." +</p> + +<p> +Stumbling along the uneven rocky surface, Wenzel +and his lieutenant proceeded to examine, as far as +possible, the geography of the castle. Keeping well +beneath the shadow of the outer battlements they knew +they were safe from the observation of those within the +castle. It would be only Communists or sentries actually +above them on the battlements who would be likely +to hear or see them—an unlikely contingency. +</p> + +<p> +Presently they came to one corner; here the wall +turned off at right angles to make a second side of the +square in which the castle was built. Continuing, the +two Englishmen turned also. For perhaps two hundred +feet they crept along without discovering any sign of +another door. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Wenzel stopped, restraining Arnold by a +touch on his arm, his keen ears having become aware +of a strange, sighing echo, a noise hollowly flung at +them from out of the darkness. He felt the influence +of a cold wind, a sensation of space. +</p> + +<p> +He looked ahead, then beneath him, and gasped +slightly. Deep down below, an inestimable distance, +were lights eerily waving to and fro. Another few +steps and they might have hurtled into the depths +before them. +</p> + +<p> +The lights puzzled him; he could make nothing +definite of their fantastic action. What, too, was the +soughing below? All at once the solution occurred to +him. The lights below were reflections of others above. +</p> + +<p> +"The Danube!" he breathed softly. +</p> + +<p> +"Good Lord!" Arnold was horrified. "Another +few steps and——" +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps." +</p> + +<p> +That was all! Coolly indifferent to the possibility +of having just escaped death, the White Knight passed +again to the front of Arnold and they retraced their +steps. They reached the gates again, and with the +utmost caution passed by in front of them, then explored +the other side of the castle. +</p> + +<p> +There it was just the same. After the turn, a couple +of hundred yards' walk, and then the blowing wind, +the sensation of space. The castle needed battlements +on three sides only, for the fourth was impregnable; +Nature in the shape of a precipitous drop to the river +provided protection enough. +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" +</p> + +<p> +Arnold detected a grim note of interrogation in +Wenzel's voice. "There seems no hope of admittance," +he answered. +</p> + +<p> +"There has got to be. Do you think I am content +to let the old man hang, and his daughter be violated?" +</p> + +<p> +"What can you do? If Grocz meant all he said at +the station buffet, Imre Kiss will hang at twelve." +</p> + +<p> +"He was deadly serious, Arnold, else why the +gallows?" He pointed to the castle roof where the +men had been working, to notice that there was now +no sign of them. The work was finished, the deadly +instrument ready for its victim. +</p> + +<p> +"The swine!" In the intensity of his emotion +Arnold hissed the word between set teeth. "And +yet——?" +</p> + +<p> +There was no need for him to complete his unspoken +question. The White Knight answered it after +a slight pause. "Arnold, there is one way. I am going +to scale the battlements." +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey—you can't! They must be twenty feet +high or more and probably smooth as glass." +</p> + +<p> +"Yet I am going to try," and there was a finality in +his voice which permitted of no opposition. Arnold, +knowing that his leader would make the attempt, failed +to see any prospect of success. If there had been but +a modicum of light, a single gleam of illumination +by which to see footholds, find weaknesses in the solid +structure of which advantage might be taken, then, +however hazardous and foolhardy the task might have +seemed, there was at least a possibility of triumph. +But in the present circumstances... +</p> + +<p> +The White Knight laughed slightly, and the next +moment he was by the wall, his hands and feet feeling +for the slightest crack, the smallest protuberance which +would afford him a hold. +</p> + +<p> +The moss was thick in parts, and deceiving. It felt +firm and secure, yet it needed little pressure to tear its +roots from the stonework, and was a hindrance rather +than a help, for pieces fell into Wenzel's face, and into +his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +At last his groping fingers found a tiny indent where +the mortar had crumbled away. Not deep enough for +him to insert his finger-tips even as far as the first +joint, yet he deemed it sufficient. He took a firm grip, +and by sheer force lifted his tall body a few inches and +pressed his toes against the wall, until one foot felt +resistance beneath it. So he advanced the first step upward. +</p> + +<p> +Carefully he released his left hand. His weight +pulled at the fingers of the other, but he tightened +his muscles, and somehow he clung, supported by the +toes of one foot. +</p> + +<p> +With his free hand he felt for another hold, and +presently found one, scarcely better than the first, but +good enough. He took hold, swung away, and, as +before, pulled himself up till he could use both hands. +</p> + +<p> +He moved upward, inch by inch, somehow finding +fingerholds where the fierce weather had, through the +centuries, crumbled the stone; but mainly it was sheer +strength, fortified by force of will, which helped him +up, for he held on tenaciously, even when his position +was precarious, when the slightest weakening would +have sent him slipping down. +</p> + +<p> +Up and up! Presently, for all he knew, he might +have been nearly to the top, or yet not above the height +of Terhune's head, for soon he lost count of time and +sense of distance. +</p> + +<p> +Presently it became an effort to think; his brain +reiterated monotonously: "Hold on, hold on." He +must hold on; that much he knew; so he held on, +step by step, inch by inch. +</p> + +<p> +Something wet trickled on his face; he thought it +was moisture from the squeezed moss, till it rolled +upon his dry lips, and tasted warm and salty to his +tongue. He knew then that it was blood from his +fingers where the skin was wearing through. +</p> + +<p> +Up and up! His muscles were tearing and aching +from the strain; his body suffered as if it had been +tortured on the rack. He felt that it was becoming +increasingly difficult to maintain the superhuman effort, +but he was aware that he must continue, knowing if +he fell it would mean death, and though he would +have welcomed oblivion, there was work to be done +first. +</p> + +<p> +More important than the rescue of Imre Kiss was +that of his daughter Elizabeth. A man can die but +once, and hanging is short and sweet, but the girl—she +would die a thousand deaths if once the foul beast +Grocz laid hands upon her, and yet remain alive, and +live thereafter suffering the tortures of the damned. +</p> + +<p> +Up and up! Suddenly he laughed aloud. God! he +had nearly gone that time. The blood streamed +down his arm, spurted over his clothes, even dripped +on Terhune who waited below, pressed close against +the wall with outstretched arms just in case he could +catch the White Knight should he fall. Terhune heard +the laughter and, never dreaming that it was an escape +of pent-up relief from his leader, trembled for the +White Knight, believing he had heard a Communist +somewhere on the battlements. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel wondered at himself. Why had he laughed? +For what in Hades was he climbing the wall? Why +not drop and go to sleep? Sleep, that was it! He was +tired; he could move no more. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps for thirty seconds he remained still, while +his brain, dazed by the tremendous strain his body +had suffered, whirled and twisted in mental +gymnastics. For a brief period he could not collect his +thoughts; then out of the fog of uncertainty +something in his heart repeated once again: "Up—up." +</p> + +<p> +Up and up! Somehow he held on, even when it +seemed to him that to continue was impossible, until +at last the top. One final clamber and he was on the +broad, level wall. Weakly he slithered down and lay +stretched out, while he gasped loudly for breath. +</p> + +<p> +The strain over, his brain renewed its functions, and +he was able to think intelligently, so he allowed +himself five minutes for recovery. This period of time he +estimated, then he rose to his feet, ready for the next +part of the programme. +</p> + +<p> +Somewhere or other he believed there were bound +to be stairs leading down into the castle courtyard. +These he knew he could only find by feeling for them, +so he set out along the wall, step by step. +</p> + +<p> +He was not long in his search. Having traversed +some fifteen yards or so he came to a small tower. +Suspecting that the stairs might be inside he entered, +to find his surmise correct. The tower was a shield +for a circular staircase leading from below. +</p> + +<p> +Treading with the utmost caution he ventured down, +and at length arrived at the courtyard. Even there +not a single man was to be seen, though he could hear +them, for inside the castle there was a noise of music +and singing. Deprive the Hungarian of his music, and +part of his life is erased. +</p> + +<p> +The tune was dimly reminiscent; and a grim +smile creased the features of the White Knight. Well +might it strike a chord in his memory! It was the +<i>Marseillaise</i>! Altered and transposed almost out of +recognition so that even Rouget de Lisle might not +have identified it, the song howled by the drunken +villagers was basically the same as that which had +fired the blood of other revolutionaries in other times, +in another land. +</p> + +<p> +The tune was Hungarianized, the words modernized +by a local poet; but the spirit of the singers was +not altered one iota. So had the people of France sung +their hymn, drinking from their bottles under the +frowning fortifications of Paris, and their thoughts had +been the same, their aspirations similar. The uprooting +of law and order, the disruption of the country—what +mattered so long as they had government for the +mass by the mass? That the rule of the mass proved +even more despotic, still more unjust than before, was +a matter of no account at all. +</p> + +<p> +The large iron-bound doors of the castle proper +stood wide open, and for this Wenzel breathed a sigh +of thankfulness. His entrance should be comparatively +easy. +</p> + +<p> +From the shadows outside he looked into the large +hall. Not yet had the invaders managed to destroy +all semblance of its beauty. The stately walls still rose +grandly up to the raftered roof; its upper panels, +beyond the reach of the peasants, were still adorned with +the trophies of centuries of war and sport. +</p> + +<p> +It was the floor which had suffered most; its +polish was irretrievably ruined, damaged by the +contact of heavy boots, and the mess and filth which +littered it. There, too, sprawled the filthy bodies of +the Communists, drunkenly sleeping off the effects of +a day's carousal. +</p> + +<p> +Those who were still able to remain awake were +piled around a platform which occupied part of the +left side of the hall. Here were the musicians, babbling +in their cups, and yet still musical. +</p> + +<p> +As Wenzel glanced around he noticed one significant +fact. There was not one person looking in the direction +of the door. Now was his chance to gain admittance +inside without becoming a centre of interest! Once +within he believed he might not have to fear discovery; +for one thing, they all looked too drunk to notice the +presence of a stranger, and, again, even if he were +seen, he trusted that the villagers would take him to +be one of the Budapest contingent, while the +Communists from the city might assume him to belong to +the peasants' party. +</p> + +<p> +Pulling his cap well over his head, swathing his chin +and neck in his dirty scarf, and slouching his shoulders +to lessen his height, Wenzel unsteadily crossed the +threshold into the midst of the unpleasant company, +and sank into a chair while he looked around. Most +of them had not yet troubled to take off hats or coats, +so he did not remove his either. +</p> + +<p> +In front of him he saw a magnificent staircase, wide +enough to take twelve men abreast, which led to the +upper floor. By the platform was another door through +which men staggered in, now and again, food or drink +in their hands, so Wenzel assumed that it led to the +kitchens. +</p> + +<p> +Otherwise, barring the front entrance, through which +he himself had entered, he could see no other door. He +frowned slightly. He felt that there should be another +exit—one by which the servants could make their way +into other parts of the house without using either the +kitchen or the main staircase. +</p> + +<p> +If there was one he did not see it, so he made up +his mind to use the stairs, for even as he looked, a +Communist stumbled down, holding on to the carved +banisters for support. If one could use them, why not +another? +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Marseillaise</i> finished, the <i>Internationale</i> rang +out. There was a burst of enthusiasm, and the noise +of the chorus boisterously rolled round the hall with +a deafening din. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel rose from his chair, deeming the time a +good one to move. He crossed the hall to the staircase. +With his foot on the first stair he stopped. Some one +was entering the hall by a door just two or three yards +to the side of him, a panelled door which swung on its +hinges, and had been invisible to him before because it +merged into the pattern of the wall. +</p> + +<p> +It was decidedly a less conspicuous entrance to the +other part of the house. In case he should be observed +he slipped and rolled to the floor. When he arose the +door was in front of him, so the next second he was on +the other side, and at once was conscious of a welcome +silence after the noise of the hall. +</p> + +<p> +The passage ahead of him was lit only in one place, +by a faint light escaping from a room on the right; +from a slightly discernible flicker and the soft +yellowness of its gleam Wenzel guessed it to be that of an +oil lamp. +</p> + +<p> +There was, apparently, no one about; Wenzel +wondered if it were too much to hope that all the +Bolsheviks were congregated together. If so, and if +he could but find where Imre and his daughter were, +to escape would be a matter of extreme simplicity. +</p> + +<p> +There was no object in moving secretively; he +shuffled along the passage until he was level with the +lighted room. With a quick sideward glance he looked +within, but it was empty. +</p> + +<p> +He moved on, and the passage turned sharply to the left. +</p> + +<p> +Having turned the corner Wenzel found the darkness +more accentuated, for there were no other lights +to be seen, and the illumination from the lamp in the +room he had just passed had no effect. +</p> + +<p> +Feeling his way along by the wall he penetrated +further into the heart of the castle. He came to another +corner, and as he turned he became conscious of +approaching footsteps. +</p> + +<p> +The castle seemed all corners. The next moment a +man walked suddenly into view from the left, carrying +a candle in his hand. Wenzel darted back into the +shelter of the passage from which he had just emerged, +a plan of action already forming in his brain. +</p> + +<p> +The other man came nearer. Wenzel crouched for +a spring. Then as the Communist turned into his +passage Wenzel moved. With his left arm he grasped +the man round the body in an unavoidable embrace, +while he used his right hand to seize the man's throat, +and gently squeeze the windpipe between thumb and +first finger. +</p> + +<p> +The candle dropped and sizzled out; the comrade +tried convulsively to free himself, but he was helpless. +Wenzel increased the pressure of his arms and felt +his victim sag limply. Then he released his hold on +the man's throat, but quickly transferred his hand to +the mouth, pressing it fiercely so that no sound could +escape. +</p> + +<p> +"Quick, you dog," he said in a low voice, "tell +me, where is Imre Kiss?" +</p> + +<p> +He released his hand from the man's mouth so that +the other might speak. The man breathed hoarsely, +his body panting as he pulled the air into his lungs with +deep gulps. +</p> + +<p> +"Down in the cells," he croaked. +</p> + +<p> +"You know the way?" +</p> + +<p> +The Communist hesitated. Wenzel tightened the +arm which encircled the man's waist till the unfortunate +prisoner felt the air leaving his body again with +a rush. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes," he muttered hoarsely. "I have just +come from there." +</p> + +<p> +"For what reason?" +</p> + +<p> +"Comrade Grocz sent me with this message: 'Tell +the old man to say his prayers; it is nearly time for him +to die.'" +</p> + +<p> +In his fury Wenzel unconsciously increased the +pressure of his arm, and the Communist whimpered +in agony. +</p> + +<p> +"Mercy, mercy," he gasped, "you are killing me!" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel grunted, but eased up. The man might yet +prove to be of use, otherwise... +</p> + +<p> +"Pick up that candle, light it, and lead me to Imre +Kiss. If you fail, or if you raise the slightest alarm—the +Devil has a special reception for such as you, my +friend, so if you do not want to see him yet awhile——" +</p> + +<p> +Without a word the Communist pulled some matches +from his pocket, and, striking one, looked for the +dropped candle. This he picked up and relit. Holding +it with fingers which shook and trembled in fear he +began to retrace his steps. +</p> + +<p> +Presently they came to stairs which led downward; +cold, stone stairs which, in the past, many a prisoner +had trodden but once—going down. The air was fetid +from the moss-covered walls and lack of ventilation, the +atmosphere chilly and gruesome. +</p> + +<p> +The Communist pointed to the dark depths: "Imre +Kiss is in the second cell on the left." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel did not waste time in words. He roughly +caught the man by his arms, and with a jerk swung +him forward, and the unwilling guide crept down. +</p> + +<p> +There was a murmuring cry from one of the cells. +</p> + +<p> +"Hear my prayers, O Lord! Guard Elizabeth +from the foul hands of the beast; take my life but +save hers. In Thy infinite justice destroy the man who +would dare lay hands upon her. In Thy Omnipotency, +protect her this night; show mercy to her who hath +ever revered Thy Name." +</p> + +<p> +Conscious, suddenly, of intruders, Imre ceased his +invocation. He saw the light of the candle, the two +Communists—his call had come. +</p> + +<p> +He threw himself on his knees, his arms outstretched +toward them. "Save my daughter! for God's sake +rescue her from the arms of that brute! You shall be +well rewarded. But tell the truth to my friends, and on +my sacred oath you will receive a thousand crowns, ten +thousand crowns, the whole of my fortune, my castle! +I will give you a note of hand; it will be honoured I +swear." +</p> + +<p> +His voice broke; he could say no more, and, believing +his appeal futile, he collapsed to the floor with a sob. +</p> + +<p> +The door of the cell was locked. Wenzel turned to +the guide with a growl. "The key." +</p> + +<p> +"Comrade Grocz has it." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel swore. The door was an unexpected +obstacle. Unsuspecting the cells he had not worried +about keys. There was no door made to withstand the +force of his shoulders, but the iron-barred gate... +</p> + +<p> +He seized the candle from the hand of the other. +If there were one single flaw, a weakness... But he +found no sign of such, only that the rust of ages had +eaten into the metal. Wenzel passed the candle back +to the Communist. +</p> + +<p> +If only his arms had not suffered from the strain of +that gruelling climb, if only his hands were not still +raw and hard with dried blood; but Wenzel knew +he would have to make the attempt even if his back +broke. There was still echoing in his memory Imre's +prayer.... +</p> + +<p> +He stood with his back to the door, which was +composed solely of iron bars. His arms hung down +by his side, his hands gripping a cross bar. Carefully +he placed his feet into position. He was ready. +</p> + +<p> +With a slowly increasing force he pushed, with his +feet, his hands, his back, pushed until his limbs were as +taut as the iron bars themselves. Nothing happened, +so he increased the pressure, and the sweat burst from +his forehead and trickled down his face. +</p> + +<p> +A little more and he would be finished, his strength +exhausted. Despairingly he thrust again—the rusted +iron lock moved, bent beneath the strain, and then +burst; the door swung in, and Wenzel, lurching forward +with it, tumbled to the floor, while the Communist +felt his knees weaken at the joints, wondering whether +it were the Devil himself he watched. For twenty +seconds no one moved, then Wenzel rose to his feet +and turned to Imre Kiss: "Come, there is no time to +waste." +</p> + +<p> +Heavily the old man followed Wenzel out, his legs +scarcely bearing him. Not yet did Imre realize that he +was being rescued. "I am ready," he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Wenzel stood before the trembling +Communist, his lips twisted in an ugly grin. "The +candle," he ordered, and hypnotized by the fierce eyes +the agitator from Budapest passed the guttering tallow +over. +</p> + +<p> +There was no mercy in Wenzel's soul then. Somehow +he must dispose of the Communist, otherwise +there would soon be a warning shout. He could not +lock him up. His arm leaped upward as he clenched +his fist. There was a dull thud as it came into contact +with the man's chin. The Communist's head jerked +back, and he slithered to the ground. There would be +no fear of disturbance from him. +</p> + +<p> +Imre felt sick. "Why did you do that?" he murmured. +</p> + +<p> +"It was the only way," Wenzel replied harshly. +"Otherwise he might have raised an alarm." +</p> + +<p> +"An alarm!" Imre's trembling fingers waveringly +flew to his mouth, and slowly his eyes brightened in +hope. "You—you are here to rescue me?" +</p> + +<p> +"You and your daughter, Elizabeth." +</p> + +<p> +Imre tried to speak, his lips quivered; but his brain +was overwhelmed by a rushing flood of relief, and the +words refused to come. He could only stare at Wenzel; +yet all his unspoken gratitude was in that look, in the +curving smile, in the fading lines, and in the eyes +which streamed with tears of joy and happiness. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, we must not stop here." Wenzel's voice +was gentle; more so than it had been for many months. +"First you must show me the way to the roof." +</p> + +<p> +"The roof? ... But ... but ... why?" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel's face hardened. "Question me not, but +lead." And Imre Kiss, who, because of the way in +which his rescuer had wrapped his face, could see +nothing but his eyes, led the way without another word. +</p> + +<p> +There was an incident on the way up to the roof. +They heard approaching voices: Imre turned round +helplessly to the White Knight. Wenzel picked the +other man up and flung him across his shoulders like +a sack of flour. +</p> + +<p> +Two Communists staggered into them. "Ho, ho!" +leered one. "Our friend carries a man to his room. +Why is it a man you choose to take to your room, +comrade?" and he dug Wenzel in the ribs. "What +is the matter with him?" +</p> + +<p> +"He is fuller with wine than a barrel." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, ho! Have they found some more?" +</p> + +<p> +"It flows like the Danube in the hall. I am just +going down to have my fill." +</p> + +<p> +The two Communists exchanged glances. "It will +be a big one," said one, "we had better get there first." +</p> + +<p> +When Wenzel set Imre upon his feet again, the old +man turned to him. "That was clever," he said simply. +</p> + +<p> +At last they reached the roof, and crossed to where +the gallows stood awaiting its victim. Imre shuddered. +</p> + +<p> +The long length of rope with its running noose, the +noose which was never to tighten, was there, prepared. +Wenzel observed the fact grimly. It was for this that +he had come. He stepped forward and pulled the +rope from the supports, and having untied the noose +estimated the length. +</p> + +<p> +"Seventeen feet," he surmised, "a drop of from +four or five feet, allowing for tying." Turning to +Imre he asked: "Is there a direct way from here to +the battlements on the right, or must we descend to the +courtyard and cross?" +</p> + +<p> +"No; there is an exterior staircase—a modern +innovation. My own, as a matter of fact." +</p> + +<p> +"Huh! It may save your life." Wenzel laughed +shortly. "You scarcely foresaw this when you had it +built?" +</p> + +<p> +"God forbid!" +</p> + +<p> +A few seconds later they were on the battlements at +the spot where Wenzel had climbed scarcely an hour +ago. He formed his lips into a circle, and a hoot of +an owl rang through the quiet night, to be echoed from +below. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel turned to Imre: "Listen carefully to my +instructions. I shall drop you by means of this rope +to where my friend stands below. It is five feet short. +When it reaches its capacity I shall tug it twice. Then +you must untie yourself and drop. When you meet my +friend you and he must go at once to the nearest village. +Afterwards Terhune—my lieutenant—will know what +to do. You understand? You must set off at once." +</p> + +<p> +"But—but my daughter?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a rasp in Wenzel's voice when he answered: +"You must obey me." +</p> + +<p> +It did not take a moment to fix the rope round Imre's +waist. Afterward the old man climbed over the parapet, +and Wenzel commenced to lower him. Foot by foot the +hemp passed through his hands till it came to the end. +He lifted it slightly and lowered it. Then he raised it +again for the second tug, and a calamity occurred. +</p> + +<p> +The rasping fibre bit into his tender hand, where +it suddenly scraped a nerve. Involuntarily his hand +unclasped—and Imre dropped, the rope with him. +</p> + +<p> +The loss of it was a blow: Wenzel had been relying +on it to let down Elizabeth and himself. But there +was no time to waste in vain regrets. It was more +than possible Grocz might send down further insulting +messages to his prisoner, and once the escape was +discovered it would be awkward for both the girl and +himself unless they were away by then. +</p> + +<p> +Awaiting only Arnold's signal that Imre was safe, +Wenzel commenced cautiously to feel his way to the +roof and back again to the stairs which led into the +castle. He had learned from Imre the position of +Elizabeth's room and now he made his way toward it. +</p> + +<p> +There was no one about. Still more fortunate proved +the fact that the key was in the door. He unlocked it +and entered. +</p> + +<p> +The room was in pitch darkness; the candle which +Grocz had left had already burned down to nothing. +Hearing him, Elizabeth gave a muffled shriek. +</p> + +<p> +"Fear not, mademoiselle." +</p> + +<p> +Three simple words, but to Elizabeth they represented +a suggestion of unexpected comradeship. The +deep, resonant tone of his voice echoed round the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Fear not!" A cultured voice at last, when all she +had heard that day had been the slurring accents of the +uncouth, the uneducated. +</p> + +<p> +"Fear not!" Whatever words that voice might have +conveyed to her hearing none could have been more +superfluous, for the deep notes inspired trust, revealed +the voice of a gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +Just as her father had done, Elizabeth sobbed +slightly at the unexpected possibility of succour which +was so suddenly held out before her, dazzling in its +promise. Once again the strain of the occult within +warned her that the man whose voice had floated to +her through the darkness was a friend, even though +he had not told her so. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, I have come to rescue you." If +she had needed proof his words supplied it. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, thank God!" she murmured. "For if—if +that man had come to me I would have died.... +But—my father——" +</p> + +<p> +"Is already safe and sound." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel heard a soft, cooing laugh. "Oh, monsieur, +how can I thank you? Whatever can I say or do to +show my gratitude? My father safe! It +sounds—wonderful. You have done this?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have." Impatiently he replied, but if his manner +was brusque she did not notice it. +</p> + +<p> +In a low, vibrant voice, which grew softer as she +approached him, she poured out her gratitude in full +measure: "Monsieur, what you have done this night +will for ever live within my memory. On every +anniversary of this date I shall bless your name, remember +every word you speak, picture to myself every line of +your face——" +</p> + +<p> +"Stop!" Fiercely, passionately he hurled the word +at her, for the pain of her gentle thoughts seared into +his heart with a rending, tearing gash. "Every line +of his face." God! Why had she said that? How well +he knew that once she saw his face each line of it would +indeed be for ever depicted in her memory—but not in +the way she believed. Its forbidding distortion would +haunt her, its satyr-like grimness would represent a +horror from which she would turn away in fear and +loathing. +</p> + +<p> +"I want neither your thanks nor your remembrance. +Do you not realize that at any moment your father's +escape may be discovered? Get ready!" he ordered, +and his words cut through the intervening space with +the sharpness of a rapier. +</p> + +<p> +Bewildered and confused by his attitude she could +only answer in a low undertone: "I am ready." What +type of man was it who had so suddenly slipped into +her life? Intuition, her sense of hearing, everything +suggested that her unseen rescuer was a gentleman, +yet his last words were those of a blustering bully, a +coarse and domineering adventurer. +</p> + +<p> +"Then come." He stretched out his arm, and his +hand came into contact with her wrist. He seized it +firmly, and pulled her roughly to the door. +</p> + +<p> +With the other hand upon the door-handle he +stopped dead, as suddenly from below there was a +reverberating shout, a rumbling yell of rage. Wenzel's +lips compressed, and unconsciously he tightened his +grip upon her arm, till she could stand it no longer, +and she screamed slightly with the agony. +</p> + +<p> +He thought it was fear: "Keep quiet; there is still +time to escape." +</p> + +<p> +She writhed at the scorn in his voice, but she knew +that in spite of his optimism escape was rapidly becoming +impossible. Once the rabble downstairs took it into +their heads to make sure she was still safe—— +</p> + +<p> +The noise swelled louder, as a drunken fury seized +the crowd. "Where's the girl? Hang her! ... Death +to the <i>bourgeoise</i>! Where's her room?" +</p> + +<p> +Clearly the shouts echoed along the passages; and then +there was a noise of pounding steps, a clamorous yelling. +Worked into a frenzy the mob was on its way up. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel would have pulled her out in an attempt to +avoid the Communists, but her knowledge of the castle +warned her that they were hemmed in, that they were +being approached from both ways. +</p> + +<p> +"Too late. We are cut off." Quite calmly she +informed him of the fact, so that even he could not +fail to appreciate the lack of fear in her voice. +</p> + +<p> +"You are not afraid?" he asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"If my father is safe—no," she replied quietly. +</p> + +<p> +He secured the key, and turned it in the lock, breathing +a sigh of thankfulness that the door was strongly +built, the lock more so. For a short while it would +resist the onslaught of the attackers, and in that time +he might yet find a means of escape. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me quickly, is there no other way out, no +other door?" +</p> + +<p> +"But one door and one window." +</p> + +<p> +"The window——" +</p> + +<p> +She did not hear the finish of his sentence for the +deafening din outside. Like a pack of wolves the +crowd was gathered to batten on the flesh of the innocent +girl, and like the animals whose human prototypes they +were they raised their voices at the scent of prey. +</p> + +<p> +When they found the door locked their anger knew +no bounds. With fists and feet they beat upon the +stout door till it shivered beneath the assault. "Kill her! +Hang her!" they shouted, and only one expostulated +with them. +</p> + +<p> +Mad with rage at the thought of his victim escaping +his clutches, even at the end of the hangman's rope, +Comrade Grocz tried in vain to stem the flood. Above +the roar of other voices his stridently rose: "Comrades, +comrades, the girl is mine. She was given to me by +Bela Kun, the Dictator of the Proletariat. You shall +not kill her! Stop, stop, I say!" +</p> + +<p> +He might have attempted to prevent a raincloud +bursting. "Get away, Grocz. She must die." +</p> + +<p> +"But she was given to me!" he shrieked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yah! Yah!" Two or three laughed boisterously, +and one cried out: "You forget, Comrade Grocz, that +the Dictatorship has abolished all private ownership." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay! Kill her! Hang the girl!" +</p> + +<p> +"Stop! Stop!" Grocz grew desperate. "Listen. +Do not kill her ... let us share her, as all good +Communists should." +</p> + +<p> +As though at a signal the wild noise now ceased, +while this fresh aspect of the situation slowly burned +itself into the obtuse minds of the Communists. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel had to close his eyes; a red filmy cloud +floated before them, summoned by the boiling fury +which surged up from his heart. Only with an effort +of will did he pull himself together and think +rationally—he wanted to throw open the door, throttle the +vile laughter of the men with his hands, smash them +with his fists, pound them to death. +</p> + +<p> +He knew that she had heard, for he heard her catch +in her breath with a gush of horror, and felt her +trembling. This time he could not mock her weakness. +</p> + +<p> +"The window," he prompted. +</p> + +<p> +"Had the worst come, I should have—have thrown +myself out." +</p> + +<p> +"You mean—suicide?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she breathed softly. "May Heaven forgive +me for the thought." +</p> + +<p> +"What is below?—the courtyard?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, the Danube, fifty feet down." +</p> + +<p> +"The Danube!" So her room was on the fourth +side of the castle? A fifty-foot drop—but if it were +a clear fall into the water there would be at least a +chance. "Is it a clear drop?" +</p> + +<p> +"Practically. The cliff at this part overhangs the +edge of the water, and the castle is built on the extreme +edge. With a good jump one might avoid the bank." +</p> + +<p> +"Yet you spoke of suicide!" +</p> + +<p> +"The current, monsieur, runs swiftly at this part. +No one could hope to swim against it." +</p> + +<p> +Outside the Communists understood at last, and +now, urged on by a different kind of excitement, the +tumultuous clatter recommenced. "Break open the +door! Let us feast our eyes upon her beauty." The +pressure of weight was beginning to have its effect, for +the door cracked suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +So it seemed that Death might claim him at last! +Wenzel felt a glow of contentment stealing over him. +Perhaps Zita waited for him, there, just beyond the +Veil, with outstretched arms.... +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, are you prepared to jump?" +</p> + +<p> +"Gladly. Death can be no worse than—than—— Oh, +Mother in Heaven, what has happened to our +unhappy country? Monsieur, I am ready." +</p> + +<p> +Not too soon. The door was groaning and splitting. +She guided him to the window, and flung it open. +Wenzel felt her raise herself up until she was standing +on the ledge. He did the same, and so tall was the +window that he, for all his height, could yet stand upright. +</p> + +<p> +Before them was a grim blackness, an abyss of gloom. +Not even was there the light of a star to twinkle a +message of confidence. Behind them an equal density, +and men whose souls were blacker still. Nothing but +impenetrable darkness in every direction. +</p> + +<p> +The moment was awe-inspiring, soul-crushing. +There was a sensation of immensity, a feeling of +unfathomable depth. When they jumped it would +be—whither?—where? Perhaps, by a trickery of fate, on +to the cruel rocks which bordered the river, and which +would crush their bodies into pulp; or perhaps into +shallow water where they would split open on the river +bed. +</p> + +<p> +"You are still not afraid?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but ready." Her voice was firm and steady, +and Wenzel felt a sudden thrill of admiration at her +nerve and courage. All at once it seemed to him a +pity that such a woman should die. Still... +</p> + +<p> +Even as the door gave way he picked her up in his +arms. Bracing his legs he jumped.... +</p> + +<p> +He experienced no particular feeling, just a hotch-potch +of different sensations—of suffocation, of +helplessness, the noise of raging winds and rushing waters, +eternity, and finally a shock, which left him dazed and +stunned, as they entered the water. +</p> + +<p> +Down, down, and still down. His lungs were bursting. +There was no question of thought. It was instinct +which made him curve his body so that their hurtling +flight to the bottom was diverted; it was the inevitable +fight for life which set his legs kicking, shooting his +body up to the surface again. +</p> + +<p> +Then air, precious life-provoking air. He filled his +lungs with deep soul-satisfying gulps, and soon +consciousness returned to him. Elizabeth was still in his +arms, limp and motionless, and Wenzel believed she +was stunned. Better so—she might have struggled. +</p> + +<p> +Already his thoughts were turning toward life, and +while before jumping he had welcomed death, now he +wanted to live, to reach the bank, to carry his precious +burden to a place of safety. +</p> + +<p> +With this resolve came the knowledge that Elizabeth +had not exaggerated the strength of the current. +He felt it now pulling, now boisterously twisting and +pushing them along hither and thither; but all the +time insidiously, inexorably drawing them along on its +bosom. +</p> + +<p> +If Elizabeth—if he—were to live he must strike out +for the bank. Somehow he shifted the girl until she +was half across his back, so that he could hold her with +one hand, then with the other he commenced to swim. +</p> + +<p> +He found it easy. With sure, even strokes he +gradually progressed, and buoyed up with enthusiasm and +confidence he believed it would be a matter of minutes +only before he reached the river bank. The current, +apparently, was not so strong as it seemed. +</p> + +<p> +Yet the minutes dragged by. Surely now, he +thought, he must be in the shallows. He stopped short, +and trod water, attempting to feel bottom, but his feet +met with no resistance. +</p> + +<p> +Once again his arm and his legs thrashed out—then, +all at once, he realized the truth. No wonder the going +was easy, for he was swimming with the current instead +of across it! +</p> + +<p> +He turned to his right, and instantly experienced the +rush of the water, for now he made no progress forward, +but was swept along, broadside on. +</p> + +<p> +He was tired, and the cold water began to chill him, +but urged by an impulse which he could not translate +he struggled on, ignoring the possibility of surrendering +himself to the water and the waiting arms of Death. +Elizabeth must live—that much he knew; and so he +kept going, kept on until his body was once again +racked with pain. +</p> + +<p> +He had done so much that night, what more could +he do? Why should he do more? If he gave up +now he could sleep so easily, so peacefully! His mind +worked sluggishly. One, two, three! One, two three! +His strong arm, though weakened by strain, continued +to strike out regularly. His limbs moved like an +automaton, but he still progressed. +</p> + +<p> +The rush of the water grew louder, and Wenzel's +head began to sing. Much more and it would be the +end. Much more... much more... The words +twisted themselves into a refrain, and the music was in +time to his strokes. Much more... +</p> + +<p> +Something scraped the toe of his boot, again and yet +again, and he knew he had touched bottom. A few +more strokes and he discovered that he could stand. +Somehow he stumbled through the water till it dropped +from his chin to his hips, from his waist to his ankles, +and then—there was no more water. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +When Elizabeth came to she was in a peasant's +hut, lying in a crude bed. Across the room, bending +over a log fire, a woman was cooking something, the +appetizing odour of which pervaded the room. +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth gazed around wonderingly, unable to +collect her thoughts together. But presently she +remembered. One after another the vivid details +returned to her, concluding with the last terrible jump +into an inky nothingness.... +</p> + +<p> +Where was her unknown rescuer? She looked +around, but except for the peasant woman she could +see no one. Then, on a chair she saw a note. It was +so brief that it brought the tears to her eyes; just: +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + MADEMOISELLE,<br> + You are safe with this woman.<br> + <i>Adieu.</i><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"<i>Adieu!</i>" Good-bye! She gazed away. +</p> + +<p> +He had almost written <i>Au revoir</i>, for as he himself +had laid her on the rough blanket, and gazed upon her +beauty, his lips had trembled. It was not that she was +really like the Zita he remembered, yet... +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER VII</i> +</h2> + +<p> +The hour was past nine o'clock before the +Council meeting broke up, and Eugene +Hamburger, Commissary for Agriculture, together +with his assistant, Apor, were free to leave. +</p> + +<p> +For a while they walked together discussing the +work of the day. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, my friend, life is different from what it was +in the old days. You and me, what were we before +the glorious days of the Revolution? What were we +all, who are, to-day, the proud leaders of the world? +Slaves of the capitalists, sweating and toiling for a +meagre pittance, living in slums and tenements, while +our masters reaped the harvest of our industry. What +did they do with the money? Increase our wages? +No! Improve our houses, help our families? No! +They lazed away their useless lives in luxurious +idleness; lived in glorious palaces; travelled in handsome +limousines." Hamburger chuckled. "Times are not +the same. We are the nobles now, Apor, you and I; +we are the people who count." +</p> + +<p> +"How can we be the nobles? I thought we were +all equal now?" Apor dryly put the question to the +commissary. +</p> + +<p> +"Stuff and nonsense! You provoke me to anger, +comrade; you are for ever casting shadows upon the +golden vista of Communist dreams." +</p> + +<p> +"Well! Well!" mollified Apor. "You must +remember that the brighter the sun shines the blacker +is the shadow. Do not think I am not satisfied. My +only question is: will it last?" +</p> + +<p> +"Bah! Croaking again! Can it do otherwise? How +can anything be altered? Does not the Soviet control +the country from top to bottom: the Army, the post +offices, the banks, the public services, and the people? +Do you think the people would wish to rise against us, +even if they dared? You are stupid, friend! They have +never been so well off as they are to-day. Free as the +air, the poorest as rich as the wealthiest, the affluent +as destitute as the pauper. The State owns everything, +and in the eyes of the State each one of us is equal. +Could life be better?" +</p> + +<p> +"And yet the members of the Soviet ride about in +motor-cars, and their humble 'equals' walk to work!" +</p> + +<p> +Hamburger's cheeks flushed. "You argue absurdly, +Apor. The State merely lends the motor-cars to the +Soviet for their extra responsibility." +</p> + +<p> +"I see!" Apor paused, as if thinking deeply. +"But the capitalists of the old days, were they not +entitled to motor-cars for their share of responsibility?" +</p> + +<p> +The commissary growled. "You are impossible +to-night, comrade. You see matters through a smoky +pair of spectacles. Much more, and I shall suspect that +you have views which do not agree with the doctrines +of Communism." +</p> + +<p> +Apor answered smoothly: "Not at all, my friend. +I merely argue as one equal to another. We are as free +as air, I think you said. Except to think differently, +eh, comrade? But there, my tongue is sharp from the +vinegar I swallowed to-day. I argue only that I can +have the benefit of your wisdom, to be even better +assured of the splendid principles of Communism." +</p> + +<p> +Hamburger was pleased, for he laughed softly. +"It is a good thing I know you as well as I do, Apor. +But there; have I not always thought you a wise sort +of a fellow, for all the queer kinks in your brain? I +think we part here. I have to-day moved into my free +quarters in the Hotel Bristol. Good night, Apor." +</p> + +<p> +"Good night..." Hamburger disappeared into +the darkness of the night, and Apor continued savagely +to himself: "... and may your bones rot on a dung +heap, and your flesh feed the rats." +</p> + +<p> +He turned on his heels and retraced his steps. +Presently, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lurking +shadow move softly to his side and walk with him. +</p> + +<p> +"You are late to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Their rhetoric becomes wilder as their +courage strengthens." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"What do I mean, Wenzel? God! only what I say. +Their grip on the country becomes firmer every day. +Unless something happens soon, Hungary will be +ruined beyond all power of recovery. Already she +is weakening beneath the crushing ravages of these +Russian-financed Bolsheviks. Yes, Wenzel, there is +scarcely one who does not spend Russian gold. But +where have you been the last two days?" +</p> + +<p> +"Rescuing Imre Kiss and his daughter Elizabeth. +Have you heard?" +</p> + +<p> +"Heard!" Suddenly Apor exploded with laughter. +"My dear man, the only thing which surprises me is +that you did not hear the echo of the howl which went +up when the Council was made cognizant of their +escape. For ten minutes nearly every man present +shouted at once. But how did you learn of their plans +on the Castle Gisella? When I came to warn you, you +had gone." +</p> + +<p> +"Arnold overheard Grocz at the station. He was +boasting to his friends of what he was going to do to +the father—and the daughter. Now, what news have +you for me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Bad, Wenzel; bad. For once you have slipped. +Your identity is known. You are no longer safe in +Budapest." +</p> + +<p> +"Damn!" Aghast at the information, Wenzel +unconsciously spoke in English, and Apor started. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, for God's sake! Never more truly was it +said that walls have ears, Wenzel. Detectives swarm +all over the place. A word in English is enough to +draw a dozen after you." +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because already the rumour has gone round that +the White Knight is English." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel groaned. "Refugees must have been babbling. +After all my warnings, too! Yet, tell me, how +came they to connect Wenzel with the White Knight?" +</p> + +<p> +"Simply! When Count Bakocz escaped they sent +for you. You were not there and they searched your +rooms and found—a white knight." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel swore again, this time beneath his breath. +To have left such an easy clue behind him! +</p> + +<p> +"What a fool I was, what a fool! Now must I find +fresh lodgings." +</p> + +<p> +"No, Wenzel, you must go altogether. They are +hunting for you right and left." +</p> + +<p> +"Enough, Apor!" There was a steely warning in +his voice, but Apor heeded it not. +</p> + +<p> +"But, Wenzel, I am Hungarian born and bred, +I, who have, under a different name, suffered untold +miseries at the hands of the Bolshevik swine, I am +prepared to give my life gladly, and doubtless shall, +to bring an end to the Red Terror. But you—you +are an Englishman, a foreigner! Why, already we +Hungarians owe you far more than we can ever hope to +pay. Why should you linger here, your life forfeit the +moment you are discovered?" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel did not at first reply, but when he did his +voice was curiously soft: "Dear friend, ask me not +my reasons. Sufficient that even though death means +nothing to me, should I allow you to stay here in +danger, you who act as my eyes and ears in the Soviet +Council, and yet fear to come myself? Pursue not the +question, Apor. It hurts. Now tell me the latest plans." +</p> + +<p> +"Conditions are more terrible than ever, as I have +already said; but, worse still, petty counter-revolutions +are springing up all over the place." +</p> + +<p> +The Englishman made an angry exclamation. +"Fools! Why must they set about such hazardous +undertakings, which can only end in humiliating defeat? +If they would only wait with patience just a little longer. +In Vienna there is already a movement afoot.... Yet +I may not say more—in fact, I know very little myself. +Soon I expect a friend with news, but until then..." +</p> + +<p> +"Do not blame them, Wenzel. In one way—well, +it is pleasing to note that there are still Hungarians +living who love their country, who have not fallen under +the thrall of the mouthing Bolshevik orators." +</p> + +<p> +There was a significant undercurrent in his voice, +almost of apology, which did not escape Wenzel's keen +ear. They were passing under one of the few street +lamps which were still burning, and the Englishman +put out his hand and restrained the other, then swung +him round so that they were face to face. +</p> + +<p> +"Apor, you are not joining any counter-revolutionary +movement?" +</p> + +<p> +Beneath his steady scrutiny Apor's eyes dropped, and +Wenzel knew that he had guessed the truth. +</p> + +<p> +"Apor! Why must you? Don't you realize that +the time is not yet? You will only run your head into +the loop which awaits it if you continue; and if you +do not fear death, won't you please try to remember +that, situated as at present, you are a most valuable +spy? There are more saved lives to your credit than +fingers on your hand." +</p> + +<p> +"I know! I know!" Apor shook his head helplessly, +and there was an unhappy crease just above his +eyes. "Yet my soul writhes every time I look at the +Red cockade. It is the insignia of blood. Supposing +one of the counter-revolutionary movements should +turn out to be a success and I were not in it? I should +never forgive myself." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel's voice was hard when he replied: "Yet, +Apor, you must work for me alone. You cannot serve +two taskmasters. You are inflamed by a fanatical +patriotism, and yet, worthy as it may seem, you are +blinded by its light, you do not foresee its actualities. +Come, Apor; if you love Hungary guard yourself +from suspicion, keep free from anything which may cast +doubt upon you in the eyes of the Council. Now of +these petty revolutions! What happens?" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't ask me!" His voice cracked. "It is awful! +The Council tells Szamuelly, then the brute leers, and +goes off to his Death Train; the next day—he hangs +Hungarians promiscuously. Guilty or not guilty, he +strings up any man upon whom he can lay his hands +and——" +</p> + +<p> +There was a dramatic interruption. Some twenty +yards behind there was a sudden burst of noise, a +sound of running footsteps and hoarse shouting, then +a series of flickering flashes which heralded the ensuing +staccato explosions of several rifles. +</p> + +<p> +Simultaneously there was a scream and the whistling +screech of bullets. Wenzel grunted slightly. He was +unhurt, but it had been but a matter of inches. A +little more to his right, and at least one of the missiles +would have found a billet. +</p> + +<p> +"Quick, Apor, are you unhurt?" +</p> + +<p> +"Only just." +</p> + +<p> +"Then run like Hades. It is another poor victim. +Whatever happens we must not be found together." +</p> + +<p> +Without another word they parted, and rapidly +merged into the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Wenzel stopped, and from a distance +watched. Around the figure of a man stretched out +upon the pavement were grouped half a dozen Red +soldiers, laughing and joking. +</p> + +<p> +One of them kicked the helpless, stricken man, and +even at that distance Wenzel heard the moan of pain. +Evidently the human hare was still alive. +</p> + +<p> +Two of the soldiers hoisted the man to his feet, then +dragged him along, and Wenzel followed, impelled +by a curiosity he could not define. Perhaps for nearly +a quarter of a mile the Bolsheviks pushed and pulled +the wounded sufferer, till at last they were near the +river. The soldiers kept on until they were half-way +across the Francis Joseph Bridge, where it was pitch +dark, and from where he was Wenzel could see nothing. +Yet, all at once, there was a desperate cry for help and +then—a splash. The Reds laughed boisterously, and +continued their way. Presently there was silence. +</p> + +<p> +The Englishman stood still, gazing into the blackness +of the night. The Danube sucked yet one more +body into its depths. There was a distant rumble of +thunder, from where a storm played round the hills +beyond old Buda, yet it seemed to Wenzel more a +rolling chuckle of laughter from Mars, as he watched +and ticked off one more life in his already long and +fearful list. To the fierce Roman god of war it must +have seemed almost as bloody a sport as a European +war. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel restlessly tossed and turned about in the +small truckle-bed which he had managed to secure for +the night, vainly endeavouring to woo his active mind +into repose. +</p> + +<p> +He found himself haunted by dreams and visions, +jumbled together into a confused sequence of events, +in which but three pictures were outstanding. First +and foremost he could see, once again, the scene on +the Francis Joseph Bridge, the wounded victim of +Bolshevik persecution, struggling desperately in the +arms of the brutal Red soldiers, being gradually lifted +up for the final throw over the parapet of the bridge. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel had seen death in many guises, till his heart +had become callous through familiarity. He had +himself killed Germans in hot blood, and Hungarian +Bolsheviks in cold blood, yet never had he believed +till now that death could be so ghastly, so savage and +ruthless. +</p> + +<p> +It might have been the despairing cry which had +rung through the night air, the almost invisible +surroundings in which the crime had been committed; +it might have been the echoing sound of the significant +splash; whatever it was, Wenzel could not altogether +dismiss the scene from his memory, it revolved, repeated, +and exaggerated itself. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as the murder on the bridge faded away, it +was succeeded by another vivid picture; there on the +floor lay Zita's father, his corpse slashed and hacked, +and Zita herself, dead from shock, her eyes mirroring +the terrible scene. +</p> + +<p> +Yet there was one other image which floated before +his eyes, hid slightly by a multi-coloured haze—once +again he held in his arms a living, pulsating body, +though limp and unconscious. In his muscular arms +she lay as lightly as a feather, yet her soaking clothes +had wrapped themselves round her limbs, revealing +and betraying every curve, every line, so that he saw +she was exquisitely formed, beautiful in her tapering +svelteness, her divinely proportioned shape. +</p> + +<p> +The dark tresses of her hair were massed into a +mystic aureole, a dusky halo which emphasized the +clarity of her sun-burned complexion. He remembered +the symmetry of her features, the daintiness of her nose, +the soft curve of her lips. +</p> + +<p> +It was this fantasy which lingered longest in his +dreams, so vivid in one sense, and yet so ethereal. +When his thoughts idly hovered upon Elizabeth he +saw her so, but when he would have concentrated, +have definitely and indelibly implanted the picture in +his memory, it faded away like a puff of smoke. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he realized that he was more wideawake +than ever; his brain, stirred by the imagery of his +mental travels, was insistently devoting itself to +Zita—and to Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +He was conscious of an overwhelming impulse to +see Elizabeth again. He wanted to compare her finely +chiselled nostrils with those of Zita, to discover whether +they quivered sensitively with pride and emotion as had +Zita's, whether her eyes, too, glowed with an inward +fire. +</p> + +<p> +He wanted to hear again Elizabeth speaking. That +night in the castle her voice had been so full of throbbing +music, so liquidly clear and steady. He wanted to feel +once more the velvet softness of her skin, the smooth, +cool touch of her fingers. +</p> + +<p> +He did not think it treachery to Zita to think thus, +for she and Elizabeth seemed so much alike. In the +thoughts of them both, in the rapid replacement +and displacement of their images in his vision, their +differences dissolved, and merged gradually into one; +and the face which smiled at him from the happy +fastnesses of his dreams was neither that of Zita nor that +of Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +Somewhere within him, though as yet he failed +to realize it, the warm blood was beginning to flow +again; chilled and frozen by the death of Zita, it was +infinitesimally thawed by the thought of Elizabeth. +Something tugged at his heart-strings: he felt an +overpowering impulse to visit the Château Juhusz, where +were Elizabeth and her father, the Bakocz family, and +others whom he had rescued. +</p> + +<p> +He knew he could get there and back again to +Budapest on the morrow; the inclination strengthened +as he thought the matter carefully over. Finally he +decided to make the journey, and in less than five +minutes he was asleep. +</p> + +<p> +When he awoke the next morning the sun was +shining in a cloudless sky, and because of the strange, +unaccountable exuberance of spirits which enveloped +him it was as if it were a good omen for his journey +to the Château Juhusz. +</p> + +<p> +He knew that it was dangerous to venture into the +streets in broad daylight; it was well within the bounds +of possibility that he might be seen and recognized by +any one of a dozen or so people: Bela Kun, Szamuelly, +or any one of the Council; Garami or one of the Red +guards at the prison; still more likely by one of +the many detectives who swarmed the city spying +out enemies of the Commune and signs of counter-revolutions. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, he was blithely contemptuous of the +fact, believing it to be one thing for them to see him, +but another to catch him. His legs were capable of +covering good ground in the event of a chase; his arms +he considered more than equal to two, or even three, of +the average stunted and degenerate Bolsheviks; and +if it came to gunfire there was in his hip-pocket a fully +loaded revolver which he could use effectively. +</p> + +<p> +What he did was to wrap his dirty scarf more tightly +round his neck, and to pull his cap even further over +his eyes; prepared for all emergencies he ventured out +and made his way to the station. +</p> + +<p> +As he approached nearer his destination he was surprised +by its unusual quietness. Where usually it was +thronged with travellers, Red guards, surly railwaymen, +shouting newsboys, and all the medley of types usually +scattered around a railway terminus, this morning +there was comparatively no one to be seen, only here +and there a small group of people, gesticulating wildly, +and arguing with one another. +</p> + +<p> +Not until he was immediately opposite the once +handsome station did he discover that all entrance to +the platform was forbidden. +</p> + +<p> +"What's the matter, comrade?" he asked of a Red +guard who lounged near. +</p> + +<p> +"The railwaymen have struck for more money," +replied the other. +</p> + +<p> +It was grimly humorous, but Wenzel dared not +display any sign of his real feelings. He spat on the +ground. "Ho! May the fires burn brighter in Hades, +but your news is anything but good, comrade! There +is a pretty wench anxiously awaiting my arrival some +miles off. How am I going to reach her?" +</p> + +<p> +The guard grinned. "She will have to wait even +longer than a day unless you walk." +</p> + +<p> +"Bah! I don't believe you. Wait until the Council +takes the situation in hand. The strike will fizzle out +like damp gunpowder." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps." The guard shrugged his shoulders. +"Anyway, I hear Comrade Szamuelly is going to settle +the dispute. He has a winning way with him, has +Szamuelly." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay! Well, I hope he succeeds, that's what I say. +I hope he does." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel moved away, growling, but if the words +which the Red guard caught were enough to make him +grin, they were nothing compared with the fury which +inwardly consumed the White Knight. +</p> + +<p> +So much for good omens! All his plans to visit +the <i>château</i> that day, and return at night, completely +shattered. +</p> + +<p> +He walked heedlessly along the streets, utterly +oblivious of the people in his way, so that there were +several into whom he banged, passing on without a +word, and because they were rapidly becoming crushed +and cowed by the Terror they continued meekly and +unprotestingly. +</p> + +<p> +For perhaps twenty minutes he traversed the streets; +not until then did it occur to him that he might walk +to the <i>château</i>. It would be a long and arduous tramp, +but had he not been hardened to such by four years of +route marches? To think the matter over he stopped +for coffee at one of the innumerable coffee-houses, many +of which were still carrying on a desultory trade. +</p> + +<p> +The Château Juhusz, though more modern than +the Castle Gisella, had long ago fallen into decay, and +in consequence had been deserted by its owners. Built +during times of peace, it had been designed more for +comfort than utility, and so the ravages of time, which +left older and more strongly built residences comparatively +untouched, had eaten into the delicate fabric of the +building and underpinned its less solid foundations. +</p> + +<p> +It was Apor who had suggested these quarters as +an admirable hiding-place for the hunted refugees, and +Wenzel, examining its situation with a critical eye, +recognized its advantages. Built deep in a thick pine +forest on the slope of a small valley, it was encircled +in every direction by well-wooded hills, and was +completely shut off from the world. The nearest village +was approximately ten miles away; with it, naturally, +the nearest railway station. +</p> + +<p> +Who had built it in such an inaccessible spot, and +why, Wenzel had been unable to fathom, but at any +rate it was more than admirable for the purpose +suggested by Apor. If the Communists imagined for a +moment that the <i>ci-devant</i> magnates, reared in the lap +of luxury, could eke out an existence inside the weather-scarred +walls of the <i>château</i>, they were content to leave +them there unmolested; except where prisoners came +easily to their hands, plunder was of paramount +importance. A ten-mile march over the hill-tops with no +prospect of loot at the other end would be a senseless +waste of time—so the retreat sheltered many who owed +their lives to the White Knight. +</p> + +<p> +By train and a subsequent walk the total distance was +nearly forty miles, but, remembering that the railway +track curved fairly considerably about twenty miles out +of Budapest, Wenzel had a shrewd suspicion that by +road the distance might be appreciably less. +</p> + +<p> +He paid his reckoning, quickly left the coffee-house, +and made his way toward the shopping district. Some +of the shops were open, but their windows were +lamentably bare. In the Communistic dictionary the +word shopkeeper is synonymous with <i>bourgeois</i>, and so +the Reds in Budapest had the happy trick of descending +upon the unfortunate shopkeepers and, in the name +of the Soviet, appropriating the greater part of their +goods, for the benefit, usually, of the reformed battalions +of Red guards. +</p> + +<p> +Twice, in less than a quarter of a mile, Wenzel +entered a possible shop and inquired for a road-map of +Hungary. In each case the reply was the same. One +of the men had tears in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"If you had come but the day before yesterday I +could have served you. Yesterday"—he choked—"the +Red guards came in. They were marching to +the front, they said, to send the cowardly Czechs +scuttling back to their own country, and therefore in the +name of the Government they demanded all my stock. +I must be patriotic, they said. They took everything, +whether it was of use or not. What they did not want +the men gave to their wives or mistresses. I am +penniless now. All I ... I can do is ... is to become +a Communist myself. Perhaps I shall be better off +then." +</p> + +<p> +Eventually Wenzel secured what he wanted. Poring +over the map with eager eyes he discovered that his +assumption was correct. By road, so far as he could +estimate, the distance would be not more than +twenty-seven to thirty miles. +</p> + +<p> +Thirty miles! A seven-hour walk at the most! +Wenzel glanced at his watch. There would just be +time to get there before night blotted out the unknown +roads. He memorized the map, deeming it unwise +to consult it more than necessary, and once having +fixed the route in his mind he set out. +</p> + +<p> +The hours passed by. About noon the sky clouded +over, and Wenzel cursed, afraid it presaged rain, but a +westerly wind soon carried the darkest patches along, +and the sun shone again, though fitfully. +</p> + +<p> +By this time he had left Buda well behind, and also +O'-Buda, higher up in the hills, built on the spot where +once had flourished the Roman colony of Aquincum. +Below him the city was spread out in a panorama, the +Danube glitteringly winding its way through the centre. +He found then he was not covering the distance he had +estimated—the road seemed for ever on the upward +trend, and he realized, much to his surprise, that even +in seven months the physical frame can soften slightly. +</p> + +<p> +After several heavy-going miles the grade lessened, +his walk became easier, and before another two hours +had passed his long legs had more than made up the +lost time. +</p> + +<p> +He had something to eat at a little roadside tavern, +though it was scanty and poorly cooked, consisting of +<i>Gulyas</i>, the national Hungarian dish, a type of Irish +stew. This he washed down with an inferior red wine. +For all that it was a princely repast compared with the +food obtainable in Budapest, where watery soup and +bread were sometimes the only means of subsistence. +</p> + +<p> +At five o'clock he was at the foot of a hill, and within +five miles of his destination. By now he was tired, his +left heel was troubling him; but his heart was light, +and he hummed the air of a Hungarian folk-song. The +top reached, he gazed at the scene before him. The hill +dropped steeply to a valley, only to rise as quickly +again to an even higher elevation. On the other side +of the farther hill was the <i>château</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The picture was delightful: Nature appeared to have +permitted herself a free hand, and her subtle brush had +not wavered in her task. The woods were dotted thickly +but unevenly, and the blank spaces had been filled up +with either green patches of meadowland or else dark +grey areas of bare, rugged nakedness. +</p> + +<p> +There was but one blemish: four thin, parallel lines, +painfully stark and uncamouflaged, forged their way +from as far as one could see, and betrayed the hand +of man. In callous comparison with the beauties +of the valley the railway lines represented human +commercialism, inexorable progress. +</p> + +<p> +The sun was dipping rapidly now; Wenzel dared +waste no time, and so he stepped forward once more +on the last stage of his journey, and crossing the iron +road to Budapest he soon mounted the second hill, till +reaching its highest peak he saw, a quarter of a mile +below him, the ruined mansion. +</p> + +<p> +He threaded his way through the trees until they +thinned out; then through them he could see the +<i>château</i>. No wonder it was ignored by the Communists. +The mere sight of it was nearly enough to damp his +newly born sensation of—of—— He shrugged his +shoulders when he tried to analyse his emotions. +</p> + +<p> +Not many of the long French windows were whole, +or even unharmed. Most of them were devoid of any +semblance of glass, just a few of them still boasted +cracked and broken remains. The exterior woodwork +was dull and colourless, the tiles of the roof green with +moss. +</p> + +<p> +What were once gardens surrounding the building +were now a wilderness of cultivated plants turned to +weeds. The flagged paths almost lost their identity +below the drooping greenstuff; a mournful Mercury, +chipped and yellow, no longer poured out a cascade +of pure water into the fountain beneath, but stood up +desolate and useless. +</p> + +<p> +He had seen it before, but it seemed to him that its +atmosphere was more doleful than ever, an unwritten +epitaph on the straits to which the unhappy aristocrats +had fallen. He wondered what effect it had upon its +present occupiers. +</p> + +<p> +His question was to be answered immediately, for +even as he watched three people issued from within, and +he started slightly as he recognized two of them. +</p> + +<p> +In the middle was Terhune, with Elizabeth on his +right, and on his left one who could only be Cecile; +for it was as if he were gazing at her photograph, so +vivid had been Arnold's many descriptions of her. +</p> + +<p> +Eagerly he watched Elizabeth, noting every fleeting +expression of her face, every movement of her graceful +body, and his heart sang a pæan of joy as he realized +that she more than fulfilled his picture of her, built +up from that brief period during which she had lain +unconscious in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +For some few minutes his eyes followed her, till the +vision of her as he saw her now, her beauty emphasized +vividly by the misted background of the <i>château</i>, was +engraven into his memory. +</p> + +<p> +Not until then, not until he was satisfied that as often +as he wished in the future he would be able to visualize +her so, did he turn his attention to the other two. +</p> + +<p> +Soon he smiled. Even if he had not been previously +aware of the romance which had quickly budded in the +hearts of Cecile and his lieutenant, he could not have +remained unaware of it now. They were both so palpably +in love; both so absurdly young. +</p> + +<p> +Even from the distance at which he was, decreasing +every second as they moved in his direction, he could +see the smile which lighted up their eyes as they turned +to one another, and the alert, eager glance which +hovered upon their faces whenever the other spoke, +eager to drink in every word. +</p> + +<p> +They reached the edge of the woods; much further +and they might have come face to face with Wenzel; +but they turned in time. He let them get back to the +doorway, then he rounded his lips, and the next moment +the harsh cry of an owl floated through the air. +</p> + +<p> +The effect on the trio was humorous. Terhune +stopped suddenly as he realized the significance of the +call, and Elizabeth and Cecile turned toward him in +surprise. Wenzel saw him listening, uncertain whether +he had heard aright; so he hooted again, and the next +moment saw and heard Terhune replying to him. +</p> + +<p> +There had to be explanations; all at once the +expression on the faces of Terhune's companions turned +from bewilderment to blazing, joyful anticipation, and +he saw Elizabeth's lips speak three words, and, almost +as if the echo of them had floated to his ears, knew that +she had repeated: "The White Knight!" +</p> + +<p> +Next, Terhune was emphatically shaking his head. +Wenzel's eyes twinkled—he knew well what they were +pleading: to speak to the White Knight, to see him—and +then, immediately, the twinkle disappeared; his +face hardened with an inward pain. Supposing they +did see him, supposing the gentle eyes of Elizabeth or +Cecile should look upon his ghastly features.... +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey! You here! I did not expect you. You +have brought some one else?" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel shook his head. "No. I have come for no +reason whatsoever. A whimsy! I was curious to know +for myself how every one is faring." +</p> + +<p> +"Happily, or rather as happily as is possible. The +<i>château</i> is heaven to most of the present inhabitants. +After being robbed of everything they possessed, turned +out of their homes, and then, if they protested, hunted +high and low; some even now cannot understand what +it is to spend an easy night without fearing what the +morning will bring. Sometimes I wonder how it is that +we are overlooked. Still, if the devils should come"—his +voice became grimmer—"there is a rifle here +for every man, with some to spare, and ammunition in +plenty." +</p> + +<p> +"Good! Any other news?" +</p> + +<p> +"Francis Bakocz has been plaguing my life to ask +you to let him help us." +</p> + +<p> +"Humph!" Wenzel pursed his lips and looked +toward the crumbling pile. "What do you think of +him? Would he be a good man or not? We could do +with some one else: matters are becoming worse and +worse in Budapest." +</p> + +<p> +"He has enough courage for two, and if pushed to +it could act a part well. In my opinion he would have +only one fault. He would be inclined to be reckless." +</p> + +<p> +"A bad failing, Arnold. Yet, all the same—I will +speak to him. Listen, friend! As I am here I would +like to talk to—to—one or two for a while, but, as +you know, there are—reasons why they must not set +eyes upon me. To-night, therefore, find me a room. +It must be pitch dark. There I will receive Francis +and Cecile Bakocz, Elizabeth Kiss, and perhaps her +father. Go in now, and prepare everything for me. +When you are ready, hoot, and I shall come." +</p> + +<p> +Arnold returned to the <i>château</i>, a frown of +puzzlement creasing his forehead. To-day Wenzel was +different: hitherto he had taken no interest in the +people he had rescued; once they were safe in the +retreat they had passed from his mind, so that what +he had done for them might have been merely helping +them across a crowded street. Why, therefore, this +sudden interest in the refugees? +</p> + +<p> +He was met at the door by Cecile. +</p> + +<p> +"You have seen him?" The last word she uttered +in a soft whisper, breathing into it a subtle reverence. +</p> + +<p> +Arnold nodded. "Yes," he replied abstractedly. +</p> + +<p> +She clasped her hands together. "Oh! If he only +knew how much we all wish to meet him, to thank and +express our gratitude for all he has done for us." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps he does!" +</p> + +<p> +She turned swiftly round, so that she was directly +facing him. "You mean—he is coming—here, and soon?" +</p> + +<p> +"To-night!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! Oh!" Too full for words, Cecile could say +nothing. For days she had prayed for the opportunity +of speaking to the White Knight—to him who had +snatched her father from the very gates of death. +Now at last it seemed that she was to have the +opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +"I—I shall see him then?" +</p> + +<p> +Arnold hesitated. He realized that he was going to +have difficulty in explaining the situation. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes and no," he muttered slowly. "You may be +able to speak to him, but not actually see him." +</p> + +<p> +Two faint, twin lines betrayed themselves upon her +forehead. "Speak to him but not see him! I do not +understand!" +</p> + +<p> +"No, mademoiselle, I did not expect you to do so. +The White Knight has instructed me to prepare a +pitch-dark room in which to receive you, and only in +that room will you meet him." +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head doubtfully. "Yet still I do not +comprehend." +</p> + +<p> +Arnold hesitated. "It is that no one shall recognize +him." +</p> + +<p> +For the moment she still did not realize, then her +eyes filled with tears, and when she spoke reproach +and disappointment throbbingly disclosed themselves +in her voice. "He is afraid of being betrayed! +How could he think that, when there is not one of us +here who would not sooner die than expose him to the +Communists? Does he not trust us?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, do not think that of him. Of +course he trusts you. Could he do otherwise?" Skilfully +he endeavoured to change the current of her +thoughts by the implied compliment, but the hurt +rankled in her heart. +</p> + +<p> +"Then what other reason has he for taking such +precautions?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, plenty.... I—I mean, I do not know! I do +not question him!" Arnold floundered, and silently +cursed as he foresaw too well what her next words +would be. +</p> + +<p> +"So he is not the only one who does not trust me," +she replied coldly. "I am sorry, monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle!" Desperately he appealed to her. +"I did not mean that; you are twisting my words. +Why—I—I would lay down my life to serve you. +I—I——" He stopped suddenly as he realized that +his heart was overpowering his head, thoughts which +he supposed to be locked in the deepest recesses +of his being were forcing themselves to utterance. +"Mademoiselle, I must go at once," he muttered. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well!" She shook her shoulders and turned +aside. With a despairing look at her he slowly moved +away, and so missed the bewitching smile which sprang +into her eyes as she watched him disappearing down the +passage. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER VIII</i> +</h2> + +<p> +An unrelieved blackness settled over the countryside +before Arnold intimated to Wenzel that +everything was ready. Only from the mansion +itself was there any illumination, for, despite all possible +precautions, from two or three windows came the dull +gleam of candlelight. There were no curtains by which +the unfortunate refugees could conceal the light, so +overcoats, cloaks, and other articles of wearing apparel were +made to serve instead. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel proceeded toward the <i>château</i> until he was +near enough to glance in turn through several +peep-holes. The scene was anything but cheering, and +despite his hardened heart he could not help feeling +a tinge of pity for those inside. +</p> + +<p> +The rooms within were bare of any semblance of +furniture or decoration other than what the occupiers +themselves had made. Naked walls grimly frowned +down upon bare floors, and in the general decay one +room was no better than the next. In the majority of +the bedrooms the only beds consisted of dried leaves +over which were flung ladies' petticoats as sheets, men's +overcoats as blankets. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel soon noted that the hands of the fairer sex +had not remained idle any more than those of the men. +Here and there were bunches of wild flowers, their +beautiful colours serving, in some cases, to help hide +some of the worst patches on the walls. Pieces of +fantastically shaped wood had been tied round with +pieces of ribbon, lace, or other trimmings, and these were +placed in positions where they could best ornament +the rooms. +</p> + +<p> +In several cases the scene had been brightened by +cleverly executed charcoal drawings portrayed on the +walls, and here and there Wenzel glimpsed colours, +though how the artist had obtained them he could not +guess. +</p> + +<p> +The men had apparently set to work with a will, +aided by what carpenter's tools Arnold had managed +to obtain for them, for there were crudely fashioned +chairs scattered about, or else uneven three-legged +stools. In one room was a rough table. +</p> + +<p> +Somehow Wenzel was grotesquely reminded of the +<i>Swiss Family Robinson</i>, of <i>Crusoe</i>, and other similar tales +of boyhood days. As he looked in upon the <i>château</i> it +seemed to him as though the people inside might also +have been cast away on some desert island. To think +that they were in the centre of a supposedly civilized +continent.... +</p> + +<p> +Arnold was waiting for him by the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Everyone is madly anxious to speak to you," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"I can see only a few," Wenzel answered curtly. +</p> + +<p> +He knew beforehand that he was going to be +embarrassed by their gratitude, and it annoyed him. +"Haven't you told them, Arnold," he continued +testily, "that I am doing all this purely for revenge, and +to have a chance of killing some of the Communist +brutes? Haven't you explained that their lives mean +nothing to me?" +</p> + +<p> +Arnold grinned in the darkness. Perhaps he knew +his leader better than the White Knight knew himself. +"No, I haven't. I have left that for you to do. +However, who will you see first?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think—Francis Bakocz! Now take me to the room." +</p> + +<p> +To the White Knight came Francis. +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur," he said to Wenzel, "I want to become +one of your lieutenants." +</p> + +<p> +"Lieutenants! Who told you I have assistants?" +</p> + +<p> +Curtly the words were hurled at him through the +dark, and Francis started with surprise. The mysterious +White Knight's voice was hard and cruel. +</p> + +<p> +"No one," he faltered; "but there is yourself, +and Monsieur Terhune, and I believed there might be +others." +</p> + +<p> +"Why should you believe so?" +</p> + +<p> +"I—I—— Monsieur, I do not understand you! I +imagined what I did because the escapes you arranged +were so wonderful, so marvellous. It seemed to me +that you must have many more to aid you. Do you not +want me to—to—speak thus?" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel laughed grimly. "I questioned you to discover +whether they were your ideas or some you might +have heard." +</p> + +<p> +"They were my own," Francis said quickly. "No +one knows anything of you, though we often discuss +you when Monsieur Terhune is away," he admitted +frankly. +</p> + +<p> +"And you think I am a supernatural being?" +</p> + +<p> +"Almost, monsieur! My father, for instance! +When that hideous brute of a jailer was put to guard +him he gave up all hope. Only you, monsieur, could +have got the better of that monster." +</p> + +<p> +There was a brief silence, broken eventually by +Wenzel: "You think so?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am certain of it," replied Francis, with boyish +enthusiasm. "From what my father says of the jailer +the man must have been an ogre. Ugh! the very +description of him makes the ladies shudder." He +laughed slightly. "Father's description might be that +of the missing link. If ever he and I meet I shall kill +him for all he did to my father." +</p> + +<p> +Again a silence, so long that Francis could not +maintain his composure. "Monsieur!" he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Go, go!" Wenzel spoke in a muffled voice. "I +will let you know if you can help me. Only go now, +and tell Terhune to come to me in ten minutes' time." +</p> + +<p> +The boy went, and Wenzel was left to thoughts which +seared and blistered. "The missing link!" He, who +had once been handsome, who could have once looked +at himself in the mirror, and been satisfied with its +reflection of healthy, youthful virility, now "an ogre"! Not +even could he pretend to himself that his ugliness +had been exaggerated in the Count's eyes by the +ghastly surrounding of the prison, the apparent cruelty +of the jailer. He was not blind; there were times when +he was himself appalled by the picture thrown at him +out of the looking-glass. +</p> + +<p> +Yet the hurt of Francis' words, though they cut +deep into his sensibilities, did not compare with the +mental pain of his own thoughts. If a man thought +that of him, what would be a woman's feelings, how +much worse would be the reaction on the more fragile +ideals of a young girl? +</p> + +<p> +A seething disgust of himself swept upward from his +heart; soon it seemed to him that such a monstrosity, +such a caricature of a man, ought not to live. Grimly +it occurred to him that one day he might be held up +as an example to bad children, the threat of becoming +like him being used as a means of inducing them to +yield to parental authority. +</p> + +<p> +His thoughts became more self-accusative and +gruesome. When the door opened and some one entered +he cursed that he had not said half an hour to Francis +instead of ten minutes. +</p> + +<p> +"Arnold! For God's sake leave me alone, man, for +another twenty minutes." +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur, it is not Arnold." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel sat perfectly still. The low, vibrant +intonation echoed the music of the voice which had +persistently rung in his ears the last few days. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle! I did not expect you," +</p> + +<p> +'You know who it is then, monsieur?" +</p> + +<p> +"You are Elizabeth Kiss." +</p> + +<p> +She laughed softly. "You must be able to see in +the dark, monsieur. My eyes cannot pierce the veil +of blackness to observe even my hand, and yet you +recognize me!" +</p> + +<p> +"It is not your face I recognize, mademoiselle, but +your voice." +</p> + +<p> +"But you heard it for so short a time that—that +awful night." +</p> + +<p> +"Yet I have not forgotten it. It reminded me of +some one I knew many years ago." A surging memory +of his last day with Zita carried him quickly back into +the past, but it hurt so that he forced himself to forget, +to think only of the present. "How came you here? +I was expecting Terhune." +</p> + +<p> +"I know," she replied softly. "I overheard Francis +telling Monsieur Terhune. I was afraid that perhaps +you would refuse to see me, so I slipped in beforehand." +</p> + +<p> +"You did wrong! Why did you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because I shall never rest with an easy conscience +until I have told you of the gratitude which is in my +heart for all that you have done for my father and for +me." +</p> + +<p> +"Stop! Mademoiselle, believe me, I do not doubt +that gratitude for one minute, and if you wish to +express it you can do so in no better way than by +dropping the subject immediately and never renewing +it again." +</p> + +<p> +"But, monsieur, it seems so—so callous, so cold, to +let it pass in that way. Yet, if you will not listen to all +I would like to say in regard to what you have done +personally for my father and me, will you at least let +me tell you of what you have done for the nation? +</p> + +<p> +"For years my father has been engaged in a stupendous +literary task, that of writing up the personal history +of the Apostolic Kings of Hungary, and the evolution +of our race. He has nearly finished—a year, two years +may see his task completed. If he—he had died, the +history would have perished with him, for only he knows +where the work is hidden. Monsieur, do you not feel +proud that you have done this for the nation?" +</p> + +<p> +He was deeply stirred by the story she told him. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad you have told me," he said simply. +</p> + +<p> +Beneath the thrall of her presence it did not occur +to him then that the saving of the history, or ten +histories, should have meant nothing compared with +one human life, but at that moment he was conscious +only that she was speaking to him, and that slowly, +inexorably, he was beginning to fall in love with her. +</p> + +<p> +This meeting only served to emphasize the attraction +for her which, almost against his will, had pulled him +to the <i>château</i>, away from Budapest. He wished he +could see her, watch her ever-changing expressions, +behold her again as he had beheld her outside the +<i>château</i>, and begrudged the cloak of darkness which +blacked out her marvellous eyes from his vision, the +eyes which, close to, he had seen covered by alabaster +eyelids. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, there is a chair just here. Will you +not come closer so that I can put you into it?" Even +to himself it was obvious that his voice was deeper, +more alive, and throbbing with an emotion he could +not control. +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth was conscious of the change, for she +hesitated. "I do not mind standing, monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +"Come! I should feel more easy if you would sit." He +heard her move slightly, then his outstretched +hand came into contact with her arm. Gently he slid +his hand down to her wrist, and guided her to the +seat. He felt her quivering gently within his grasp, +and, aware of her lack of fear, his heart leaped when it +seemed to him that there could be but one reason for +her nervousness. +</p> + +<p> +Reluctantly he withdrew his hand, and in doing so +experienced a sensation of chilling self-abnegation, and +forcibly realized that roseate-hued dreams were blinding +his sense of reality. The voice of conscience interpolated +its everlasting chant: to feel thus was disloyalty +to Zita; while revealed in a colder light the suggestion +that Elizabeth could reciprocate his sudden feelings in +so short a time became impossible. +</p> + +<p> +His heart cried out in protest, so that when he next +spoke there was an unshed tear in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Won't you tell me of yourself, mademoiselle? +Elizabeth Kiss! It is a pretty name." +</p> + +<p> +"It is an old Hungarian name." +</p> + +<p> +"It is prettier still in my language. You know it?" +he questioned. +</p> + +<p> +She answered him in English. "A little. I learned +it many years ago when I was still at school." +</p> + +<p> +The music of her voice seemed to echo and re-echo +in the quietness of the room. Never had his own +language sounded so exquisite. Behind each carefully +pronounced word whispered a faint suggestion of an +accent, liquid and sibilant, like the ripple of a pure +mountain rivulet. Each passing moment revealed to +him a new charm in her, and every new discovery +wrapped him deeper in the meshes of a growing +adoration. +</p> + +<p> +"You speak it splendidly, mademoiselle. You must +continue to talk to me in English. You were telling +me of yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Was I?" She laughed softly. "There is so little +to tell you. Until the night you rescued us my life had +been uneventful, monsieur. I have lived all my life +at the Castle Gisella, except only during my schooldays, +or whenever my father journeyed to Berlin, Paris, +or London. Then he took me with him. +</p> + +<p> +"I have been shut off from the world since 1914, +though I have been happy and content, except when +hearing of the wounds my unhappy country has suffered. +Not even of the Commune had my father and I heard +anything until a few minutes before we were invaded +by the villagers." +</p> + +<p> +"You must suffer all the more then, now that your +eyes are open?" +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed, yes. It has been terrible! Each day we +hear worse news, until it seems that the woes of Hungary +are unending." Suddenly she choked. "Yesterday I +received the worst information of all." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel frowned, wondering why he had not been informed +by Terhune of fresh facts. Then he remembered +that he had seen his lieutenant for a few minutes only. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes," he impatiently prompted her. +</p> + +<p> +"Yesterday Monsieur Terhune arrived at the +<i>château</i> with a fresh visitor from Budapest——" +</p> + +<p> +"Dregely?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Poor Gobor Dregely. He too has lost everything +like the rest of us. This morning he and I were +talking together of old times. He knew all my relations +in Budapest, and—and—oh, monsieur, he told me of +the murder in the streets of my cousin, Coloman. +Coloman and his friend were walking home one night; +they met a group of drunken Communists who +demanded of them to hack the royal crown from their +uniforms. Coloman refused and—and then—oh! it +seems impossible—one of the Communists snatched +a revolver from his pocket and shot down my cousin +and his friend." Her voice broke, and Wenzel heard +the sound of a stifled sob. +</p> + +<p> +He breathed hoarsely. Suddenly all other feelings +were gone save those of blind, murderous hate. His +hands clenched till the nails of his fingers bit into the +flesh of his palm, but he felt nothing of the physical +pain, only an overpowering mental anguish at the +thought of the brutal murder. Always he felt thus +upon hearing fresh Communist horrors; this time it +was intensified by the fact that one of the victims was +Elizabeth's cousin. +</p> + +<p> +"Dregely—knows he who was that Communist, +by any chance?" Fiercely he put the question to her, +not daring to hope that she would be able to reply in the +affirmative. +</p> + +<p> +Her voice hardened: "Yes. Dregely was Coloman's +friend, and by some means found out. He wanted +revenge, but the Communist left Budapest." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes; but who was the murderer?" +</p> + +<p> +"He was a People's Commissary, by name Comrade +Gonnard. When Dregely searched for him he heard +that Gonnard was touring the country, preaching on +behalf of the Commune for sanguinary measures against +the <i>bourgeoisie</i>. Dregely would have followed, but he +was proscribed an outlaw, and so had to flee himself +from the clutches of the Communists. Only now is +he safe, thanks to the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I heard of Dregely's danger, and sent Terhune +to help him. But this Comrade Gonnard"—his voice +boomed with fury—"for what he has done he will +have to settle with the White Knight. Do not worry, +mademoiselle; the White Knight will avenge your +cousin, I swear by the blood that Gonnard shed that +the Communist shall die if I have to follow him from +one end of Hungary to another!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, monsieur!" She sighed. "I believe I am +gentle-natured, it hurts me to see a fly struggling to +escape the ruthless clutches of the spider, yet my heart +leaps with joy to hear you say that. If only I could be +of assistance to you!" +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps you can," he breathed softly. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me quickly," she said eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +He had not meant to let the words slip out, they were +an echoing murmur from his heart, and now he felt +embarrassed, unable to think what to say. Once again +the battle between his desires and his sensitive +conscience waged fiercely. There was much he wished +to tell her, but all the time a mocking voice taunted +him on his forgetfulness. What was his love worth, it +asked, that he could forget Zita so soon? Less than +two months ago he had stood over her dead body and +vowed remorseless revenge, and yet already his heart +was stirring at the proximity of another woman! +</p> + +<p> +With pitiless insistency the hammer-strokes of his +self-inflicted arguments flayed his soul till he writhed +in agony. He forced himself to thrust away the mental +pictures of Elizabeth which constantly depicted +themselves in his imagination, and hardened his voice in an +endeavour to deceive himself as well as her. +</p> + +<p> +He had nearly led himself into a trap. There seemed +to him only one way out of it. "You can help me by +never mentioning a word to anyone that I am going +after Gonnard." +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur!" Reproach battled with anger in her +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry, but prattling tongues, even in this +<i>château</i>, can do inestimable damage. Already some +one, who, I do not know, has in his—or her—gratitude +kindly betrayed the fact to my enemies that I am +an Englishman. Whether by accident or design I +do not know. In any event, a word in English now +is sufficient to raise a horde of amateur and +professional trackers on the trail of the unfortunate +speaker." +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth bit her lip, and wished it were within her +power to understand her mysterious rescuer. In the +first place, from what little she had seen of him, he was +utterly unlike the evenly balanced, phlegmatic Englishmen +whom she had previously met. His moods changed +with the rapidity of a temperamental woman: he was +tender, fierce, calm, and tempestuous by turns. At one +moment his voice throbbed with sympathy, the next it +grated with bitter cynicism. +</p> + +<p> +His lack of trust hurt her. The pitch-dark room! +She tried to persuade herself that there was some other +reason, but in vain. It could only be that he feared +to reveal his face even to her, in case of treachery. She +rose to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +"I must go, monsieur. There are others who wish +to express their gratitude to you beside myself." With +an effort she kept her tone at an even level, concealing +the disappointment which she felt. +</p> + +<p> +His thoughts were chaotic. He did not want her to +go so quickly—there were still many questions he +wished to put to her, anything to keep her near him; +but his lips seemed paralysed. +</p> + +<p> +He was saved a final decision. The door opened and +Terhune's voice rang out: +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, I am sorry to interrupt, but Apor is here +with grave news." +</p> + +<p> +Instantly his brain cleared. "Mademoiselle, you +will excuse me!" +</p> + +<p> +Her lips twitched bitterly. There was a faint note +of pleasure in his voice. Evidently he was pleased to +get rid of her! "I will go at once," she said. +</p> + +<p> +Terhune guided her to the door, and when he came +back Apor was with him. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I light up now? The window is well covered," +asked Terhune. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes. I am tired of the gloom." +</p> + +<p> +When the candle was alight Apor turned to Wenzel. +</p> + +<p> +"My only hope was that you would be here, though +how I even guessed that you might be I do not know. +Telepathy, no doubt. How did you get here? There +is not a single train running." +</p> + +<p> +"Walked here," Wenzel grunted. +</p> + +<p> +Apor whistled in surprise, and gazed at his leader +with admiration in his eyes. "It must have been a +hard walk, Wenzel. For myself, I confiscated a motor-car +and left it in the woods three miles away. Wenzel, +if ever your help is needed, it is now, at once. The +Devil's let loose. +</p> + +<p> +"Just after three to-day the news came through to +the Council that a counter-revolution had broken out +in Bira. There was an uproar. Szamuelly said that if +the Soviet were to reign supreme all counter-movements +must be squashed. For three hours he pleaded for a +free hand to take his Death Train to Bira to settle the +revolution his own way, but there were some there who +hesitated at the idea. In the end he won. I left at once +and searched Budapest for you or Terhune. I found +no trace, and something prompted me to try here. +</p> + +<p> +"Wenzel, some time to-night the Death Train will +leave Budapest for Bira. If it ever gets there, God help +the poor devils! Szamuelly is a fiend incarnate. +Something must be done to stop him arriving. If we can but +delay him twenty-four—or even twelve—hours one of +us might get there in the meantime, break the movement +up, and get the ringleaders of it to flee for their +lives." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel nodded his head. "You are right, Apor. +How many miles is it to Bira from here?" +</p> + +<p> +"Seventy." +</p> + +<p> +"Good! Then give Arnold your car. Arnold, you +must go at once to Bira. Fortunately only to-day I +bought a map. Here it is. Drive like Hell! You +ought to be there at the very most in six hours. In the +meantime somehow or other we must delay the Death +Train." +</p> + +<p> +"But how?" It was Apor who put the question. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel shrugged his shoulders. An eloquent +answer! There followed a silence while each of the +three men racked their brains in an effort to elucidate +the problem. The minutes ticked by. Then, suddenly, +Wenzel turned to Apor: +</p> + +<p> +"The line which runs in the valley the other side +of the hill—is that the direction to Bira?" There +was hope in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +Apor nodded. "Yes!" he said, but his expression +was puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +Noticing it Wenzel laughed slightly. "Our course +is clear, Apor, but we must hurry. You and I have +work to do. While Arnold hurries to Bira we will +go down into the valley. There are plenty of tall trees +there." +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" Still Apor did not understand. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you see?" explained Wenzel impatiently. +"Arnold has a saw. We will fell one of the trees and +drag it across the lines. It will be apt to stop any +train which comes along; the quicker it is travelling +the better havoc there will be." +</p> + +<p> +There dawned in Apor's eyes a smile of triumph +which slowly travelled down to his mouth. "What a +wreck! If there arc not a few dead Lenin Boys +afterwards——" Suddenly he snarled: "The murderous +brutes! I hope to God it may kill every one of them +and smash the Death Train to pieces!" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel smiled cruelly. "Maybe it will, Apor. +Maybe it will. Now go, you, Arnold, to the car, and +on to Bira, and you, Apor, bring me that saw." +</p> + +<p> +He chuckled as his two followers rapidly made their +exit from the room. Then he blew out the candle, +and moving to the window drew aside the overcoat +which covered it and gazed into the night. There was +no compunction in his heart for what he was about +to do—in fact, it was not of Szamuelly and the Death +Train of which he thought, but Gonnard, the murderer +of Elizabeth's cousin. +</p> + +<p> +"And afterwards," he whispered to +himself—"afterwards.... Take heed, Comrade Gonnard, the +White Knight is on your track. May you sleep well +to-night! You have not many more nights left." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER IX</i> +</h2> + +<p> +The darkness of the woods was overpowering. +When Wenzel ventured out, followed by Terhune +and Apor, he wondered how they were all +going to find their separate ways, but when he mentioned +this to Apor the Hungarian laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"Do not worry. I shall be able to guide you to +the valley. As for Terhune," he turned to Arnold, +"keep that star immediately above that distant pine—the +one over there on the peak—always in the same +position, and you will find yourself right on the road. +Then walk to your left until you come to the car. Keep +straight on for two miles, when you will arrive at +cross-roads, take the right-hand road, and after that—well, +follow the map, and remember to take care of the petrol. +It will only just be sufficient, I am afraid." +</p> + +<p> +They saw Terhune stumbling through the trees, +hands outstretched to warn him of impeding obstacles, +before they continued their own way. After he had +been following Apor for a short distance, it appeared +to Wenzel that the pseudo-Communist found his way +with uncanny ease. +</p> + +<p> +When he said so Apor laughed. "You forget, +Wenzel, I was born in these parts, and in my younger +days there were no automobiles. We had to horseback +everywhere, and so became accustomed to making our +way about in the dark." +</p> + +<p> +Soon they reached the summit. "The valley is +before us," Apor announced. +</p> + +<p> +"How the Devil can you tell? Gad! it looks to me +as black as the nether regions. You must have cat's +eyes." +</p> + +<p> +Apor laughed. "A result of upbringing. I cannot +really see, so that it is probably instinct which enables +me to move about so easily." +</p> + +<p> +He led the way, Wenzel following close on his heels, +and for some minutes they proceeded downward into +the valley. Then Apor stopped. +</p> + +<p> +"Can you hear anything?" he asked, in a puzzled voice. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel listened acutely, but caught no sound other +than the slight movement of trees, the rustle of scuttling +animals, and the grumbling chirrup of disturbed birds. +</p> + +<p> +"What kind of a noise do you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +Apor hesitated. "I scarcely know. More like a +distant hum." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel gazed into the darkness. He did not expect +to see anything, for he believed trees to be on either +side of him, but looking to his left he saw a small, red +reflection away in the far distance. +</p> + +<p> +He caught Apor's arm in a pinching grasp. "Look!" +</p> + +<p> +Together they watched the curious glow; almost +simultaneously they realized that it was becoming +larger, and then Wenzel too heard the echo of a faint, +whispering drone. +</p> + +<p> +"What the Devil!..." exclaimed Apor. +</p> + +<p> +The glow apparently increased—then they saw that +it was not actually growing larger, though this effect +was caused by the fact that the reflection was rapidly +approaching in their direction. +</p> + +<p> +It was Wenzel who first grasped the truth. "Damn! +Oh, damn!" he exclaimed. "We are too late! It is +the Death Train!" +</p> + +<p> +Apor could not contradict. It was too evident now. +White billowing masses of smoke, belched forth into +the air, were lit up and reddened by the reflection of +the roaring boiler-fire. Evidently it was approaching +at full speed, for the engine swung round a curve and +the watchers saw following a twinkling line of lights. +For a second only, then the coaches were hidden again +behind the smoke-clouds. +</p> + +<p> +The effect was weird and unearthly. Swirling into +the air the smoke formed briefly into strange, phantomesque, +and terrifying shapes, which gave way instantly +as other puffs spread out and re-formed into other +ghoulish creations. +</p> + +<p> +It might have been a burning chariot from Hell +furiously driving along toward them, fiendishly blazing +its defiance into the night: were it the Death Train, +with Szamuelly inside, then indeed was the description +all the more applicable. +</p> + +<p> +Filled with despair, Wenzel watched the progress +of the train which meant the collapse of all his plans. +At the rate the locomotive was moving, Szamuelly +would have reached Bira and completed his massacre +long before Arnold arrived, and more Hungarian lives +would have been lost in a fruitless cause. +</p> + +<p> +He groaned, and hearing him Apor sobbed slightly. +"Satan is with him. Szamuelly must have altered his +time-table. Wenzel, I can't look, I can't." He sank to +the ground and buried his face in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +By now the Death Train was passing below them, +roaring onward, screeching and wailing like a lost soul +in agony. Four coaches there were, brilliantly lit; one +flashingly revealed a party of men, holding glasses in +their hands, toasting. +</p> + +<p> +Then no more, just the tail-light, mockingly winking +its derision at Wenzel, ominously reminiscent of +blood—blood.... +</p> + +<p> +Fascinated, mentally stupefied, and partially mesmerized +by its malignant twinkle, Wenzel continued to +watch the red light, and wondered how soon it would +be before its circumference dwindled to a mere pin-prick, +thence to fade away as the train vanished round +the next curve. +</p> + +<p> +It was receding from him, but as yet he could still +see it plainly. He waited, and the minutes ticked by. +Still it was visible, also the glow of the engine fire on +the smoke. +</p> + +<p> +"It has gone?" There was a query in Apor's dull +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Not yet." +</p> + +<p> +"Not yet! But surely...!" Apor scrambled to +his feet. Then he turned to Wenzel. "My God! +Don't you see, Wenzel? It has stopped!" +</p> + +<p> +"Stopped!" So that was why he could still see +the wicked, red glare? "What does that mean, Apor? +Is there a station there?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not for another five miles." +</p> + +<p> +They stood, side by side, watching, and waiting +for the train to resume its journey, but presently they +noticed the clouds of smoke diminishing. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel stirred at last. "Apor, I am curious to +know why Szamuelly and his crew have stopped. How +far away do you imagine it to be?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is hard to say. Perhaps a mile, perhaps more." +</p> + +<p> +"Then guide me there. I am going to investigate." +</p> + +<p> +Twenty-five minutes' journey brought them to the +slope of the hill just above where the train stood. Now +it was necessary to move with caution, for the quiet +night intensified sounds. They could even hear the +sound of voices where the Terror Boys argued together. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel caught hold of Apor, as the Hungarian +would have continued to advance, and whispered in his +ear: "I will go on alone, Apor; there is light enough +from the train to guide me." +</p> + +<p> +The other man turned remonstratingly. "But, +Wenzel——" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel shook his head. "Waste no words, Apor. +I know full well what you would tell me. I understand +and sympathize. Yet you must curb your impatience. +If I should be recognized and escape no harm will be +done, but should you once be seen you could be of no +further use to me. One thing more before I go. If I +get killed Terhune will carry on my work. Give him +your allegiance, Apor, in the same spirit as you have +given it to me. You will?" +</p> + +<p> +Too moved for words the Hungarian held out his +hand. Wenzel gripped it tightly, and knew he need +have no doubt of his follower. Then he bent low and +crept away through the trees toward the train. +</p> + +<p> +He reached the fringe of the wood; before him the +Death Train snorted impatiently, radiating a brilliant +glow of light, and Wenzel was able to see for himself +the ghastly thing of which he had heard so much. +</p> + +<p> +It consisted all together of the four coaches; the first +two he noticed to be first-class saloon cars, the last two +ordinary third-class. This fact he noted in a sweeping +glance which embraced the whole of the train; then +he turned his inspection upon the two Pullman cars, and +as he noted one detail after another it seemed to him +that his eyes must be playing him a freakish trick. +</p> + +<p> +He blinked once or twice, but when he looked again +the picture remained unaltered, and slowly the realization +sank into his brain that what he saw was no fleeting +chimera, no fanciful dream, but stark, actual fact. +</p> + +<p> +He had travelled in <i>de luxe</i> Pullmans of pre-War +days, and considered them the acme of comfort, yet they +were cheerless and commonplace compared with the +coach which Szamuelly had adopted as his home, and +in which he now lived permanently, surrounded by his +guard of wicked Terrorists. +</p> + +<p> +All the regular furnishings of the car had been +stripped away; instead was substituted gorgeous +furniture, filched from the palaces of the King of +Hungary, or from the palatial town and country +residences of the magnates, from the castles of the +aristocrats, the <i>châteaux</i> of the ruling Magyars. +</p> + +<p> +The walls were hung with exquisite tapestry, worked +long ages ago, and depicting the glories of Hungary's +past, the heroic deeds of Losonczy at Tenescar, of +Szondi at Dregel, Zrinyi at Szigetvar, and vaguely +Wenzel wondered how each thread, worked by dainty +fingers, must have twisted in shame and disgust, as +it hung there and witnessed other deeds, black and +bloody, blotting the later pages of Hungary's chivalrous +history! +</p> + +<p> +Beautiful bevelled mirrors were displayed upon the +walls, and pure, deep glass glitteringly reflected the +fragile gilt Louis XVI furniture which stood everywhere, +its pink brocade dimly reminiscent of another +revolution, while lastly, in the centre of the first coach, +stood a delicate, feminine writing-table, its dainty +carving in harmony with the cushioned settle by its +side. +</p> + +<p> +To Wenzel, gazing into the lighted saloon from the +shadows of the wood, it was as though he might have +been peeping from the dark, overcast present into the +brightness of the past. Not one adornment in the saloon +but had survived many decades, not one piece which +could not have breathed the fame of Deak or Kossuth. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel wrenched his gaze away. What of the +third-class compartments by which the train earned +its ghastly title? Therein travelled the unfortunate +prisoners of the Terrorists, therein the walls and floors +were bare of any ornament other than the rusty stains +of dried blood which covered them—the blood of the +murdered. Well was it named the Death Train! +</p> + +<p> +There in the two end carriages countless executions +took place at the command of Szamuelly, who sat at +the fragile desk in the parlour-coach. At his word his +captives were butchered, and their bodies flung through +the windows, so that the railway tracks of Hungary +during the days of the Red Terror were littered with +naked corpses. +</p> + +<p> +With a shuddering gasp, which even he could not +altogether restrain, Wenzel turned his attention to +the Terrorists themselves, who strolled along the down +track, glad of the opportunity to stretch their legs. +</p> + +<p> +In a sense they were uniformed, not only in costume +but in face. Most of them wore Army service uniforms, +some with puttees, others wore their trousers loose, but +every one boasted the voluminous, heavy overcoat and +fatigue cap. It was their features where the similarity +was mostly to be glimpsed, not in actual likeness, but +in the same degenerate cast, in the same surly, lowering +glance, in the same cruel, tightened lips, and receding +forehead. +</p> + +<p> +Only one stood out conspicuously. Wenzel had a +good view of him as he stood still, right in a path of +light. He was a Jew, of small stature, dressed in black, +with leggings. He was different. His hair, crinkly, +curled, was not shaven to the scalp like the majority of +the others. His forehead was high, and apparently +intellectual, his eyes open and fearless. +</p> + +<p> +The lower part of his face was covered with a beard, +but it was carefully trimmed, and that, with his heavy +moustache, gave him a handsome appearance. Wenzel +would have believed him a prisoner of the brutes who +surrounded him, but, even as the White Knight was +watching, one of the Terrorists called to the Jew, and +the name he cried was "Kohn-Kerekes." +</p> + +<p> +Kohn-Kerekes! Szamuelly's favourite hangman! +The man who once had an argument with Gustav Nick, +a freed murderer and Terrorist, as to whether it were +possible to hang two or three men within the space of +five minutes! +</p> + +<p> +This, then, was the trainload of murderers who were +on their way to Bira to put down the counter-revolution. +Something seemed to tighten around Wenzel's heart +at the mere thought. Somehow he must delay them, +hold them back long enough for Arnold to get to Bira +and warn the rebels of Szamuelly's approach. Yet how? +</p> + +<p> +The engine was left unguarded, the engine-driver +and his mate having joined their fellow-Terrorists. +Wenzel's eyes flared with suggestion. He knew nothing +of engines, yet he felt confident that if he could but work +his will on the levers, the handles, and all the different +controls, he was bound to do some damage or other. +</p> + +<p> +He made up his mind to attempt the feat, but firstly +he realized that it would be necessary to cross the line +and approach the engine from the other side. As far +as he could see, all the Terrorists were on the down +track, some seated on the rails, some walking up and +down, so that, to judge from appearances, the farther +side was apparently unprotected. +</p> + +<p> +He slunk farther back into the shadows of the trees, +then took a direction which would bring him well to +the front of the train, assuming that there he would +be less likely to be seen, by reason of being behind the +light cast by the engine boiler-fire. +</p> + +<p> +When he had traversed the distance of a hundred +yards or so he considered that he had gone far enough, +and made his way toward the track again. Where the +trees finished to make way for the iron lines he paused, +ready for the crossing. +</p> + +<p> +He peered into the gloom on each side of him, and +listened acutely for any suggestion of an approaching +Terrorist; but everything was calm and peaceful. +</p> + +<p> +Doubling his tall bulk he moved cautiously forward, +and without a sound crossed the track into the belt of +wood the other side, and once there made his way back +again toward the train. +</p> + +<p> +It was as he had suspected: all the men were congregated +on one side of the train, leaving the approach +on the other absolutely clear, though how long such a +state of things was likely to continue he did not know. +He realized that he must work at once or perhaps fail +to have another opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +Poised ready for instant flight in the event of +discovery he advanced toward the train, step by step, and +at each stride his eyes flickered from side to side for +any sign of interruption. +</p> + +<p> +On the other side of the coaches he heard the chatter +of their tongues and the crunching movement of their +feet as the Terrorists walked to and fro. By peering low +between the carriage wheels he could even see some of +them, and knew that, contrariwise, if one of them should +chance to look his way, discovery would be inevitable, +and all chance gone of delaying the Death Train. +</p> + +<p> +In a man's way he prayed that he might reach his +destination. As he advanced and nothing happened he +began to believe that Fortune was playing into his hands. +At last! The steps to the driver's platform were before +him. He swung himself on to the engine with a lithe +movement, but even as he did so, a flashing glance +toward the end of the train made him aware that the +driver and the fireman were slowly strolling back to +their allotted places. +</p> + +<p> +He could not retreat, for now he was cut off. He +could not go forward, for the dozens of Terrorists on +the down track. Swiftly he glanced around, for hide +himself he must. There was only one possible place: +on top of a coach. +</p> + +<p> +He clambered silently up the tender, and then, +trusting to luck that he would not be seen, hoisted +himself on to the roof of the first coach, and on his +stomach wormed his way along. He was only just in +time, for even as he reached the shadows he saw the +driver and his assistant mount the engine platform. +</p> + +<p> +Despite the precariousness of his situation he could +not help appreciating the humour of it. Undoubtedly, +of the many predicaments in which he had found himself +from time to time since his adoption of the role +of White Knight, the present one was the most curious +and unusual. +</p> + +<p> +By lifting his head slightly he could see the Terrorists +below; so visible were they to him, indeed, that +he felt sure that he himself must naturally be equally +outstanding to anyone who should chance to look up, +until he reflected that he was above the radius of the +light. +</p> + +<p> +Their voices rose clearly to him, and concentrating +on one couple, who seemed either to be nearer than the +others or talking more loudly, he was able to hear their +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +"Three-quarters of an hour we have been here. +Why don't we get on instead of hanging about?" said one. +</p> + +<p> +"Obviously Szamuelly wants to get to Bira just after +daybreak so that he can catch the White Revolution +in the act." +</p> + +<p> +The questioner spat on the ground. "Good enough, +comrade; but as we are here why not let us go right +ahead? A man hangs as well in the dark. Alternatively, +we might as well have slept in Budapest. There are at +least women there." +</p> + +<p> +"Use your brains, Kerner. If we should arrive in +Bira too early every one would be asleep, and if they +should wake up to see us standing in the station they +would speedily forget to be White and would don their +Red cockade again. Every one would be innocent, and +there would be no one to hang." The speaker laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, and could we not have stopped in Buda, +and have left there in time to arrive in Bira soon after +daybreak?" +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps Szamuelly thought we should not be too +willing to get up." +</p> + +<p> +"Huh!" The first man grunted. "Maybe he was +right. Once I tumble into bed I prefer to stick there." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel did not listen any more—he had heard +sufficient. What need to draw attention to an enemy +in their midst by tampering with the engine when, if +the Terrorists below were to be believed, Szamuelly +was of his own accord delaying the train? He could +trust Arnold to do his work well. When Szamuelly +arrived he would find no one upon whom to wreak his +sanguinary vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +There remained nothing else for him to do but to +make his escape from the present situation as quickly +as possible. Unfortunately he could not return as he +had come, the engine-driver effectively barred the way, +but he believed that he might creep along to the edge +of the coach, and slip down the space in between it and +the next one. +</p> + +<p> +Still lying flat on his stomach, he moved gradually +away from the engine and nearer to his way of escape, +but as he looked around he began to realize that, just +as a rat confidently enters the inviting trap, only to +find his exit barred, so was he too in a somewhat +similar position. +</p> + +<p> +The Terror Boys were restless. Groups of them sauntered +in every direction, many of them now encircled the +train in a regular promenade, and the White Knight, +as he felt the cold penetrating through his clothes, did +not need to conjecture the reason for their movements. +</p> + +<p> +With the utmost care he wriggled into a position +from where, at the first favourable opportunity, he +would be able to slip down to the ground and scuttle +back into the wooded slopes again, and waited. +</p> + +<p> +The minutes ticked by—minutes which began to +total into respectable fractions of an hour—but still +many of the Terror Boys kept up their unceasing tour. +Round and round they marched till the blood glowed +as redly as possible in their wan and dissolute faces, +and in the meantime the White Knight became more +and more chilled. +</p> + +<p> +He longed to move, to circulate his freezing blood—to +do, in fact, what his enemies themselves were doing—but +it seemed that Fate, having once permitted him +to board the train, was set on keeping him there, +irresponsibly transferring her favour to the other side; +coquettishly flirting, now with him, the next moment +conspiring against him. +</p> + +<p> +Once there was a lull. For some reason the Communists +suddenly assembled together in argument, and +as the group swelled, so one side of the train was left +to itself. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel tensed himself for his escape, but even as +he drew himself to the edge, preparatory to clambering +down to the buffers, the engine-driver alighted and +walked along, swinging his arms as he moved. By +the time the man was warm again the promenade had +recommenced and Wenzel's opportunity had gone. +</p> + +<p> +Later the Terrorists began to climb back into the +train, and Wenzel's eyes glistened with anticipation; +but his hopes were very quickly shattered. Szamuelly, +with the cunning of a serpent, set two guards, one on +each side of the train. +</p> + +<p> +So the night passed. Despite everything, his watch +and his discomfort, Wenzel fell into a fitful slumber—not +sleep in the actual sense of the word, but a restless +jerky doze from which he forced himself to awake every +few minutes until his head ached with the effort. +</p> + +<p> +Without warning there was a grinding jerk. Wenzel +opened his eyes with a start. The train was moving; +with a sense of dismay he realized that eventually he +must have given way and actually slept. Now it was +too late to escape—he was being carried with the Death +Train to Bira. +</p> + +<p> +The engine gathered speed and, with its added +velocity, rocked unsteadily from side to side. Then for +Wenzel began a nightmare of inconceivable hideousness. +He gripped hold of something—he never knew +what—and held to it with a tenacity which presently +became subconscious, but even so his body was turned, +rolled, and banged on the sloping roof. +</p> + +<p> +The billowing clouds of smoke blew into his face +until his throat and nose were filled with cinders, and +he felt sick from the taste of the acrid fumes. Somehow +he repressed the burst of coughing which threatened +to seize him every second, but to do so he had to fill +his body with deep breaths which served to suck in +still further supplies of the smoke. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately there was enough wind from the east +to keep the smoke sufficiently away to enable him to +retain consciousness, but in doing so its scurrying rush +deadened his senses and numbed his limbs and bones. +</p> + +<p> +Time ceased to be of consequence, he knew only +that he must hold tight if he wished to retain his life. +So, somehow, his fingers continued to grip, even when +his consciousness practically vanished. +</p> + +<p> +The train pounded on, but except for a sensation of +unreality he was totally unaware of what else was +happening. From head to foot his body ached and pained. +Bruised all over from the buffeting of the train, frozen +by the cold, deafened by the shrieking of the wind, +blinded by the smoke-dust, he believed then that Hades +itself could not contain more suffering, and he groaned +slightly with the torture. +</p> + +<p> +At last it was over. He felt the train slowing down, +and released one hand to free his eyes from their +covering of grime and dirt. During the journey the day had +dawned, and in the misty half-light he saw the name +of Bira written on the railway embankment in small, +white stones, and in the distance the station. +</p> + +<p> +He knew that there was no time to be lost, so gathering +up what strength there was still left in his limbs he +climbed down to the buffers. Quietly and ominously +the train slid into the station and quiveringly halted; +the next moment Wenzel jumped to the ground, +crossed the lines, and was out of the station. +</p> + +<p> +He dimly expected a hail, if not from the train, then +perhaps from the station, but he had not been noticed. +He breathed softly with relief, and looked round. +</p> + +<p> +There was an ominous, brooding silence, and over +the neighbourhood in which he was there seemed to +hang a pall of oppression and apprehension. It was +whispered by the wind which sighed sullenly through +the telegraph wires; it was told by the Red flags hung +out at intervals, which flapped angrily with staccato +reports; it was suggested by the tightly shut windows +and doors. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel's face broke into a smile of gratification. +Evidently Arnold had done his work well. Not only +was there no one about, but so quickly had Bira turned +Red again at the news of the approach of Szamuelly +that nowhere could Wenzel catch a glimpse of white. +There was no work for Szamuelly's butcher hangmen +in Bira. +</p> + +<p> +All this he noted in a quick, fleeting glance, for a +backward look at the train revealed to him that its +travellers were tumbling out in pell-mell haste. Wenzel +knew that he must hide quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Before the front of the station was a wide square. +He knew if he doubled across it he might be seen. +Obviously it would be better to hide on the station +roof. He looked up and noted that the stone coping +formed a convenient ladder upward. A few seconds +later he was securely hidden, watching the movements +of the Terrorists below. +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly, carefully guarded by four or five men, +each of whom flourished a serviceable revolver, sauntered +toward the station, to halt scarcely a yard or so from +where Wenzel was hidden. +</p> + +<p> +In quick, precise tones Szamuelly gave his orders, +and small parties of his men dispersed to different +parts of the town. In the meantime, while he waited +for their return, Szamuelly smoked a cigarette and +jested with his own special guard. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, comrades, ready for your work, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +One man grunted. "Everything looks strange. +Where is the White counter-revolution which we have +come to suppress, may I ask? There are Red flags by +the plenty, but I see no signs of the White cockade." +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly laughed grimly. "The revolutionaries +are skulking away. We will drag the rats from their +holes. When they stand before me, waiting for my +verdict, we shall soon see by their faces whether they +are loyalists or not. We will let go free all whose +faces go red—eh, friends?—and string up those who +go white at the sound of their sentence. Will that not +be judgment worthy of Solomon himself?" +</p> + +<p> +Then the conversation drifted into more personal +channels. There was a woman in Budapest whom one +had seduced, and the tale was well worth the telling. +As the story progressed the laughter of the listeners +became incessant. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the Terror Boys returned, group by group. +</p> + +<p> +"Where are the prisoners?" Szamuelly asked, and +his voice grew harsher as he heard the same answer +from all quarters: +</p> + +<p> +"There has been a mistake, comrade. Bira is Red. +There is no counter-revolutionary movement here. The +Red flag flies everywhere." +</p> + +<p> +"Fools, dolts, idiots! Do you think we have come +all this way to go back again like a lot of lost sheep? If +we cannot track out the revolutionaries themselves then +we must find their supporters with whom to set an +example. When I leave here Bira will hesitate to tear the +Red flag down again. Go on, boys, fetch them out." +</p> + +<p> +Then followed a ghastly scene, which Wenzel viewed +with indescribable horror. Filled with enthusiasm, the +Terror Boys crossed the station square and burst into +surrounding houses. Presently the air was filled with +the sounds of struggle; here and there the reverberating +echo of shots intermingled with the wailing of women, +the pleading of children. Half dressed, unkempt, and +dishevelled, the victims of the Terror Boys were hustled +across the square to the station, where they were lined +up before Szamuelly. +</p> + +<p> +"Ho, you!" Szamuelly strode up to one of the +prisoners. "So you are one of the scum who saw fit +to try and overthrow our glorious cause, are you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, comrade, I swear I am not. I am a +loyal Communist. For God's sake, do not hang me! +My wife—she is giving birth to a child, even at +this minute. Mercy, mercy, for the love of Christ! +Mercy!" +</p> + +<p> +The trembling wretch sank on his knees, the tears +ran down his cheeks. Szamuelly laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"Is his face red or white, comrades?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a roar of laughter from his followers, +and the verdict was unanimous: "White, Comrade +Szamuelly, white!" +</p> + +<p> +"Then he hangs. Throw a rope over that tree +yonder." +</p> + +<p> +Willing hands were found to obey the injunction. +In less than a minute a rope was thrown over a lower +branch, a running loop formed, and underneath it a +chair was placed. +</p> + +<p> +To it the victim was dragged and forced up upon +the chair. The loop was adjusted round his neck. +Everything ready, Szamuelly crossed and stood in +front of the man. He took the cigarette from his +mouth, and suddenly placed its lighted end upon the +hapless victim's bare foot. The poor wretch howled +with pain, kicked backward, the chair fell over, and +the loop tightened.... +</p> + +<p> +There were seven other trees near by, and in less than +twenty minutes at every tree twisted and swayed a lifeless +body at the end of a rope. After that Szamuelly was +satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +"Come along, comrades. Do you think Bira will +go White again?" +</p> + +<p> +A hoarse growl of laughter arose. "Not if they are +wise." +</p> + +<p> +So the Death Train steamed back to Budapest. Its +work was done. Bira would not go White again. +Innocent or guilty, eight victims hung warningly in +the station square. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel—as his body had been chilled with cold the +night before, so now his heart and his emotions were +frozen. He could not think coherently. Civilization! +What progress had it made in the hearts of these +people? They were more savage than the Turks their +forefathers had driven across the frontier centuries +before. +</p> + +<p> +There was but one thought dominant in Wenzel's +mind then. After Gonnard, Szamuelly; after +Gonnard, known murderer of two good Hungarian men. +Szamuelly, the murderer of hundreds! +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly must die! Of the chaotic thoughts which +obsessed Wenzel that was the one dominant factor. +Szamuelly must die! +</p> + +<p> +The Death Train disappeared in the distance, and +Wenzel watched it with eyes which gleamed with an +unbridled fury of hatred. Even the death of Elizabeth's +cousin was as nothing compared with this crime, but +there was his word—the word of the White Knight—given +to Elizabeth. Yet afterward... Szamuelly +must die! +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER X</i> +</h2> + +<p> +Thirty-three miles away from Budapest +is Aszod. +</p> + +<p> +This town was almost as much a centre of +Communism as Budapest; its people took kindly to the +doctrine of upheaval, and so they hoisted a huge Red +flag, which flapped in the wind from above the reformatory, +while a similar flag above the station advertised +the politics of the town. +</p> + +<p> +In the days which followed Wenzel's unexpected +trip to Bira, Szamuelly put down the railwaymen's +strike by the aid of a firm and bloody hand. With a +sullen, menacing growl they resumed work, but if to +all outward appearances they quickly forgot their new +woes, a dull resentment against a self-elected autocracy +smouldered in their hearts, ready to blaze whenever +the train to the torch of real freedom might be lit, +a sentiment not shared by the huge crowd which, +thronging the arrival platform, awaited the train +from Budapest which bore among its passengers a +commissary, come to address the people of Aszod. +</p> + +<p> +As the commissary in question opened the carriage +door he was greeted by flourished handkerchiefs and a +rousing storm of cheers. It was Comrade Gonnard. +</p> + +<p> +Short, fat, with an adipose face, an unshaven chin, the +ribbons, floating around his neck, of an enormous Red +cockade set in the lapel of his coat, he was typical of +the Communists who governed the country. +</p> + +<p> +His grossness was no less pronounced than was +the evidence of low mentality and criminal tendencies, +betrayed by a receding chin, a shelving, narrow +forehead, and close, deep-set eyes; but this meant nothing +to the crowds who flocked to welcome him, to listen to +his bombastic eulogy, his crazy ranting. +</p> + +<p> +The cheering having died down, he raised his hand, +and obtained immediate silence. Striking a flamboyant +attitude, he commenced his speech. +</p> + +<p> +"Comrades," he bellowed, "fellow-proletarians, I +am here to-day on behalf of the People's Council, to +give you news of our satisfactory progress, to give you +an outline of our future programme. +</p> + +<p> +"'A short time back our worthy comrade, Bela Kun, +on behalf of the Hungarian Soviet Republic, got into +wireless communication with Comrade Lenin, of the +Russian Soviet, and sent the following message to +him: +</p> + +<p> +"'Last night the Hungarian Proletariat seized all +powers, established the Dictatorship of the Proletariat, +and greets you as leader of the International Proletariat. +</p> + +<p> +"'The Social Democratic Party has adopted the +Communist point of view; the two parties have united. +We have named ourselves the Hungarian Socialist +Party. We ask for instructions in this matter. Bela +Kun is Commissary for Foreign Affairs. The +Hungarian Soviet offers the Russian Soviet a defensive +and offensive alliance. Fully armed, we turn against +all enemies of the Proletariat, and ask for information +concerning the military situation.'" +</p> + +<p> +There was an outburst of cheering, to which Gonnard +smiled and smirked his acknowledgment. Presently, +when there was silence once again, he continued: +</p> + +<p> +"Comrades, to this historical message of love and +goodwill to all fellow-proletarians there came a reply, +dictated by Lenin himself, who spoke as follows: +</p> + +<p> +"'Lenin speaking. Hearty greetings to the +Hungarian Soviet's Proletarian Government, in particular +to Comrade Bela Kun. I have just communicated +your message to the Congress of the Communist Party +of Bolshevik Russia. Enormous enthusiasm; we will +send a report on the military situation as soon as +possible. A permanent wireless communication between +Budapest and Moscow is absolutely necessary. With +Communistic greetings, Lenin.'" +</p> + +<p> +The cheering with which the speaker's first message +had been met was entirely eclipsed by the terrific roar +which went up as he read out Lenin's reply. Hats were +thrown into the air, Red flags were waved frantically, +and in the madness which ensued there was scarcely +one present who realized the shame of it; the dishonour +of the Hungarians, descendants of the fiercest fighters, +of the proudest aristocracy in Europe, appealing to a +foreign Government for instructions. +</p> + +<p> +So insidiously can propaganda work, the propaganda +which had been secretly distributed in the Army, in +the Navy, and throughout the workshops of Hungary +for the past few months. The cankerous root is not +more harmful to the animal body, the death-watch +beetle does not rot the heart of wood so quickly, as +the propaganda of the gospel of Bolshevism putrefies +the common sense and saps the morality of a working +people. +</p> + +<p> +"Comrades," shouted Gonnard once again, "well +may you cheer at such excellent news—Russia and +Hungary hand in hand. Together we will spread the +seed of Communism. Already England is ripe to hail +the Red banner, and German workmen are more than +willing to throw off the shackles of their capitalist +taskmasters. France but awaits the word, Italy seethes +with discontent. The workmen of the world await the +hour with eagerness, and will soon follow the glorious +example of Hungary by throwing off the heavy mantle +laid upon them by the <i>bourgeoisie</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"Comrades, it is but a matter of time," he boasted. +"There is nothing, now, to stand in the way of +Proletarianism and the Commune." +</p> + +<p> +From somewhere in the crowd a voice interrupted: +</p> + +<p> +"What about the Enemy of the Commune? What +about the White Knight?" +</p> + +<p> +There was silence, broken by a sudden growl from +the crowd. "Yes, what about the White Knight?" +cried one. "What is the People's Council going to do +about the Enemy of the Commune?" shouted another. +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard, bewildered and perplexed by this sudden +turn to his oratory, gazed stupidly at the crowd, and +gave no reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Speak louder. I cannot hear!" called some one +waggishly, and there was a hoarse roar of laughter. +</p> + +<p> +"But I don't understand," Gonnard spluttered. +"What do you mean?—what are you talking about?—the +Enemy of the Commune?—the White Knight?—I +don't understand!" +</p> + +<p> +"You are a fine People's Commissary! Never heard +of the Enemy of the Commune? Ho! there's a fine +comrade for you!" again some one from the crowd +called out. +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard flushed a dull red. "Well, then," he cried +out angrily, "supposing you tell me." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll tell you," called out the same voice again. +"There's a man in Aszod who calls himself the White +Knight, the Enemy of the Commune, who has vowed +the downfall of the Soviet, and the death of all the +proletariat who stand in his way." +</p> + +<p> +"Bah!" answered Gonnard, "the <i>bourgeois</i>—are +you then frightened of a <i>bourgeois</i>, comrades?" +</p> + +<p> +There was dead silence again. Gonnard laughed +harshly. "Cowards!" he cried, "cowards, all of you! +Frightened by some half-witted <i>bourgeois</i> who calls +himself by a strange name." He sneered, palpably. +</p> + +<p> +"Ho, then, Comrade Gonnard," interrupted the +same voice again, "can you explain the death of +Comrade Fejer and Comrade Pauler? You may be +the next, my friend—or me." +</p> + +<p> +The blood drained away from Gonnard's face. Evidently +this suggestion had not yet occurred to him, but +as the force of the man's remarks struck him he twisted +his head nervously from side to side, perhaps already +anticipating the death which he so richly deserved. +</p> + +<p> +There was a taunting cry from several in the mob +who observed this fact. "Look," cried one or two, +"our People's Commissary turns white about the +gills!" +</p> + +<p> +As the jeer sank home Gonnard heaved his heavy +form more upright. "Afraid, am I?" he shouted +nastily. "Well, then, if that's the case, I'll just show +you how far you are wrong. If any of you before me +knows of this so-called Enemy of the Commune you +can tell him from me that in less than a week I'll string +him up on the nearest tree I can find!" +</p> + +<p> +At his words there was a dramatic interruption. +</p> + +<p> +From one of the houses which overlooked the station +there was a hearty roar of laughter, and then to the ears +of Gonnard and the crowd which surrounded him came +the echo of a mocking voice. +</p> + +<p> +"I accept your challenge, Comrade Gonnard. But +it is you who will swing, not I!" +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Comrade Gonnard, as befitted a People's Commissary +and a representative of the Workers' Council, took up +his headquarters at the <i>château</i> of Baron Szechenyi. +</p> + +<p> +No formality about this. He, together with local +commissaries, merely marched up to the <i>château</i>, seized +it in the name of the Soviet Government, and informed +the Baroness that henceforward she and her family +would have to be content with three rooms. The rest +of the house was then thrown open to the proletariat, +and before nightfall the <i>château</i> was filled with the scum +of Aszod. +</p> + +<p> +Before the next day had passed the whole place was +turned upside down, while everything of value had +disappeared, confiscated by any who cared to help +themselves, for was not the meaning of the Commune that +anything possessed by one belonged to all? "What is +yours is mine, what is mine is mine own," might have +been the motto of the Communist; +or—abbreviated—"Thine—mine." +</p> + +<p> +Notwithstanding his doctrine, Gonnard took care +that the finest room in the house should be allocated +to himself, and, once settled down, he awaited the local +detective whom he had immediately put on the track +of the mysterious White Knight who had so publicly +and audaciously taken up his challenge. +</p> + +<p> +Not at once had the crowd moved when the White +Knight announced himself. They were stupefied with +astonishment, and it was not until Gonnard, in a +paroxysm of temper, thrashed his arms about and +ordered his audience to chase the man that anyone +moved. +</p> + +<p> +When at last a movement rippled through the crowd +there ensued a scene of confusion. +</p> + +<p> +"Which house?" "Where?" "What was he +like?" were questions answered by "This house," +"That house," "The one over in the corner," nearly +every house being mentioned in turn. Confused, the +mob sheepishly turned from side to side; while all +the time Gonnard profanely swore at them to chase +the interrupter, but no one moved until a young fellow +at the back led the way. +</p> + +<p> +Three or four houses in turn were entered, searched, +and secretly looted, but there was no trace of the Enemy, +who had long since made himself scarce. As to his +description, so many had positively seen him and were +able to give reliable information that, collectively, he +might have been anything from a red-headed dwarf to +a fiery-eyed, black-bearded giant. +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard's anger over, fear stepped into its place, +and, scarcely giving the people time to report their +failure, he summoned detectives and ordered them to +hunt down the "criminal" who had dared defy a +People's Commissary, even though he were an +ex-convict, released when Bela Kun opened wide the +prison gates to enrol recruits as Red adherents. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening came Gunzi. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," snapped Gonnard, "what news?" +</p> + +<p> +The detective shrugged his shoulders. "None." +</p> + +<p> +"None!" exploded the Commissary. "The Devil +take it, what are you men here for? No wonder the +<i>bourgeoisie</i> still walk around, unchecked. I thought +Aszod was loyal to the Commune. Are you all fools?" +</p> + +<p> +The other man flushed. "Hold hard, comrade. +Don't be too easy with your words. 'Tis not so long +ago that you yourself were on the wrong side of cell +bars at Budapest. I do not forget faces quite so easily. +You had another name then. Let me see. It was for +desertion, and robbery with violence. You, my friend, +have reason to be thankful that the people are in power, +and not the aristocracy." +</p> + +<p> +There was an awkward silence. Gonnard had not +realized that he might be recognized, though actually +this could make little difference to his position. He was +only one among many. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry, friend, if I spoke hastily," he mumbled +presently. "Now tell me more of this White Knight. +What is he? Who is he?" +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi laughed. "The Devil himself, it would seem. +The first we heard of him here in Aszod was about a +week ago. One morning we found, pasted over the +official posters of the Soviet Government, slips of paper +bearing the words: 'Proletarians, beware. Nemesis is +on your track. The White Knight. An Enemy of the +Commune.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Nemesis! Who is he? That's not a Hungarian +name," said Gonnard. +</p> + +<p> +"I knew not, till I asked the schoolmaster, who +roared with laughter when I asked him." The +detective's eyes narrowed. "He is a <i>bourgeois</i>, that +schoolmaster. Him I will soon put into prison." +</p> + +<p> +"But Nemesis?" prompted Gonnard. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes, Nemesis. He told me Nemesis was a +daughter of Nyx, a person who metes out punishment +to the unjust. Bah! They think to get the better of +good proletarians with their long words and foreign +names. Wait until I get my hands upon this woman, +Nemesis, or the White Knight either." +</p> + +<p> +"What about Fejer and Pauler?" +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi pursed his lips. "Ask me not, Gonnard. All +I know is that they were both found dead, and each had +in one of his pockets—a white knight!" +</p> + +<p> +His sibilant voice lowered itself toward the finish of +the sentence, and Gonnard shivered. "It is you who +will hang, not I." Again in his ears rang the confident +challenge hurled at him across the heads of the populace. +Supposing he failed in his boast, and, worse, supposing +the Enemy of the Commune were successful! ... +</p> + +<p> +Involuntarily his hand flew to his throat and he +loosened his shirt collar. It was rather too tight to +be pleasant. Gunzi's mouth slowly widened into a +grin. +</p> + +<p> +There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" cried +Gonnard, and there entered a small boy of about eleven +years of age, dressed in clothes far too large for him, +which, judging from the cut and the material, had been +filched from one of the <i>bourgeois</i> residences. +</p> + +<p> +"A letter for you, comrade," announced the newcomer, +his remark punctuated by an oath. The gamins +of Hungary spent a royal time during the Commune. +Released by order of the Soviet from all authority +whatsoever, of their parents or of their school-teachers, they +revelled in their freedom and made the most of their +opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard glared at the boy. "What do you mean, +son? A letter for me? Where from?" +</p> + +<p> +The messenger grinned. "Don't get excited, +comrade. It's not from a lady. I was walking down the +Palyaudvar-utcza when a man came up to me and asked +me if I would like to earn ten crowns. 'Make it twenty +crowns,' I said to him, 'and I'm your man.' 'All +right,' he growled. 'See, here's a letter. Take it up to +Comrade Gonnard, who is living in the <i>château</i> of Baron +Szechenyi. He will be pleased to get it.' Then he +gave me this letter, and I immediately brought it along. +Give me a crown, comrade, and you can have it." +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard scowled. "Son of a pig, hand it over." He +half rose from his seat, and the boy quickly tossed +it on to the table in front of him. +</p> + +<p> +Clutching the envelope Gonnard slit it open with +his dirty thumb, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. +This he opened, and then, as he read, choked with +fury. +</p> + +<p> +"My God," he called out hoarsely to the detective, +"read this!" With a livid face he held it out to Gunzi, +who perused it, his forehead lifting slightly in his +surprise: +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Within a week you will hang, Comrade Gonnard, and so +the death of two honest Hungarian officers will be avenged. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +THE WHITE KNIGHT +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +While Gunzi reread the message, studying the +handwriting, searching for the watermark of the paper, or +any other clue which might ultimately lead to the +disclosure of the mysterious White Knight, Gonnard cast +back his memory in retrospection. +</p> + +<p> +It was one night some months before. Budapest +lay covered in a white mantle of snow, which happily +concealed the garbage and rubbish littering the streets. +He and two other Communists were straggling home. +Fortunately the streets were empty; people were afraid +to wander much those nights, for parties of ex-Russian +prisoners and numbers of ex-soldiers, disbanded but +not disarmed, roamed the countryside, shooting and +pillaging, even daring to enter the towns. +</p> + +<p> +The three Communists wandered on, hazy with drink, +their revolvers spitting fire, which, in lieu of finding +human billets, broke lamp after lamp, window after +window. +</p> + +<p> +They had nearly reached their quarter when round +the corner strode two officers of the demobilized +Hungarian Army, their uniforms still glistening with +the emblem of the royal crown. +</p> + +<p> +The sight maddened the Communists, for the +majority of ex-soldiers, who for four years had, day in +and day out, pluckily withstood the forces of invading +hordes, who, indeed, had fought for this very emblem, +now would tremblingly hack it off at the command of a +few of their own countrymen. +</p> + +<p> +Lining up, they stopped the two officers, and +hoarsely ordered them to strip, their revolvers pointing +with unpleasant directness at the stomachs of the +two men. +</p> + +<p> +With a haughty motion of the chin the elder of the +two, disdaining the drunken men, stepped forward, +and would have passed, but Gonnard's pistol flashed, +and a crumpled body slumped to the ground, where it +was quickly accompanied by the corpse of the second +officer. Thus died two who escaped the bayonets of +Hungary's enemies to die of the bullets of Hungary's +men—the red of their blood gradually dyed the pure +white of the snow—the insignia of the Crown blemished +by the symbol of Communism. +</p> + +<p> +Like a wraith he saw again the haughty officer +falling—falling toward him; the accusing eyes +approaching nearer, the outstretched hands grasping for +his throat.... +</p> + +<p> +He called out chokingly, and the ghost dissolved +into the smoke of a cigarette which the placid urchin +of the streets blew out of his mouth in thick clouds. +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard's dazed glance wandered from side to side—from +the face of the grinning messenger to the puzzled +countenance of the detective. How came this spectre +from the past? How knew the White Knight that he +was the murderer? +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" asked Gunzi inquiringly. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing—nothing," muttered Gonnard. "I want +to know about that note." +</p> + +<p> +The detective turned it over and over in his fingers. +"No clue of any kind." He turned to the boy. "What +was the man like who gave you this? Can you describe +him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, of course," answered the urchin, and Gonnard +and Gunzi leaned forward, a gleam of hope lighting +up their faces. "He was tall, though not too tall, say +about—about as high as my father, who is bigger than +either of you, comrades. His eyes were a greeny blue, +or perhaps brown, I forget now. His hair was a darkish +brown, nearly black in parts, and he was dressed as +you, not quite so well as I." +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard groaned. The explanation might fit anyone +in the world. "Get out!" he shouted. The boy +turned tail and ran, wondering what had happened. +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi grinned. "Not of very much assistance, +comrade. Apparently the Devil is not as conspicuous +as I had believed." +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard turned upon the detective with an ugly +snarl. "Cease your prattling, Gunzi. This is no +laughing matter." His eyes narrowed into mere slits, +and he leaned forward in the other's direction, gazing +fiercely at him. "Listen, my friend. It is written that +the past is past. I am a People's Commissary now, and +have the ear of Bela Kun. It will be a bad day for you, +Gunzi, if by next week you have not laid this cursed +<i>bourgeois</i> by the heels. This day week some one is going +to hang, and if it is not the White Knight—comrade, +you have a nice soft neck. It would be a pity to see its +tender skin black and blue, rasped and bruised by a +rope. Do you think it within the bounds of possibility +that you might bring this dog to me—soon?" +</p> + +<p> +His bombast did not worry the rat-faced Gunzi. +He shrugged his shoulders. "To-day week should +be an interesting one. Yet it will not be I who will +hang—and it might not be the White Knight, friend." +</p> + +<p> +With that he strolled from the room and left the +ex-convict and murderer alone with his thoughts. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER XI</i> +</h2> + +<p> +Comrade Gonnard spent an unpleasant +night. At supper he both dined and wined in +unwise manner, so that no sooner had he +laid his head upon the pillow than he became conscious +of the fact. Whatever his feelings awake, they were +mild compared to the succession of nightmares which +visited him asleep. It was an ill-tempered and uneasy +comrade who arose at a late hour next morning. +</p> + +<p> +He drank his coffee with a gulp, and opened his +newspaper. There was a note pinned to the front page: +</p> + +<p> + Still six days, Comrade Gonnard.<br> + THE WHITE KNIGHT<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +His face whitened to a chalky pallor; he gazed at +the warning with dilated eyes. +</p> + +<p> +For the rest of the day his mind dwelt upon matters +which were of anything but a pleasant nature. At every +step he winced perceptibly and kept an uneasy eye upon +the door and the window. Though he had been warned +that there were still six more days for him to live, he +was convinced in his own mind that the White Knight +was bluffing, that the blow might be struck at any +moment. +</p> + +<p> +The day passed, and, despite his experience of the +night before, Gonnard again indulged in a heavy meal. +The consequence was that his dreams were even worse; +his fears, in conjunction with his groaning stomach, +wreaked havoc with his inner consciousness. As the +night passed, the vision of the White Knight appeared +more frequently, and in different guises, each one of +which was more terrible than the last. When he was +awakened by the welcome sunlight, which came streaming +in through a crack in the shutters, he found himself +in a sweat which poured off his forehead and down his +body. +</p> + +<p> +A newspaper, brought in to him with his breakfast +by a friendly Communist, lay on the table alongside +his coffee. With trembling fingers he unfolded it, and +gasped with relief to find that this time its creases hid +no terrifying message. He almost enjoyed his breakfast. +</p> + +<p> +Then arrived the post. There was a letter for him; +the writing was feminine; there was a faint, lingering +suspicion of perfume. A letter to him from a woman! +His eyes glistened with anticipation. He inserted his +bulgy forefinger and hastily slit open the envelope. +</p> + +<p> +It was no <i>billet-doux</i>; only once again the fatal +warning: +</p> + +<p> + Five days more, Comrade Gonnard.<br> + THE WHITE KNIGHT<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +The words faded away in the misty film which +covered his eyes, and his shaking fingers dropped the +letter so that it fluttered to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +The days passed. Each morning he received another +revised message—by telegram, by telephone, once again +by the post, and then, on the last day, by Gunzi. +</p> + +<p> +The detective looked tired and haggard. For six +days he had scarcely slept; clue after clue he had +followed in vain. The White Knight was more elusive +than the <i>fata Morgana</i>. +</p> + +<p> +When he saw Gonnard he stopped short in surprise +and swore, and Gonnard, seeing him, clutched his arm +frantically: +</p> + +<p> +"You have found him, Gunzi?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +The word was like a death-knell; Gonnard sank +back into a chair, shaking in every limb, and Gunzi +eyed him scornfully. He had not seen the commissary +for five days, but in that time the once gross and fleshy +Communist had shrunk till the skin hung from him +in pouches. +</p> + +<p> +His flickering, restless eyes unceasingly switched +from one direction to another, his drumming fingers +everlastingly beat a tattoo upon the object nearest to +them. His clothes positively hung from him and were +buttoned only here and there; his boots were not even +laced. +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi stared at the wreck of a man and could scarcely +believe him to be the same as the bombastic +commissary who had arrived the week before to teach the +people of Aszod the benefits of the Commune. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, God! Oh, God!" Gonnard whispered. "Gunzi, +you must find him or he will kill me. His messages +haunt me wherever I go. I have not dared to go out +for the last three days lest I should be stabbed, or shot +in the back, or crushed by a passing automobile." His +voice rose to a shriek. "For God's sake, Gunzi, tell +me you know where the White Knight is hiding, that +you will arrest him to-day, at once, and save my life! +You do know where he is, don't you?" +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi turned away: "No, comrade, I do not." +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard gazed at him incredulously, his head +unconsciously wagging from side to side. "You don't? +But ... but you are ... are a detective." +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi shrugged his shoulders. "Nevertheless, +friend, I have searched Aszod from end to end, I who +know it so well, but I have not traced the White Knight. +There is not a building I have not visited, not a single +source of supply which I have not tapped, yet in vain. +How can I describe him? No one knows what he is +like." +</p> + +<p> +"The telegram he sent me! I forwarded it on to you." +</p> + +<p> +"I got some sort of description—enough, in fact, +for me to track the sender." +</p> + +<p> +"What!" Gonnard sat up. At the sudden suggestion +of a possible success on Gunzi's part a remnant +of his courage returned, and hope gleamed from his +eyes. "You have tracked him? You arrested him?" +</p> + +<p> +The detective smiled grimly. "Of course I did. +He is in prison now." +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard looked bewildered. "Then ... why... +Surely I ... I am safe...." +</p> + +<p> +"You jump to conclusions too hastily. The sender +of the telegram was not the White Knight, friend. He +was paid by the White Knight to send the telegram to +you." +</p> + +<p> +"Then ... then he must have seen the White Knight?" +</p> + +<p> +"'Tall, though not very tall, about so high, perhaps +a trifle bigger. His eyes were brown, or blue, they +might have been either. His hair was inclined to blond, +and he was dressed like any other man.' That was his +description!" Gunzi jeered. "I left him in prison. The +change may improve his memory. In the meantime +I have a message for you." +</p> + +<p> +Never suspecting what was coming, Gonnard was but +mildly curious. His head was too full of other thoughts. +"Well?" +</p> + +<p> +"I was on my way to you, comrade. There was a +meeting near the station. I stopped for a short time to +listen. When it was all over a crowd of us moved away. +Some one touched me on the shoulder and whispered +in my ear: 'Tell Comrade Gonnard, to-morrow.' I +looked round, but ... he might have been one of a +dozen." +</p> + +<p> +The commissary's mouth worked spasmodically. +He endeavoured to speak, but his tongue was paralysed. +His twitching nerves betrayed the panic which +embraced him, and his head drooped. +</p> + +<p> +"Cheer up, friend; do not let your fears get the +better of you. Surround yourself with a few of the +Red guards; you must have a pocketful of crowns +else you cannot be much of a commissary. Grease a few +palms. The White Knight is only a man after all." +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard looked up. "Gunzi, I am afraid," he +whispered hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +The detective shrugged his shoulders. "Then you +had better do as I suggest as soon as you can. +Meanwhile ... I think I will go and see our friend who +sent the telegram." +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard, shivering with apprehension, watched the +detective depart. Gunzi had failed, the White Knight +was at liberty. He clutched his throat with his hands. +He seemed to feel the rasp of the rope. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Father in Heaven! Oh, Holy Mary!" Again +and again he breathed aloud these words. Life was so +precious, so dear to him, and to-morrow he might die, +hang as he had seen a man hanged scarcely a month +back when Szamuelly had sat in judgment at one of the +wayside stations. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly and concisely, as though he were at a cinema +watching the unfolding of a photographic drama, he +remembered the horror depicted on the man's face as he +was marched toward the gallows. Vividly he recollected +the sudden jerk, the body stiffening.... "Save me, +our Father, save me!" he wailed, his uneducated +mentality incapable of varying his conjurations. "Oh; +God, save me!" +</p> + +<p> +The curtain at the window stirred slightly. With a +sudden jerk which set his heart tumbling and beating +Gonnard turned his fear-shot eyes in that direction. +He saw it was but a sudden puff of wind, but it might +have been the White Knight, and at the mere idea he +whimpered to himself. +</p> + +<p> +Well had Wenzel summed up the character of the +Communist. As reparation for the death of Coloman, +Gonnard was suffering the tortures of the damned. +Conscience and cowardice were taking their toll of the +man. +</p> + +<p> +Somewhere in the streets a clock chimed, and Gonnard +started. Eleven o'clock. Another thirteen hours +and the morrow would arrive and then ... He crouched +back into the chair, his hands warding off an invisible +horror. To-morrow the White Knight would come for +him and he would hang ... hang.... +</p> + +<p> +Mentally unhinged by the White Knight's repeated +warnings, it never occurred to Gonnard that, as Gunzi +had suggested, he might easily have surrounded +himself by wily guards who would have been more than +sufficient to protect the commissary against the +cunning of the White Knight. Yet, with an uncanny +insight, Wenzel had foreseen the consequences of his +melodramatic policy. +</p> + +<p> +It was not from bravado, or a leaning toward the +theatrical, that Wenzel sent the warning messages +to Gonnard. He wished to create the impression of +omnipotence, to hypnotize his victim into positive +belief in the powers of the White Knight. Then he +had intended to play a similar trick to the one he had +perpetrated in Budapest when he had rescued the Count +Bakocz. +</p> + +<p> +He had played his cards well, but, as he was to +discover, he had not under- but over-estimated the courage +of his opponent. Gunzi's message destroyed the last +remnants of Gonnard's courage. +</p> + +<p> +That the White Knight could touch the shoulder of +the detective who was searching for him, actually speak +into his ear, and yet get safely away, hinted to Gonnard +of the supernatural. +</p> + +<p> +Vague imaginings disturbed him. Anything was +preferable to his present misery—even death. +Supposing—merely supposing—he hanged himself. The +White Knight would be cheated, he himself peaceful +and content at last. +</p> + +<p> +The idea haunted him, and he laughed suddenly +at the picture of the White Knight's face. Perhaps +it was the sound of his own insensate mirth which +brought him to his senses; when he realized the +thoughts which had been passing through his mind +he shuddered, and once again his everlasting prayer to +God left his lips. +</p> + +<p> +His terror increased when, after what seemed but +a few minutes, seconds almost, a near-by clock struck +the hour of midday. Another hour gone by—another +hour nearer his death! +</p> + +<p> +Something snapped in his brain. He must run, +leave Aszod behind him, get to Budapest. Bela Kun +would protect him, Bela Kun would see that the White +Knight did not carry out his threat. +</p> + +<p> +Just as he had arisen from his bed, dirty and +unshaven, he scurried from the <i>château</i>. Without hat or +coat he gained the streets, and blindly fled from a +horror which, in his own conscience, pursued him even +through the streets, and all the time he seemed to see, +some distance behind, a vague, terrifying creature which +mocked and gibed at him, yet which always kept apace. +</p> + +<p> +There was no train to Budapest for hours. So said +the porter as he spat on the ground. +</p> + +<p> +The pursuing phantom laughed and gibed when +Gonnard glanced behind, and the commissary's +trembling knees felt weaker. Somehow or other he must +get to Budapest! Bela Kun would save him! +</p> + +<p> +There was a motor-car outside the station. Its engine +groaned and snorted, wasting away confiscated petrol. +Once it had belonged to the Thokoly family, but that +was before the Revolution. Since then the local +commissary had commandeered it. At the moment its +present owner was purchasing tobacco. +</p> + +<p> +The loud clamour of its carbonized cylinders attracted +the attention of another commissary. To Gonnard it +seemed to say: "To Bud-a-pest ... to Bud-a-pest." +</p> + +<p> +What matter to whom it belonged? It was a way +of escape from Aszod, a method of transportation to +Budapest. For the first time for a week a watery smile +parted his lips, and the next moment he had stepped +into the driver's seat, let out the clutch, and was noisily +traversing the empty streets. +</p> + +<p> +The houses thinned out, the intervals between them +became larger, and soon he was in the country. Of +the direction in which he was travelling he had not the +remotest idea, all he knew was that Aszod and the +White Knight were being left behind. +</p> + +<p> +At last he dared to look behind him. For a moment +he believed the road to be clear, but when he glanced +to his side there was the haunting, visionary avenger, +keeping apace, laughing derisively.... +</p> + +<p> +"Keep away! Holy Mary, keep him away!" he +shrieked, and pressed his foot still harder on the +accelerator, and the automobile shot forward. In vain! +With incessant, terrified glances he realized that the +shapeless form, the chimera of his guilty fear, was +joined by two other wraiths, which fell ... and fell +... even as had fallen two Hungarian officers. +</p> + +<p> +The car flew on along the rutted roads. The rusted +speedometer ticked away mile after mile, but Gonnard +drove blindly forward. What matter which direction +he took? Behind him the vengeance of the White +Knight. If once he stopped he might hang.... +</p> + +<p> +For hours the car with its solitary passenger careered +on unchecked, taking first this road, then that; its +bonnet pointing now to the east, now to the west. +</p> + +<p> +The hour might have been five, six, or seven o'clock. +Gonnard knew not. The passage of miles meant more +to him than the passing time. Moreover, he felt somewhat +easier. The last time he had looked he had failed +to see the two officers. They had disappeared, left +behind, while the White Knight had seemed to be flagging. +</p> + +<p> +He wanted to look again, but dared not, lest he +should discover that they were back. The urge +continued, and slowly his glance slipped round to his side, +then to his back, and his heart seemed to bubble over +with unexpected relief. The White Knight was gone +too, he had outstripped his avenger. He was safe +... safe ... safe! +</p> + +<p> +He patted and fondled the car with a loving air, and +with his fears dissolving common sense stepped in, +making him realize that he must find his way to Budapest +before dark, the darkness of which he was still afraid. +</p> + +<p> +He passed through one or two villages. He did +not recognize them, but when he slowed down and +inquired his way of the inhabitants they jerked their +thumbs forward with a surly air. Rumours were in the +air; hangings had been more frequent; and latterly they +were not quite so sure in their own minds that the dictum +of Budapest was all that it was represented to be. +</p> + +<p> +Conscious of an easier mind than he had possessed +for the last week, Gonnard gradually turned his thoughts +into more pleasant channels than that of the death he +believed he had barely escaped. Once he arrived in +Budapest he meant to make up for the past week. +</p> + +<p> +Firstly he would put himself under the protection +of Bela Kun. Then afterward, perhaps a good meal, +and the company of a charming woman, whose lips +would not be too backward.... In the days of the +Revolution there were many such. There were mothers +to be kept alive, or younger brothers and sisters. They +had to be fed.... The saddest sights of Budapest +during the days of the Red Terror were the women +whose gentle, innocent souls were besmirched and +befouled so that others might subsist. +</p> + +<p> +The road was inclining upward; in the distance was +a group of hills which Gonnard seemed to recognize. +Soon he was sure. They were the hills of Budapest. +He would soon reach the city now. +</p> + +<p> +Soon—soon—soon; the purring of the wheels on +the road sang the refrain. Despite its age the car took +the gradient well, and mounted higher into the hills. +</p> + +<p> +Here the forestry encroached on the cultivated land: +or, perhaps more correctly, cultivation ceased to invade +the forest. There was a sweet smell of dewy vegetation +in the air, the scent of pine and herbs. +</p> + +<p> +The last remnant of fear faded from Gonnard's +mind, routed by the thought of what lay before him +in Budapest. He sucked in his lips appreciatively, +already enjoying in anticipation that which would be +reality within a few hours. +</p> + +<p> +Should he pick a fair or a dark woman; one inclined +to plumpness or——? There was a staccato report, a +slackening in the speed of the car, and an unpleasant +grinding sound. +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard swore, and now that his courage had +returned it was the Devil he invoked. A puncture! +He applied the brake, shut off the engine, and the car +glided to a standstill. The commissary jumped out; +then, not without a frightened glance to the rear to +make quite sure the White Knight was still not to be +seen, he inspected the tyre. +</p> + +<p> +It was perfectly flat, the cause of the trouble obvious, +for not far from the valve a large nail was embedded in +the outer cover. There was only one thing to be done. +Gonnard cursed, and with smouldering fury in his +heart hastened to look under the seat for the necessary +repair appliances. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately everything needful was in its proper +place, so stripping off his coat he set to work. In +twenty minutes the repair was completed, and as he +let down the jack he spat on the road, a mark of relief. +</p> + +<p> +It was at that moment he became conscious of a +sound to his right. He spun round, his body slumping +into a crouching position, his eyes gleaming with +terror. He waved his hands weakly to ward off the +coming horror, but as the sound continued his +appearance changed. From fear, his expression changed to +puzzlement, then gradually broadened into cunning +amusement and bestial anticipation. The sound which +had arrested him was that of a woman singing. +</p> + +<p> +A woman! His thick, sensuous tongue licked his +dry lips caressingly. Had not his thoughts dwelt for +the last half-hour or so on women? Now, suddenly, +there was one within less than a hundred yards from +him, and by the sound of her voice she was young. +To the commissary it seemed Fate had sent her. If she +were alone... +</p> + +<p> +Stealthily he crept into the forest, and made his way +in the direction from which floated the clear, low notes +of the singer. Carefully he threaded his way through +the trees, and with every footstep he took his thoughts +became baser and more beastly. +</p> + +<p> +He halted behind a near-by tree, where he remained, +as he became assured that the woman was approaching. +He did not have to wait long. From out of the tangle +of greenery a vague form materialized, until at last, as +she emerged from behind a large shrub, she became +fully revealed to the lustful eyes of the Communist. +</p> + +<p> +He sucked in his breath with a slight gasp, and his +eyes gleamed still more brightly with the flare of his +aroused passion. The gods were kind! Never before +had he seen a more beautiful woman, a more delicate +shape, nor so divine a form. Even his wildest dreams +were surpassed by the reality. +</p> + +<p> +She had been picking flowers; her arms were filled with +beautiful forest blossoms, piled up in cascades until they +reached her chin, framing the fascinating face above. +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard grinned mirthlessly. She was the fairest +flower—a few yards more and she would be in his arms... +</p> + +<p> +He remained motionless: the woman passed by. +Rapidly he stepped behind her, and catching her +wrists wrenched them apart. The wild flowers of the +forest dropped mutely to the mossy carpet beneath. +</p> + +<p> +Mentally stunned by the shock Elizabeth did not +even attempt to struggle. The next moment Gonnard +gagged her mouth with one filthy handkerchief, and tied +her arms behind her with another. Then he lifted her in +his arms, and leering into her face grinned derisively at +her blazing eyes. He turned back to the car again. +</p> + +<p> +Now what of the White Knight! His fears were +gone, there were better thoughts to occupy his mind. +Indeed the gods were kind! He cranked up the engine, +and swung into the driver's seat. It would not be long +before they arrived in Budapest, and then... He +chuckled to himself as the car started forward. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER XII</i> +</h2> + +<p> +In the meanwhile, back in Aszod, Wenzel awaited +the hour of eight, when the plans which he had +laid so carefully should commence to fructify. He +knew that Gunzi was searching the city for him; at +times he had shadowed the detective to assure himself +that the other was not too warm on the scent. +</p> + +<p> +Cunningly he had arranged that Gunzi should track +him soon after eight, and for that purpose had left +behind a host of clues. When the plans materialized +Gunzi would learn of the whereabouts of the White +Knight. He would arrive just too late. Alarmed by +the closeness of the detective the White Knight would +have fled. +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi, he knew, would hurry back to Gonnard. +What would be the reaction? The White Knight +had not set Francis Bakocz to study the habits of the +commissary before Gonnard moved on to Aszod and +remained unaware that he would turn to wine and +women. +</p> + +<p> +In the days of the Revolution English money meant +much. With the crown falling and falling a few Treasury +notes would buy a man's soul, and would still more +encourage a woman, who already hated the Communists +for all they had done to her young sister, to listen with +a willing ear to Wenzel's suggestions. +</p> + +<p> +A rendezvous—a pretty woman—potent wine—and +in the middle of the supper—retribution. +</p> + +<p> +It was a pretty scheme and there were no loopholes. +Even if Gonnard should fail to fall into the baited trap +he was prepared with an alternative—but the White +Knight was confident of his man. At seven o'clock +Arnold would arrive. Wenzel glanced at his watch; just +four-fifteen, and therefore time to set his plans in motion. +</p> + +<p> +He lounged out of the room he had confiscated +together with several Reds in the name of the Commune. +Downstairs one of his fellow-proletarians was +just entering. +</p> + +<p> +"What, going out? You are a queer fellow, +comrade—different from the rest of us. We sleep all day, and +at night..." He grinned. "Well, I could take you +to several little haunts, my friend. Why don't you join +us? I know a pretty blonde; her lips are redder than +a ripened cherry, and warmer than the hot springs of +Margaret Island. She would bring life into those dull +eyes of yours, and set your blood racing." +</p> + +<p> +"Women!" Wenzel shrugged his shoulders. +"What do I want of women? I have had a surfeit of +them until I am tired of their monotonous caresses." +</p> + +<p> +The other looked at him enviously. "You are a +lucky fellow. A case of beauty and the beast, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel turned upon him, and the Communist saw +that in his eyes which made him feel afraid. "All +right, comrade," he added hastily; "I was only joking, +of course." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel growled, "Keep your jests to yourself, +friend, for sometimes they are like curses and +chickens—and come home to roost," then turning away he +lounged out. +</p> + +<p> +For some time he walked heedlessly. "Beauty and +the beast!" So hideous was he that even his own sex +were conscious of the fact! For the first me he +wondered what Arnold thought of him. Did he too +see his leader in the same light? +</p> + +<p> +Remorselessly he forced the trend of his thoughts +into other directions. He knew from past experience +the after-effect of too much communing with himself +on that subject, for the bitterness of his thoughts ate +into his soul, and the world became a black place—too +black, for was there not supposed to be a better +one elsewhere? +</p> + +<p> +He saw a train steaming into the station from +Budapest, and, more to keep his thoughts occupied +than for any other reason, he joined the throng of idle +sightseers who lounged near the entrance watching +the exit of the passengers. +</p> + +<p> +The people streamed through; some hesitatingly, +pausing outside to look around and find their different +ways; others, with a contempt bred of familiarity, +dispersed quickly and decisively along the adjacent +streets. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Wenzel stiffened, and frowned slightly. +Arnold was supposed to arrive by a later train, yet +he was even now jostling his way through a party who +clustered round a newsboy. +</p> + +<p> +Not seeing Wenzel, Arnold would have passed on, +but the White Knight stepped forward. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, comrade!" he cried loudly. "So you are +back again? How go things in Budapest?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, my friend; well." Arnold's expression +never altered. "Our troops beat back the enemy in +every direction, and the People's Government becomes +stronger and more fully recognized every day. It is +said that the Allies have expressed a desire to treat +with our great leader, Bela Kun." +</p> + +<p> +"Excellent, excellent! Come, Stephen, I will see +you home. You shall tell me more." +</p> + +<p> +They moved on, talking evenly until the people +thinned out. +</p> + +<p> +"One of Gunzi's men was near by," explained +Wenzel. "But now, why come you by an earlier +train?" +</p> + +<p> +Arnold's face clouded over. "Bad news, Wenzel; +bad news. Apor was caught corresponding with the +Whites and has been arrested." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel's face turned pale with passion. "The fool, +the fool! Why did he? Did I not give him strict +injunctions to serve me alone? Now, not only must he +suffer for his folly, but you, I, and others of his own +people, as well. My eyes and ears cut off from me, +my plans prejudiced: if he dies it is no more than +he deserves." +</p> + +<p> +"He will die, Wenzel." There was a quiet +suggestion in Arnold's voice which Wenzel did not fail +to perceive. +</p> + +<p> +"You are right, Arnold. Korvin-Klein is merciless, +there is no hope for him." +</p> + +<p> +"None at all?" There was wistful pleading in +Arnold's voice. +</p> + +<p> +"You liked him, did you not, Arnold? So did I. +Now you hint at rescue. But what of my mission +here? I have sworn Gonnard shall die, to-night will +see the fulfilment of my vow. Afterwards we will go +to Budapest." +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow will be too late, Geoffrey; surely +Gonnard can wait? Is not the life of Apor more to be +desired than the death of a Communist?" +</p> + +<p> +"Be quiet!" His voice rasped with anger. "My +plans are all prepared. Nothing must be allowed to +upset them." +</p> + +<p> +For a little while they walked along in silence, but +eventually Arnold spoke: "I do not understand you +to-day, Geoffrey. Has Gonnard done you any personal +injury that his death should be of more importance +than the life of one who has served you faithfully? We +may not save Apor—I cannot see how such a feat +could possibly be carried out successfully—yet it will +hurt me always if I—no, I say, we, Geoffrey—do not, +at least, make an attempt." +</p> + +<p> +The White Knight knew how true were the words +of his lieutenant. In speaking aloud to Arnold he had +been arguing with himself. If he went to Budapest +Gonnard would escape his clutches, perhaps never to +fall into them again, and then what of his word to +Elizabeth? He had sworn that Gonnard should +die—Gonnard, the murderer of Elizabeth's cousin. On the +other hand, there was Apor. Had not Apor risked his +life, time after time, to get him news of the movements +of the Communists, information which was of the +utmost importance to the White Knight in his rescue +of the unfortunate victims of Bolshevik persecution? +Had not Apor, descendant of generations of warring +aristocrats, demeaned himself, humbled his pride, to +serve in the enemy ranks that he might more usefully +aid the White Knight? Was all that service to count +for naught? +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel sighed. "You are right, Arnold. Gonnard +must wait. We will catch the next train to Budapest." +</p> + +<p> +They turned toward the station, and as they +approached Wenzel looked behind him, smiling grimly: +"What an unpleasant day Gonnard will spend +to-morrow waiting for the blow to fall!" +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard knew Budapest as he knew the lines of his +face. There was not a criminal resort with which he +had not been acquainted in the old days of law and +order, while the number of more or less habitable +quarters where he might lie securely hidden from the +prying eyes of the detectives, and to which he had the +<i>entrée</i>, was well into double figures. +</p> + +<p> +To one of these he drove the helpless Elizabeth. As +he brought the car to a halt he gave a quick glance up +and down the narrow road, but fortunately no one was +about, so with a deft movement, which was hard to +associate with one of his clumsy build, he picked her +up in his arms, and with scarcely any effort carried his +burden within, up the four flights of stairs to the +whitewashed attic, and there carefully locked the door behind +him. +</p> + +<p> +Once safely there, apparently unnoticed, he plucked +the gag from her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well," he mocked, "here you are, little +chicken, and here you will remain until I have finished +with you." Like all cowards he was a bully at heart, +and he spoke with blustering braggadocio. +</p> + +<p> +She gazed at him unflinchingly. "What do you +want of me?" she asked calmly. +</p> + +<p> +The question set him roaring with laughter. "Ho, +ho! Innocent one! So you do not know for what I +have brought you here to my little love-nest? Ho, +ho! Think it well over, my sweet, and see if you +cannot find out before I return." Suddenly his attitude +became menacing. "Sit down!" he ordered. +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth laughed slightly. "You are a fool," she +said easily. "Do you think you can hold me here +against my will? I have only to raise my voice and I +do not doubt that I should have half a dozen people +flocking to my aid—in addition to the police." +</p> + +<p> +He seemed to find humour in her answer, for his +face again broadened to a grin. "You think so? Let +me assure you to the contrary. In the first place, people +who live in this district mind their own business. Half +a dozen ... flocking ... your aid..." He could not +finish for the laughter which consumed him. "Women +have screamed for help before now, but no one has +interfered. We have more manners than that. As for +the police—— We live in different days, my sweet: +the police do not arrest commissaries." +</p> + +<p> +"So you are a commissary?" Elizabeth looked at +him with a quiet scorn, which pierced even his hide, +and his eyes narrowed. +</p> + +<p> +"Say all you want, my lady. It will be my turn later +on. Yes, I am a commissary. You and your kind no +longer rule the country; the proletariat have arisen. +Government for the people by the people is our watchword, +with no more magnates living like princes on +sweated gold." +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth did not speak in reply to this diatribe. +Despite her defiant attitude her heart beat with a +throbbing intensity. She knew her danger and +endeavoured to think of a way out, but she was conscious +of a hysterical panic which for all her courage she could +not repress, and the knowledge clouded her reason. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Gonnard continued speaking. "Too +proud to talk, eh? Well, well! You will learn reason +very soon." His eyes lit, and he stepped up to her, so +that she shrank away with a repulsing gesture. "Why +should I wait?" he asked thickly. "Why should I +wait? You and me——" Then he calmed down. +</p> + +<p> +"No. I will get rid of the car first, and see Bela Kun. +Just as well he should know that——" He broke off +short and glanced at Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +Then, without the slightest warning, he clasped her +in his arms, turned her round, and inspected the +strength of her bonds. He laughed grimly. "You +will be safe enough. You won't undo that handkerchief +in a hurry. And just in case you should make too much +noise——" With a quick movement he forced her +mouth open and inserted the gag again. +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth helplessly watched his ungainly form as he +lumbered across the room. Under ordinary circumstances +she would have shrunk from him with loathing. +Now, in his power, it seemed to her that he was even +more horrible, still more the chimera of an unbalanced +imagination. +</p> + +<p> +Gurgling deep down in his throat he unlocked the +door, then turned and blew a kiss across the room. +She shuddered slightly, and his mirth rang out coarsely. +Then he was gone, and she heard his footsteps heavily +descending the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +She listened acutely. The echo of his steps grew +fainter, until it faded away; but presently she heard +the whir of the motor below, then the chug-chug of +the engine as it progressed along the narrow street, +until that too died away, and an unnerving silence +ensued. +</p> + +<p> +Tired of standing she sat on a wooden chair, which +wobbled unsteadily, and nearly threw her to the floor, +but she managed to save herself by thrusting out a foot +against the wall. +</p> + +<p> +Her mouth hurt abominably—the plugged handkerchief +nearly choked her, while a fold of it tickled +the back of her throat until she felt a spasm of vertigo. +Her wrists smarted with the rub of her bonds, and her +bones ached from the cramped position she had been +forced to occupy during the drive into Budapest. +</p> + +<p> +Her physical pain, however, was as nothing to the +mental anguish which pricked and tortured her. Over +and over again she chided herself for her folly in +venturing so far from the <i>château</i>. Conscience played +havoc with her nerves; she realized that the discovery +of her presence might create danger for the rest of the +refugees, and that if that were not so her disappearance +might subsequently have a similar effect, for she knew +too that, as soon as the fact was discovered that she +was missing, search-parties would be organized, and as +they failed to find her they would surely venture farther +and farther afield. Was it not likely that in doing so +they might come into contact with curious peasants, or +be seen by suspicious Communists? +</p> + +<p> +Her father—of what would he be thinking? What +would be his sensations as the hours passed and no +good news of her arrived? She rocked slightly in the +agony of her thoughts, and the chair very nearly tilted +over. +</p> + +<p> +There was one other, too, of whom she scarcely dared +to think. The White Knight, the man who had risked +his life again and again to rescue her father and herself, +what would he think of her? +</p> + +<p> +Her remorse was more than she could bear, and tears +started to her eyes for the first time in fifteen years. +With an effort she rose to her feet, and paced the floor +as far as its limits would allow, hoping that with the +physical effort her thoughts would plague her to a +lesser degree. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she crossed to the window and gazed down +upon the road beneath, then at the houses opposite, +and she realized that, if the depressing environment and +the ill-cared-for state of the buildings counted for +anything, the commissary had not exaggerated his claims +to seclusion. +</p> + +<p> +The street was dismal and unkempt; it radiated an +evil atmosphere, a suggestion of mystery. Here and +there people moved about, but, such is the force of +habit, even though the Government was now in the +hands of the criminal community, and everything was +done to favour instead of incarcerate the criminal, the +denizens of this quarter still continued to slink warily, +casting uneasy glances from side to side. +</p> + +<p> +The women were drab, their faces were hard and +starved, while the men were brutal, their shaven heads +intensifying the criminal cast of their faces. Horrified +by all she saw, nevertheless Elizabeth could not withdraw +from the window. It was all so new to her who +had always lived on the broad, clean plains, who had +seen only village life, except for glimpses of the world, +now and again, from hotel windows. +</p> + +<p> +A deep thinker and a student of physiognomy, she +believed she would have been deeply interested had +she been in more happy circumstances. As it was, +studying the neighbourhood as far as the narrow +compass of the window would permit, the sight did +not help her to minimize her plight; rather it assumed, +every second, an uglier garb, and she laughed mirthlessly. +Supposing she were rescued, say, by any of the +residents of the neighbouring buildings? It seemed +a moot point as to whether she would be any better +off, for her one thought then was whether any one face +which she saw from the window was more evil than the +next. +</p> + +<p> +A minute later and, with a feeling of uncontrollable +horror, she had to reverse her theory. There swung into +her vision a tall man—like most tall men, stooping +slightly. He was dressed in filthy clothes, a cap was +crammed over his head and eyes, a scarf wound round +his neck. He walked as did Gonnard, with a shuffling, +uncouth gait. +</p> + +<p> +At first she saw nothing of his face, but he stopped +by the wall to light a cigarette, and apparently his cap +must have caught on something sharp. Puffing the +cigarette he stepped forward on his walk, and the hat +came off his head. +</p> + +<p> +For a brief second he gazed upward in surprise: it +was then that Elizabeth realized that of all the vile, +brutal faces which she had seen in the last half-hour +there was not one to be compared with that upon +which she now gazed. +</p> + +<p> +Its monstrous ugliness hurt her, the blood-red scars +which deformed his head and face sickened her, and her +lips trembled. Supposing that it were he, not Gonnard, +who held her prisoner.... +</p> + +<p> +She saw him snatch his cap from the wall. His lips +moved, and she had no doubt that he cursed blasphemously. +He would have crammed his hat back on his +head when suddenly it seemed that her fixed gaze was +magnetically riveting his attention. He looked upward, +his eyes travelled toward her window. +</p> + +<p> +With a shudder she jerked her head backward that +he should not see her ... and the White Knight, +wondering what impulse had made him glance upward, +continued his way toward the rendezvous he had made +with Arnold when they had parted at the station. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER XIII</i> +</h2> + +<p> +That night the sun had scarcely buried itself +beneath the rim of the horizon when Gunzi +entered a low-class bar in a quarter scarcely a +stone's-throw from where Elizabeth was imprisoned. +</p> + +<p> +Many things had happened that day in Aszod. In +the morning the White Knight had been daring enough +to touch him on the shoulder, whisper a message in his +ear, and yet dissolve into the crowd without betraying +himself in the slightest to the detective, and Gunzi, +who could conceive only that the White Knight had +singled him out for the purpose of fooling him, seethed +with fury against the audacious <i>bourgeois</i>. +</p> + +<p> +He had masked it when giving Gonnard the whispered +message. He realized that the terror caused by +the constant succession of warnings was part and parcel +of the White Knight's plan, in which case it obviously +suited him to assist it to its fulfilment, for he was certain +that sooner or later the White Knight would betray his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +After leaving Gonnard he worked diligently all the +morning, but with no tangible result, and his anger +increased, and burned within his breast like a smouldering +fire. Then, in the afternoon, he came across his +first clue. The man in prison recovered his memory, +not so much as regards his description of the White +Knight, but as to an address where the mysterious +avenger had once stayed. +</p> + +<p> +There was only one small matter: if it should be +definitely proved that his information was correct he was +to be released unconditionally. Gunzi, who aimed for +bigger fry, was more than agreeable to this proposal. +</p> + +<p> +When Gunzi investigated, it was to find that the +White Knight had gone from there, but—"Look you, +comrade, I had my suspicions of him. He did not +seem a true Communist, and he talked in his sleep. +One night when I was passing his door I heard the +name of Comrade Gonnard mentioned, whoever he may +be, and this man was turning, twisting, and swearing +vengeance." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes; but where went he after leaving you?" Gunzi +could scarcely control his patience. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! friend, maybe I can tell you, maybe I cannot. +Yet, some time after he left me, I saw him coming out +of a house in another part of the city. Where was it? +Well, comrade, am I not about to tell you? Why should +I hurry?..." And the detective had to listen for ten +minutes to unimportant and loquacious meandering, but +in the end he learned a fresh address. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely daring to hope he rushed post-haste across +the town. The door was opened by a smiling-faced, +buxom woman. Did she have a man so—and Gunzi +described to the best of his ability as much as he +knew of the White Knight—staying at her charming +residence? +</p> + +<p> +"Why, yes, comrade, of course I knew him, but he +left me four days ago. Hearing that the <i>château</i> of +Zoltan Giesswein was to be taken over by the +Communists, he told me he intended to confiscate one of +the rooms for himself. He seemed a studious young +man. He was kind and kissed me when he left." +</p> + +<p> +Later, Gunzi arrived at the <i>château</i> of Zoltan +Giesswein, once magnate and owner of a huge steel-works, +now a refugee in Vienna, devoting his time to the +formation of a White Army. +</p> + +<p> +Here the men were more loth to answer questions, +for they, unlike the others, had not been coached in +their answers. What did it matter to Gunzi, they +asked, if such a man now lived at the <i>château</i>? In no +uncertain words they told him to look for himself. +Yet in the end he secured the information for which +he had been seeking. +</p> + +<p> +"Him!" The man to whom the detective put +the question laughed scornfully. "He is out all day, +yes, and he is out now. But he will be back, comrade, +do not worry. A cold-blooded fish—women do not +interest him; he told me so this very afternoon. Tried +to make me believe he had had too many. As if any +man can have too many women!" +</p> + +<p> +"So he will be back to-night?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am not his mother. He did not tell me so." +</p> + +<p> +"But you think he will?" +</p> + +<p> +"Bah! I have no doubt that he will. Myself, I +believe he is afraid of the dark. He will be back. An +early worm!" +</p> + +<p> +There were no longer any doubts left in Gunzi's +mind that he had tracked his man, and chuckling to +himself in triumph he hurried back to Gonnard to let +the commissary hear the good news. +</p> + +<p> +When he looked for Gonnard the man had disappeared. +The detective could make neither head nor +tail of the mystery, and with a sinking heart came to +the conclusion that the White Knight had succeeded +in his revenge, cleverly anticipating his ultimatum by +a day, and he realized the full cunning of the daily +warnings. +</p> + +<p> +For all that, where was the missing Gonnard? With +a tenacity worthy of a better cause Gunzi set to work +again, and fitted together, piece by piece, a possible +solution. +</p> + +<p> +The commissary had fled in fear; and from the +facts he had collected Gunzi could not believe that he +had scuttled to anywhere save Budapest. Determining +to wait only long enough to arrest the Enemy of the +Commune, he resolved to follow. +</p> + +<p> +He waited—in vain. Night arrived, and in the +end he realized that the White Knight too must have +hurried to Budapest, more than probably on the heels +of Gonnard. +</p> + +<p> +Under the new <i>régime</i> Gunzi had no superiors. It +was in his own hands to depart instantly for the capital. +As for the necessary funds ... down one quiet road +he saw an old man shuffling along. At the pistol's +point, and in the name of the Commune, Gunzi forced +him to turn out his pockets, and fortunately secured +enough cash to get him to Budapest and back, with +the possibility of a drink or two in between. +</p> + +<p> +Arriving late in Budapest he made his way to a +place he knew well, a beershop which defied the official +regulations as to the sale of intoxicating liquor, and +the White Knight, recognizing him, knew that the +Fates were playing into his hands, for he could have +wished for no better tool than Gunzi to use in the plot +already fermenting in his head for the rescue of his +lieutenant from the clutches of the Communists. +</p> + +<p> +He followed Gunzi in and sat a couple of tables +away. With a loud but unsteady voice he ordered +drink. His rough tones were heard even above the din +of voices and clatter of glasses; several pairs of eyes, +observing him, twinkled significantly. +</p> + +<p> +For a while Wenzel remained quiet, drinking +steadily, but after a time he shuffled uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +"More drink!" he shouted, and a fresh bottle of +wine was placed on the table before him. He filled +his glass, rose to his feet, and banged loudly. The +noise of argument ceased, and he became a centre of +interest. +</p> + +<p> +"Here ... here's to the Commune!" he toasted, +and with a wavering hand, which caused the wine to slop +over the rim of the glass down the front of his clothes, +he guided the glass to his lips and drank heavily. +</p> + +<p> +"Hear! Hear!" There was an echoing chorus, and +the toast was drunk. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel refilled his glass, and once again pounded +on the table. "And—and damnation—to all Whites!" +he bellowed. +</p> + +<p> +There was muttered laughter. The fellow was becoming +amusing, and for the sake of the fun they began +to encourage him. Once again they drank his toast. +</p> + +<p> +"Go on, go on!" some one called out encouragingly. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel blinked, his head wagged stupidly from side +to side. "And death to all those who say otherwise," +he hiccupped, and drained a third glass. +</p> + +<p> +There was an unrestrained roar of laughter: "Keep +it up, keep it up!" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel refilled his glass, the wine spilling all over +the table in the effort: "And may—the—damned +traitor Apor—die soon." +</p> + +<p> +There was a silence. This was news. +</p> + +<p> +"What's that you say? Who is Apor?" Questions +were hurled at him from all quarters of the tavern. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel looked blearily around. "What! Have you +not heard yet of the arrest of Apor, assistant—assistant +to Comrade Eugene Hamburger, Commissary +for—for—for Agriculture?" he asked thickly. +</p> + +<p> +There was a stir of interest. "No, no. Tell us, +friend." +</p> + +<p> +"Tell you! Why not? Have I not heard the story +from Comrade Hamburger himself? This Apor was +a good Communist, yet secrets of the Soviet drifted +out, and the Council wondered why. One—one day +a detective searched this Apor's correspondence. +What do you think he found, friends?" He paused +dramatically, and looked round with a triumphant grin. +"He discovered, comrades, that Apor was a spy, +corresponding with Vienna, acting for the Whites." +</p> + +<p> +There was a wild roar of anger from his listeners, +but Wenzel held up a shaking hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Peace—peace, friends. There is more to tell you. +Not only was Apor a spy for the Whites, he was also +acting for one of whom we have all heard ... heard. +The White Knight, friends, the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +There was a momentous silence, broken only by +a gasp from Gunzi. Then, suddenly, the tavern +resounded with hoarse cries of anger. Many rose to +their feet. "Death to the traitor, death! Hang him! +Torture him! Make him confess! Make him tell of +the White Knight!" +</p> + +<p> +If Wenzel had hoped to create pandemonium he had +undoubtedly achieved success. Presently the clamour +subsided, and once more all eyes were turned in the +direction of Wenzel, who continued to stand upon his +feet, but only with an effort. He swayed to and fro, +his eyes blinked and watered under the cap which +was crushed down over them. They could see only the +lower part of his face, and that but indistinctly, for +the scarf which was wound round his neck and chin +reached as high as his lower lip. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel laughed gutturally. "What—what use +shouting, comrades? Apor will not die. White Knight +will rescue." His speech became more indistinct, +and his audience feared that he would collapse in a +drunken stupor before his story was finished. Some +one dexterously removed the half-finished bottle from +the table. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time this last statement was received +incredulously. Some one remonstrated: "Yah! Yah! +You talk loudly, my friend. How could anyone rescue +Apor? Is he not in prison?" +</p> + +<p> +"Apor in prison." Wenzel laughed, and the saliva +dribbled from the corners of his mouth. "Of course. +He is in Parliament—cells. Yet White Knight will +rescue. Easy enough." +</p> + +<p> +"Bah! I know the Parliament House cells, and I +say that not even the White Knight could rescue anyone +from them." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel wagged a remonstrating finger. "Yes, he +could, just same I could." +</p> + +<p> +There was a roar of laughter, and Wenzel frowned. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell us then," his hearers shouted, but Wenzel +shook his head. "You might tell Bela Kun—I +hang—keep my secrets—myself." +</p> + +<p> +His talk was incoherent, the interest of the others +began to lessen. They had obtained all the news they +could from him, and now they wanted none of his +drunken babblings and theories of impossible rescue. +</p> + +<p> +Yet there was one who leaned forward, eyes gleaming +interestedly. Gunzi knew well the potent influence of +drink: in his time he had secured many a guarded +secret from a man "liquored up" to a degree of nicety, +and Gunzi, reading the signs, was convinced that the +man to whom he had been listening had reached that +stage. +</p> + +<p> +He moved his chair over to Wenzel's table: "Sit +down, my friend, and tell me. I am interested." +</p> + +<p> +Obediently Wenzel collapsed on to his chair, then +glared malignantly at the detective: "Why should—tell +you and not—not—not other people?" +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi shrugged his shoulders. "They are fools, +they would believe anything. Myself, I would not. +I ask you to tell me so that I can point out to you how +impossible would be your plan." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he believed the Devil had been raised +in the other man, for Wenzel shot out a clawing hand +which searched for the detective's throat, while Gunzi +shrank back, his small rat-face paling, but the effort +was too much for Wenzel. His arm relaxed, fell +heavily upon the table, and his head followed suit. +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi frowned. Supposing he learned something +of advantage to Bela Kun! It was not unlikely that +the Dictator might reward him. He leaned forward +and whispered: "More drink, eh, friend?" +</p> + +<p> +His words had their effect. Wenzel raised his head +and blinked. "Yes," he muttered, "if you pay." +</p> + +<p> +"I will pay," Gunzi agreed eagerly, and ordered +wine. Slowly Wenzel raised himself to a sitting +position, and drank. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, comrade, how would you rescue this traitor, +Apor?" prompted the detective. +</p> + +<p> +"Easily. Suppose ... suppose, for instance, I were +this—this White Knight. Would I wait longer than +early to-morrow morning rescue Apor? No, comrade, +for if I were the White Knight I should hear that +to-morrow Apor—come before Korvin-Klein. There—therefore +should I act even before the sun rises above +the—the horizon. +</p> + +<p> +"To Parliament House I should go with a letter +from Bela Kun himself, an order to release an unnamed +prisoner." Wenzel chuckled, and looked cunningly +up at Gunzi from the corners of his eyes. Unconsciously +his hand wandered to his breast pocket and +patted it caressingly. "What would the jailers say? +'What want you ... this prisoner?' I should tell +them.... 'Bela Kun's business. Apor to be hanged +elsewhere.... Allies might hear of it ... interfere.'" +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi smiled scornfully. "A fool scheme, comrade. +The jailers would smell a rat. They would refuse to +hand over the prisoner." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel leered. "Yah! You take me for big fool! +I am not that, no. I am all ... I ... I would +be all prepared. Do I not know the jailer would be +curious?..." Somehow the expression of his face +changed, and Gunzi saw a look of suspicion cross the +features of the other. +</p> + +<p> +"Why—why ask you all these questions? What +does it matter to you?" His eyes seemed brighter, +less bleary. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing, nothing at all, comrade." Gunzi +endeavoured to appease the other: "You will drink +again?" The detective dreaded that the symptoms of +the drunken man might change. At present he was +docile; just stupid and sleepy. If he should become +ferocious, should the spirit of battle be aroused within +him ... Gunzi had seen many a drunken scrimmage +in his time, and with a sinking heart realized that the +other man's temper was slowly rising. +</p> + +<p> +Quickly he ordered the drinks. Wenzel observed +the bottle of wine set before him, and wavered. He +stretched out a hand to grasp it, and Gunzi sighed with +relief. The next moment Wenzel rose to his feet and +towered above Gunzi. He seized the bottle and crashed +it down on the table, where it shivered to pieces, the +wine spurting in streams on to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +"You—you spy!" In a thick, unsteady voice +Wenzel accused the detective. "I will not talk to you. +Perhaps I will kill you!" +</p> + +<p> +There was drama in the air. Once again Wenzel was +the centre of attraction, and several men near by tensed +themselves, ready to spring to Gunzi's help. Wenzel +gazed round him with a belligerent air, but seemed +to realize that the odds would be against him, for with +a growl he turned his back and swayingly zigzagged +his way to the door. This he opened, and the next +moment disappeared into the night, and with scarcely +another pause the tavern resumed its normal appearance. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless Gunzi was annoyed that he had not +heard the finish of the scheme, though he believed he +had heard enough to assure him that the White Knight +intended to act before the early morning. Some one +ought to be warned! +</p> + +<p> +He communed with himself. He had enough news +to give Bela Kun to warrant asking a favour in return. +If he waited until morning the White Knight might +have carried through his plans, and have liberated Apor. +Then of what use would it be for Gunzi to approach +him? +</p> + +<p> +He made up his mind, called the waiter to him, and +asked the way to Bela Kun. The man smiled. "Bela +Kun may be anywhere. In the palace of the Hapsburgs, +in the Parliament building, or yet, and still more likely, +in Batthyany's Palace. He likes good food, I am told, +and there is nightly a great feast there." +</p> + +<p> +With rapid steps Gunzi made his way toward the +Batthyany Palace, and for the first time obtained a +glimpse of Budapest under the Red <i>régime</i>. Everywhere +he passed wholesale looting was taking place. +Savage Red guards and drunken Terrorists, riding +wildly about in confiscated automobiles, commandeered +food and dwellings. +</p> + +<p> +Other bands paid domiciliary visits in search of +<i>bourgeois</i> spies, or refugees. Hostages were arrested, +to be kept in prison against the good behaviour of the +innocent <i>bourgeoisie</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Even Gunzi was slightly surprised, though not +shocked, and he was all the more determined to gain +a post in Budapest. He began to have visions of a life +about which hitherto he had hardly dreamed. In Aszod, +he realized, he had been too faithful to his duties, even +if he were indubitably a Communist. +</p> + +<p> +He remembered the beautiful mansion in the +Theresa Boulevard, and because he had visions of it +still in his mind's eye as he neared it, its present +appearance caused him to rub his eyes and wonder whether +he were dreaming. +</p> + +<p> +In front of the house the pavement was heavily +barricaded. Lights gleaming from the mansion +behind the obstructions reflected on the barrels of +field-guns, machine-guns, and <i>Minnenwerfers</i>, while before +the gates were three heavy motor-lorries, armed with +machine-guns. +</p> + +<p> +Here and there patrolled Lenin Boys, and Gunzi, +looking through the barricades, could see that each +one was armed with revolver, bowie-knife, and hand-grenades. +</p> + +<p> +Gazing at the mansion in bewilderment, Gunzi +compared it to a fortress, and, as he was afterward +to find, the imagery lost nothing in the searchlight of +reality. It was indeed a veritable fortress. Down in +the cellars were stored an enormous amount of ammunition +and quantities of food. Still more, it protected a +host of Lenin Boys, who, under the leadership of Josef +Cserni, an ex-sailor of no mean physical dimensions, +terrorized the city of Budapest. +</p> + +<p> +Evidently Gunzi was betraying too great an interest. +He felt something boring into his ribs, and turning +round found a Lenin Boy covering him with a rifle. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, comrade," the guard growled unpleasantly, +"what do you want? This part is unhealthy for +sightseers and tourists." +</p> + +<p> +"I am looking for Bela Kun." +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have news for him, urgent and important news." +</p> + +<p> +The Lenin Boy laughed shortly and jerked his thumb +in the direction of the palace: "I doubt that you have +news more important than the little lady who doubtless +occupies his attention at the moment. Try and see him +to-morrow, friend. You will find him more inclined to +listen to affairs of State." +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow will be too late," protested Gunzi. +"Tell Bela Kun my news concerns the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +"What!" The guard lowered his rifle. "That is +different. The Devil! Why did you not say so before?" +</p> + +<p> +"Did you give me a chance?" asked Gunzi, but the +other had not heard, for with a muttered "Follow me!" +he turned and was threading the barricades toward the +entrance of the Batthyany mansion. +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes later Gunzi was taken to Bela Kun, +and there received another shock. Partly warned by +the waiter at the beerhouse, he had realized that he +would find the Dictator partaking of some sort of a +feast, but in no way was he prepared for the positive +banquet which was set out in one of the rooms. +</p> + +<p> +The tables groaned with good food and wine, all +commandeered, and round them sat dozens of Terror +Boys, already showing traces of the orgy in which they +were indulging. Not only Terror Boys were there, +but many women, kidnapped earlier in the evening and +forced to take a part in the wild revels. +</p> + +<p> +In the Batthyany Palace there was no evidence of +the food shortage. No one seeing the nightly feasts +which took place would have suspected that in Hungary +people were starving for lack of nourishment, that +women sold their souls to keep homes going. The best +of everything was served up to the four hundred odd +Terror Boys and the commissaries, with their wives +and mistresses. "The Commune!" One day in the +future dictionaries will print another definition of the +word. Perhaps—"mine—thine." It will be sufficient! +The true Communist may rant of "share—share!" He +can afford to, he who has nothing to share! +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi could readily conceive Bela Kun's dislike to +being interrupted after the business of the day was +over. On his knee sat a young girl, perhaps nineteen +or twenty years of age. Her clothes were torn in front +from neck to waist, exposing here and there two +snowy-white, innocent breasts. Her dainty little face was +suffused with terror; her dilated eyes, her trembling +lips were ample evidence that she was in torment—and +Gunzi saw that she was but one of many. +</p> + +<p> +When he saw the detective Bela Kun glanced up +with an ugly frown. "I hear you have urgent news +for me concerning the White Knight? What is it? +And listen, my friend, if it is not important——" He +left the threat unspoken. +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi, who in his own way was not unpossessed +of his share of courage, smiled slightly. "Fear not, +Comrade Bela Kun. My information is more than +urgent. It needs immediate attention. +</p> + +<p> +"To-night I arrived in Budapest from Aszod and +entered a tavern for a glass of beer. There I came +across a man, half-drunk, who rose to his feet and told +the company at large that an assistant commissary, by +name Apor, had been arrested to-day." +</p> + +<p> +Bela Kun's eyes narrowed. "This grows interesting. +I thought the fact of Apor's arrest was secret. Go on." +</p> + +<p> +"Next," continued Gunzi, "he told us the reason +why. Apor had been found corresponding with the +Whites in Vienna." He looked at the Dictator for +confirmation, and the other nodded his head slightly. +"There was an uproar from his listeners, but this +drunken fool had not finished blurting out all his +secrets. He told us all something else. He said that +Apor was also an emissary of the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +He stopped short. With a roar of rage Bela Kun +rose to his feet in a turmoil of excitement, throwing +the girl to the floor, where she lay, sobbing. Fiercely +the Dictator peered into the face of the detective, +seeking to divert the direct stare of the other, but Gunzi's +glance did not waver. +</p> + +<p> +"Satan! If that is true——" +</p> + +<p> +His words rang queerly to the astute detective. +"What do you mean, comrade?" he asked hoarsely. +"Did you not know that?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, by God, I did not!" +</p> + +<p> +"Then," said Gunzi quietly, "that proves my +theory. The man who, with a drink-loosened tongue, +let me into all his secrets must have been a member +of the White Knight's gang." He smiled scornfully. +"That must have been good wine!" +</p> + +<p> +Bela Kun waved his hand impatiently. "Tell me +more." +</p> + +<p> +"I got this man to talk. He told me much; not +all that I wanted, yet sufficient to assure me that before +the sun rises to-morrow Apor will have been rescued." +</p> + +<p> +"Impossible! Apor is imprisoned in the cells +beneath Parliament House." +</p> + +<p> +The detective shrugged his shoulders. "Yet it is +all planned. The White Knight has a letter from you, +an order to release an unnamed prisoner——" +</p> + +<p> +He was interrupted by a hoarse growl of rage from +the Dictator: "The Devil! He speaks the truth. Some +time back I wrote one out. It disappeared. How did +he get that?" Light dawned in his mind. "Apor!" +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi nodded. "You see, comrade, I do not +exaggerate. That much I discovered, but that was all. +Not only will the White Knight rely upon that letter, +but he has some other plan up his sleeve. What it is +I cannot tell. If you wish to keep Apor prisoner you +must act now—immediately." +</p> + +<p> +"You are right." Bela Kun's face worked with +the rage which consumed him, but presently his face +calmed, and slowly a smile—a grin of wile and +cunning—spread across his features. +</p> + +<p> +"I think," he said, chuckling, "that for once the +White Knight is going to fail. Before the sun rises +to-morrow morning Apor will be dead." +</p> + +<p> +"You mean...?" Gunzi raised his forehead +inquiringly. +</p> + +<p> +"I mean that I shall telephone immediately to +Parliament House. In less than ten minutes' time +a few trusty Red guards will convey Apor to the +Suspension Bridge and drop him into the Danube, +bound hand and foot, that the rat shall not struggle. +Do you not think that a good scheme?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is the only one," agreed Gunzi admiringly. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER XIV</i> +</h2> + +<p> +Two men crouched back deep in the shadows +of Parliament House, tensely waiting, waiting +with a nervousness neither could conceal. +</p> + +<p> +"Arnold, the time goes slowly. I feel damnably +afraid. Supposing my plan should miscarry, supposing +I have failed to elucidate the intricate workings of +Bela Kun's twisted mind, I shall have signed Apor's +death-warrant just as if I had passed judgment on him +myself." +</p> + +<p> +"You can do no more, Geoffrey, than what you have +done. In any event Apor would die." +</p> + +<p> +"Never have I perpetrated such a thin, feeble plot, +Arnold. It has so many weak links. When Gunzi +passes on the news to Bela Kun, the Dictator may refuse +to credit Gunzi's story; on the other hand, he may be +so enraged that he will telephone through to have the +poor fellow bayoneted right away. Or, if Apor is to be +flung into the Danube, he may do it from Parliament +House, and all we shall hear will be a splash and—and +Apor will be no more." His voice broke slightly. +</p> + +<p> +"That—that, I am afraid, is your weakest link, +Geoffrey." +</p> + +<p> +"No, you are wrong there, Arnold, and it is upon my +estimation of the ingrained cruelty of the Red guards +that I have staked the success of my plans. To you or +me it would be an easy matter to dispose of—of Apor. +A blow on the head, and over the balustrade into the +river. Nothing could be more quiet, more secretive. +</p> + +<p> +"Such a programme fails to satisfy the Communists. +It is too quick and too easy a death, so they drag their +victims to one of the bridges. That takes time—every +yard progressed is a mental, poignant stab for the +unfortunate prisoner. Every step is punctuated with a +thrust from a rifle butt or the prick of a bayonet. Fine +torture that, Arnold, and ... well, I hope to Heaven +that they think Apor worthy of it. Otherwise he is +doomed and——" +</p> + +<p> +Some one stumbled in the distance, and with a +warning touch on Arnold's arm Wenzel stopped short, +and the two Englishmen waited, hoping against hope +that Bela Kun would fall into the trap. With fierce eyes +they watched the door from which the condemned +prisoners were led. Would it open?—would it open? +</p> + +<p> +The streets were quiet and comparatively deserted. +At night only the Terror Boys, or slinking fugitives, +ventured out, for there were flying bullets, apt to hit +the most innocent targets. At night the Red guards +were even more belligerent. Those who would live, or +remain unmolested, stayed indoors. +</p> + +<p> +Thus the steps of the one whom Wenzel had heard in +the distance echoed loudly in the quietness, and the next +instant the air resounded with the notes of a jubilant +song. In quavering tones, hideously out of tune, +punctuated with hilarious bursts of laughter, the +inebriated singer disturbed the peace, and the effect was +the more weird for its jarring contrast to the air of +tragedy in which Budapest was steeped night and day. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Wenzel swore. Judging by the increasing +clearness of the wild sounds which the man uttered he +was approaching Parliament Square. The White Knight +clenched his fist with a desperate intensity. "May the +Devil seize him, the drunken swine!" he whispered. +"If his visit here should coincide——" +</p> + +<p> +The door which they watched was opening, formless +shapes could dimly be seen issuing from it, and the +next moment Wenzel knew that up to this point his +plot was a success, for in the vague, uncertain light +of an adjacent street lamp he could distinguish Apor, +handcuffed, surrounded by three armed Red guards. +</p> + +<p> +The moment the door was shut behind the group +the time for action would have arrived. Wenzel and +Arnold gripped their revolvers by the barrels, ready to +bring them down upon the heads of the soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +The drunkard came nearer, and Wenzel could have +cried cut in agony. Instead of proceeding with their +ghastly business, the guards were hesitating, looking +curiously around. The Englishmen shrank closer into +the shadows. If they were seen... +</p> + +<p> +For some reason the men seemed disinclined to slam +the door, and start. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, comrade, what noise is that?" asked one. +</p> + +<p> +The man to his right laughed slightly. "Some one +who has failed to heed Bela Kun's instructions as to +prohibition. His row is enough to awaken the dead. +What say you, friends—shall we knock him across the +head with our rifles and teach him a lesson?" +</p> + +<p> +"You are envious, you," exclaimed the third man. +"Let us get this job over. I feel sleepy." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, leave the poor devil alone. He is lucky to +get it, that's what I say." +</p> + +<p> +The sanguinary one hesitated, and the damage was +done. The group had been seen. Steering an erratic +course the drunken singer made toward them. +</p> + +<p> +"What ... matter...? What are you men doing here?" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel stiffened. The voice was reminiscent. He +peered through the darkness, but the newcomer had +his back toward him. +</p> + +<p> +"Move on, comrade, and mind your own business." +</p> + +<p> +"Who you telling—mind my business? I am +commissary—for me order you about...." +</p> + +<p> +"Hell!" The guard who had originally suggested +doing what Wenzel longed to do turned upon the +drunken man with an angry air: "Don't you talk like +that, my friend. Get on, I say!" He stretched out an +arm and roughly pushed the other, so that the +commissary stumbled and nearly fell. By swinging round +he saved himself, and then Wenzel saw his face. +</p> + +<p> +A wild sense of exhilaration bubbled up inside the +White Knight. How wrong to think that Fate was +playing against him! How wrong, when it was just +the opposite! How it was that the man came there, +what he was doing in Budapest, Wenzel could not even +imagine, but at that moment nothing mattered, nothing +except that after all he could keep his oath to Elizabeth, +for there, in front of him, was Comrade Gonnard. +</p> + +<p> +he gripped Arnold's arm convulsively, and with the +slightest hiss Terhune signified that he was prepared. +Events were turning out more propitious than either of +them had dreamed. For a brief space the Red guards +were interested in disposing of Gonnard, and without +being aware of it their vigilance had lessened. +</p> + +<p> +Once again Wenzel's fingers conveyed a message, +and the next instant two silent forms leaped from the +shadows of Parliament House. There were two +sickening thuds, as two of the guards collapsed to +the ground with scarcely a moan. +</p> + +<p> +The third man yelled with surprise. Hypnotized +by the sudden attack, his limbs refused to move until +he saw three shadows advancing toward him with an +uncanny quietness. +</p> + +<p> +His hand darted to his belt; even as he pulled out +the heavy Army revolver his fingers tightened on the +trigger, and a stream of bullets whipped through the air, +the attendant flickering flashes of light momentarily +lighting up the drama with a ghastly clarity. +</p> + +<p> +Almost before the guard's last shot had finished +echoing reverberatingly round the square it was +challenged by two new reports, and even while Apor +whirled round and dropped, and Gonnard, the third +man, grunted and gently collapsed, the guard shrieked, +and then he too slumped to the ground, where he lay +still and motionless. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel was conscious that one other shadow still +remained upright. "Who is it?" he asked hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +"I am untouched—and you, Geoffrey?" +</p> + +<p> +"Safe—but I am afraid Apor is down." +</p> + +<p> +It was Apor himself who answered: "Only a flesh +wound in the arm, Wenzel." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank God! But now we must run like Hell. +Quick, Arnold, help Apor." +</p> + +<p> +Already Apor was making an effort to stumble to +his feet, but his manacled hands made the task difficult. +Arnold bent down and practically lifted him to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Away with you," Wenzel growled—his ear caught +the sound of running footsteps inside Parliament +House—"they are coming." +</p> + +<p> +For one second Arnold hesitated: "And you, Geoffrey?" +</p> + +<p> +"Leave me, I will join you—later," he answered quietly. +</p> + +<p> +There was no time to argue. With a quick run +Arnold and Apor disappeared into the night <i>en route</i> +for a previously arranged destination, and Wenzel +laughed softly to himself. Provided that nothing +unforeseen should happen, in five minutes' time Apor +would be safe, and once again the White Knight would +have scored another triumph. +</p> + +<p> +He knew that he should run—he could hear the +reinforcements, shouting in their excitement, just +inside the door. Four, three more paces and they +would be in the open, their revolvers cocked ready to +spit at the shadow which he knew would be faintly +visible to them. Yet, before he left, there was one +more task to do. +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard was lying at his feet: alive or dead he +knew not, nor was there time to investigate. That +would do later. He picked the body up and flung it +across his shoulder. The first guard came through +the door, and Wenzel fired. His aim was true, the +man fell heavily. +</p> + +<p> +There were dismayed cries from the others, and +the rush ceased suddenly. It was all that Wenzel +required. He turned, and his long legs carried him +across the square and away into the friendly darkness, +while the bullying Red guards cowered back, shooting +indiscriminately from the cover of the protecting +doorway. +</p> + +<p> +There was no pursuit, and as Wenzel quickly drew +farther away the crackle of the shooting sounded +fainter, until suddenly it stopped, and the White +Knight knew that revenge for the death of Elizabeth's +cousin was now certain. +</p> + +<p> +He was well away, and rapidly drawing near the +Suspension Bridge. He stopped short as he +approached it, but there was not a soul to be seen, and +he continued on his way across it. In the centre he +halted again, and slipped the unconscious commissary +from his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +Gonnard was not dead. His heart was thumping +irregularly, but strongly, and even as Wenzel laid him +down the wounded man stirred, moaned with pain, and +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"My ankle! What has happened? My ankle, it +hurts. Where am I?" He spoke as though his mind +were in a haze. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel bent over to him and whispered in his ear: +"In the hands of the White Knight, Comrade Gonnard, +and to-day——" +</p> + +<p> +He heard the Communist gasp. There was a +moment's silence, tense and dramatic, then Gonnard +shrieked with horror. Wenzel clapped his hand roughly +over the mouth of the other, and the noise died away +to a faint gurgle. +</p> + +<p> +With the other hand Wenzel fumbled in his coat. +Always prepared for emergencies, there was a length +of rope in his pocket. Sternly and unemotionally he +adjusted a noose, and slipped it round the neck of the +commissary. The other end he tied to the steelwork +of the bridge. +</p> + +<p> +Easily, as though he were lifting a baby, he raised +the Communist up. Once again he whispered in his +ear: "The White Knight pays the debts of two +Hungarian officers, comrade." +</p> + +<p> +Then he dropped the helpless commissary toward +the water: Gonnard fell the length of the rope, +moaning. The noose tautened—the corpse swayed to and +fro like a pendulum—and with a set face, on which +there was not the slightest expression of pity or horror, +the White Knight passed on his way. In the country +of lawlessness there was but one law: "An eye for +an eye, a tooth for a tooth!" His merely the hand of +judgment—alas, the only hand! +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +"Suicide!" was the general verdict of the large +crowd which gathered round to watch the unusual +spectacle of a man hanging in mid-air, suspended from +the bridge. +</p> + +<p> +The news spread rapidly. Some one recognized the +corpse as that of a commissary. The rumour came +to the ears of the Council, the meeting was hurriedly +adjourned, and many of its members hastened to the +bridge. +</p> + +<p> +Some one pulled the body up. The pockets were +searched ... and the Communists glanced affrightedly +at one another. There was no need to explain the tiny +piece of carved wood which the searchers discovered. +</p> + +<p> +The white knight spoke for itself. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER XV</i> +</h2> + +<p> +When Elizabeth eventually awoke from her +last unsettled sleep she became conscious +that her body was cramped, aching in every +bone, and she hazily wondered why. Next she frowned, +for her eyes failed to recognize her surroundings. Then +she tried to flick from her face an unruly, annoying +hair, and not until she found it impossible to move her +arms did her mind become clear. +</p> + +<p> +All at once she remembered the events of the day +before—her abduction, her agonized wait through the +long hours for the return of her jailer—and finally she +recollected relaxing. After that she assumed she must +have fallen asleep. +</p> + +<p> +She still sat upright on the chair, the one and only +article of furniture in the attic other than an equally +rickety table—and an empty soap-box. Her mouth +caused her more terrible pain than she had ever +imagined existed, and she wondered how the hurt of it +could have allowed her to sleep. Her arms felt numb +and paralysed. +</p> + +<p> +Despite everything she felt a wave of exhilaration: +she was still unharmed, uncontaminated. It was almost +a good omen. +</p> + +<p> +This feeling did not last long, for gradually it +evaporated, a blank despair taking its place. There was no +means of knowing the time, but a faint suspicion of +chill in the air made her suspect it to be still early +morning. Even so, it meant that she had been missing +from the <i>château</i> for twelve or thirteen hours, sufficient +time to have confirmed the worst misgivings of her +father and of her fellow-refugees. +</p> + +<p> +Thoughts of her father hurt. His gentle soul would +suffer from the uncertainty of her fate. What would +he imagine had happened to her? Would he suspect +the truth? She endeavoured to persuade herself that +such a thought would be farthest from his mind, but +unfortunately she realized only too well that one of the +most possible solutions of her disappearance would be +what had actually occurred. +</p> + +<p> +What would the White Knight say? As not +infrequently happened, her thoughts turned toward her +two brief recollections of her rescuer. Extraordinarily +enough, each time she had met him they had remained +in pitch darkness, so her only memory of him was his +voice. +</p> + +<p> +The thought of him thrilled her. In thinking of him +who was known as the White Knight she became aware +of an extraordinary glow of warmth within her, as +though, at the mention of his name, there was kindled +an inward fire. Her blood pounded through her body +all the more hotly because of it, and, almost against +her will, her brain visioned dreams—light fairy +fancies which airily danced to the blithe tune of her +innermost desires. +</p> + +<p> +As yet she was unaware of the reason. In her life of +partial seclusion, her father and his work had occupied +the greater part of her thoughts, so that his alone would +not be the triumph when his book finally saw the light +of day. Her work and her encouragement had been +invaluable to him. +</p> + +<p> +With her day occupied, and her maternal instincts +satisfied in the loving care of her father, men had somehow +failed to find a place within the limit of her mental +horizon. Love, marriage, and motherhood had been +names only; to be venerated in due course admittedly, +but as yet relegated to some future time. +</p> + +<p> +She naïvely believed her interest in the White Knight +to be unexpressed thanks for his deliverance of her +father and herself from the clutches of the Communists, +and therefore it did not seem unusual that the memory +of the deep vibrant clarity of his voice should ring so +repeatedly in her ears. Strangely enough, the quality +of their voices was to each of them a revelation of the +other, for it had been the fearlessness, the steadiness, +the sweet cadence of Elizabeth's tone which had first +attracted the White Knight's attention, though +afterward her voice ceased to be remarkable because it +inevitably became an integral part of her charm and +beauty. +</p> + +<p> +She was convinced that, to judge by the little she +knew of him, he was all that an English gentleman +should be, and so she was wont to visualize him as +being tall, and owning more than his fair share of +strength, for had he not fought the swift Danube +current, landing them both in safety—a feat she had +previously believed impossible? +</p> + +<p> +He had been excellently educated; his cultured +voice assured her of that; his accent, the result of +four years' practice that he might converse worthily +with Zita, was irreproachable, his foreign mannerisms +discernible only to the acutest eye. +</p> + +<p> +Of his age she was more uncertain. Physically +she would have surmised that he was at the zenith +of manhood; in strategy and generalship he seemed +apparently older by a score of years. That this last +assumption might be correct she hated to admit, not +realizing that four tense years at the Front more than +made up for a thrice longer period lived under mor +peaceful conditions. +</p> + +<p> +As to his characteristics, she considered it scarcely +incumbent upon her to criticize one who risked his life +daily to aid the helpless nobility of a country against +which he had but lately been fighting, and in any event +she could not conceive that in such a man there could +be anything other than good. +</p> + +<p> +It was only about his looks that she was doubtful. +In her imagination she saw him with strong but +sympathetic blue eyes, possibly shadowed by slightly +heavy eyebrows. His hair, she felt, would be of a +nut-brown colour, alive with crisp, irregular curls, while +his face surely would be long, consistent with his +height. His nose undoubtedly was finely chiselled, +his chin round, firmly betraying the masterfulness of +its owner. +</p> + +<p> +The White Knight! How applicable was the name! +He was indeed a knight-errant, truly a 'White' +knight as opposed to the 'Reds.' Like a legendary +figure of the past, he might have arisen from the ashes +of forgotten heroes, have been a reincarnation of one +of the saintly king-warriors with whom the pages of +Hungary's history abound. +</p> + +<p> +Such was her dream-picture of him, such was the +cloak of perfection in which she had wrapped his +personality! +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +There was a sudden clamour in the street below, and +Elizabeth realized that for a brief time she had +forgotten her plight in contemplation of the White Knight. +</p> + +<p> +She heard a voice shrieking, "Long live the +Commune!" and shuddered. How long would the hated +Commune exist? Had not the Communists already +dragged their country into the lowest depths of +degradation, without wishing to exist solely for the +purpose of completing the ruin? During her stay in the +<i>château</i> she had learned the real meaning of Communism, +what it had done to her country, and to Russia also. +</p> + +<p> +She tried to struggle to her feet, but found that her +legs were lifeless. The rigid attitude of her sleep had +prevented the blood from circulating; when she tried +to stretch she found she could not move her limbs. +</p> + +<p> +Her under lip trembled slightly. Sleep banished, +dreams dissolved, once again the full realization of her +plight returned to her. Why had the Communist not +returned? How could she escape before he did? Her +eyes gleamed more brightly and her mouth tightened +to control the quivering muscles. Her courage returned +in full, overpowering even the knowledge of her +helplessness. Had she not struggled for hours the night +before till her wrists bled, fruitlessly endeavouring to +free her hands? Had she not worked her mouth till +it was swollen and sore to dispose of the gag, without +the slightest suggestion of success to encourage her? +</p> + +<p> +For all that she would try once again. Whatever she +might suffer now, it would be as nothing compared to +what she would have to endure should the commissary +return. Before anything, however, she realized it was +necessary to force her legs into activity again. +</p> + +<p> +She began by concentrating all her will-power to +fidget her toes about. For some time there was no +response, so she tried tightening the muscles of the +limbs with spasmodic jerks. The effort of doing this +caused her exquisite torture. Acute, tormenting pains +shot up and down the arteries, so that she had to bite +her lips to prevent a moan escaping. +</p> + +<p> +Again and again she worked her muscles so, till at +last feeling returned to her toes. After that her work +became easier, if more painful, until finally she felt she +could stand, and with a great effort braced herself up +to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +She had overestimated the strength of her legs. They +were unable to bear the weight of her body, and she fell +to the ground with a heavy crash which jarred every +nerve in her body, twisting her arms until she wondered +if either of them was broken. +</p> + +<p> +For ten minutes she remained as she had fallen, a +hundred different pains racking her body, while her +brain havered on the borderline of consciousness. Only +an indomitable will to refrain kept her from fainting. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of that time she recommenced her +exertions, but now she was in an even more awkward +position than before. There seemed only one way of +gaining her feet. Rolling to the wall she placed her +back to it, and pushing with her slowly reviving legs +gradually forced herself upward until she stood. +</p> + +<p> +She crossed to the window and looked down upon the +street below, but it was quieter. Evidently the crowd +who had just been noisily acclaiming the merits of the +Commune had departed for another quarter; there were +not more than half a dozen people in all to be seen, of +which number three were women and two children. +</p> + +<p> +The sight served to cheer her more than anything +else. She felt that if she could but escape from the +room she might yet gain a safer part of the city without +molestation. Yet—how to free her hands? +</p> + +<p> +Despairingly she gazed round the room. There +seemed nothing in any shape or form which could possibly +assist her. Obviously there was but one thing to do—to +continue twisting her wrists as much as possible in +the hope of finally loosening the handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps half an hour passed, but it became more +apparent that she was no freer than she had been at +first. She angrily chided herself on her woman's +weakness, confident that a man could have wrenched his +hands apart from sheer strength. +</p> + +<p> +She could feel her wrists bleeding again, the skin +bruised by the rasping of the material. She did not +know how much blood was escaping, but there was +enough to make her hands sticky, and she became afraid +that if the cloth should become saturated it might shrink. +</p> + +<p> +Feverishly she continued struggling, and for some +time without any signs of success, but suddenly her +thumb slipped through into a fold. She forced it higher +and still higher till it hurt, but all at once it was free. +The rest was easy. While her index finger struggled +to follow suit, she forced the material farther down the +hand, till a few seconds later her arms were free, and her +mouth too. +</p> + +<p> +Then she cried—not from pain or fear, but from +pure relief. Only a few seconds before she had believed +her task impossible, and then, unexpectedly, she had +succeeded. There remained now only the door. +</p> + +<p> +Drying her tears she approached it and caught hold +of the handle with both hands. Placing her feet against +the wall, she pulled, but the door held steadily, and +presently she had to stop to regain her breath, but for +only two minutes or so, when once again she took up +her position. +</p> + +<p> +Her hands turned on the handle; she pulled, and the +door swung open. Gonnard had thought it locked, but +the key had merely turned in the lock; the tumblers +had not moved. Elizabeth laughed, a trifle hysterically. +She had pulled so hard, when all she need have done +was to have walked out.... +</p> + +<p> +What did it matter? The way to freedom was before +her, and, stopping only to dust herself as far as possible, +and wipe away as much of the blood from her wrists +as she could, she crept cautiously down the steps and +into the street. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +It would have been difficult to decide which of the +three men walking toward the Château Juhusz was the +happiest. Apor would have sworn it to be himself. +During his brief imprisonment he had not been without +hope that the White Knight would rescue him, even if +he was more than fully aware of the difficulties which +his leader would be bound to encounter. +</p> + +<p> +This supreme confidence upheld him, right until +the time when he had fallen asleep in his cell. At the +Communists' threats, at the brutal jesting of his jailers, +he had merely laughed lightly. Somehow or other the +White Knight would rescue him! +</p> + +<p> +Because of his high spirits the reaction was all the +greater when, a few hours later, he awoke to find a +leering face bending over him. +</p> + +<p> +"Come along, my friend, get up." The words had +rung ominously to Apor's ear. +</p> + +<p> +"And why?" he had asked. The Red guard had +grinned. +</p> + +<p> +"Because why?" he had repeated. "Because Bela +Kun has just telephoned through and ordered you to be +taken at once to the Suspension Bridge to be dropped +over." +</p> + +<p> +"My God! But that would be murder. Surely I +am at least entitled to a trial?" +</p> + +<p> +The guard shrugged his shoulders. "It is none of +my business, comrade. Besides, what do you want a +trial for? The result would be the same." +</p> + +<p> +Apor could not deny it. As assistant commissary +he had seen more than enough of the methods of the +Communists to know how true was the remark. +</p> + +<p> +The blow had been a heavy one. Convinced that for +some mysterious reason the Communists had suddenly +changed their plans with regard to him, he had been +forced to realize how impossible it would be for the +White Knight to rescue him, and so, with a sinking +heart, he had resigned himself to fate, prepared to +meet his death as a man should. +</p> + +<p> +By the time the handcuffs were snapped upon his +wrists he had given up all hope of rescue, and though +he walked with a steady step there had been a bitter +smile upon his lips. He had not understood the reason +for the urgent need of his death—the Communists +knew, of course, of his connexion with the Whites, but +as far as he was then aware, they were not cognizant +of the fact that he was also a member of the White +Knight's band. +</p> + +<p> +So, in his own mind, Death had stood at his shoulder, +and yet, unbelievably, miraculously, he had been rescued. +Instead of being dead he was alive, and his heart +filled with a bubbling happiness. No longer need he +pretend; now he could openly declare himself a White, +and fight for the relief of his country from the clutches +of the Bolsheviks. +</p> + +<p> +Arnold, on his part, was filled with a sense of +satisfaction, and, better still, a pleasurable anticipation. +Satisfied, because Apor was safe, and pleased—more +than pleased—because in a few minutes' time he would +see Cecile again, would look into her eyes, where he +hoped to see the flame of welcome, of gladness, because +he was still safe and unhurt. +</p> + +<p> +Their love still remained unspoken, yet to themselves +neither disguised its existence, just as each recognized +that it should remain unrevealed until other times—better +times—when the Red octopus should be slaughtered. +</p> + +<p> +And Wenzel ... in one stroke he had fulfilled +his oath to Elizabeth and, by an ingenious plan, had +rescued Apor. The one puzzling aspect in the +drama—namely, how it was that Gonnard was in Budapest—did +not worry him for long. What mattered how he +came there? He had met his fate, and Elizabeth was +avenged. +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth! It was because he was near Elizabeth +that the White Knight was conscious of an infectious +gaiety in the air. Within a few minutes they would +reach the clearing. Then, while Apor and Arnold +went in, he would climb one of the bordering trees, and +with greedy eyes would watch every fleeting expression +which would cross her face, every graceful movement +of her body, while she walked the weedy gardens of +the <i>château</i> with Cecile, with Arnold, or with her +father. +</p> + +<p> +He was content just to watch her so, to worship her +from afar. Beyond that he knew he might never dare +venture. If once she saw him—his searing scars... +He visioned her face if that should ever happen, and +saw how it would twist into horror; how she would +shrink away in disgust. +</p> + +<p> +He forced these thoughts from his brain and +indulged in more roseate dreams. Arnold, he knew, +understood, and would diplomatically arrange that for +a short time she should wander where he could best +see her. Dear old Arnold! What did it matter to him +what happened to Hungary? What had been his reason +for helping Hungary? Only an innate pity for the +helpless, a gallant, old-fashioned quixotism, a love of +adventure, and, above all, friendship for the man who +was now his leader. That was all! Wenzel smiled to +himself. All, originally, but now Arnold had another +interest in Hungary. He had been rewarded. Well, he +deserved it. He had risked his life for Hungary, and +sooner or later, if all went well, he would pluck one of +her choicest blooms for himself. +</p> + +<p> +No brighter was the sun which bathed the country +in its benevolent smile than the thoughts of the three +men and the faces of two. Whatever his inward +thoughts, Wenzel's expression never changed. He +knew from past experience that, hideous as was his +face in repose, it became positively satanical when +he smiled, for then his face puckered up, his wounds +twisted into grotesque shapes, and to look upon him +thus was as if looking upon the visage of a satyr, a +mocking mask of demon-like cunning. +</p> + +<p> +They reached the edge of the clearing. With a +slight motion of his head Wenzel sent his two friends +forward, then climbed the branches of an adjacent tree, +from where he could see and yet remain unseen. +</p> + +<p> +To his impatient glance it seemed as if Apor and +Arnold lagged in their walk to the <i>château</i>, but at last +they disappeared within. Not long to wait now! A +few minutes more and he would see Elizabeth! Already +he knew every sweet expression by heart. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed hours before anything happened, though +actually it was but four to five minutes—just long +enough for an hysterical father to pour the story of +Elizabeth's disappearance into Arnold's horrified ears, +and for the tired and despondent searchers to confirm +and corroborate. +</p> + +<p> +Unsuspectingly Wenzel waited. He wondered why +Arnold had not yet succeeded in enticing Elizabeth +into the garden. Then from his leafy retreat he saw +Arnold hurrying toward him. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel's eyes narrowed and his nerves seemed to +tighten warningly. There was something in Arnold's +attitude, in his unusual walk and expression, which +prepared Wenzel for bad news. He quickly swung +himself down from the tree, and dropped even as +Arnold approached. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it, Arnold? There is something wrong?" +</p> + +<p> +Arnold's glance wavered and dropped. "There is, +Geoffrey," he said huskily. "I—I—Elizabeth Kiss +has—disappeared." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel battled with his emotions. He felt a tigerish +fury arising, but knew that firstly he must hear all and +not let his temper cloud his reason. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me!" he said curtly. +</p> + +<p> +"She told Cecile that she was going out to pick wild +flowers as usual—that was some time between four and +five o'clock. Cecile suggested going as well, but +Elizabeth laughingly commanded her to finish the picture +she was painting, and went alone. +</p> + +<p> +"By six o'clock she had not returned. Imre Kiss +began to fidget, and when at seven she was still missing +he insisted on a search-party. +</p> + +<p> +"They divided into groups. One group headed +towards the Budapest road, and just near found a big +bunch of flowers lying carelessly on the ground, as if +they had been suddenly dropped. That was all! All +night long they have searched, and there is still no sign +of her." +</p> + +<p> +"The Devil! What does it mean?" Suddenly +Wenzel jerked his head forward. "Wheel tracks, +footprints, were there marks of any kind on the road?" +</p> + +<p> +Arnold laughed bitterly: "No one thought of +looking. I asked the same question." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel felt his blood seething: "Oh, heavens! +What idiots, what stupendous fools! Hell! For what +are brains made if people do not use them? Fools! +Fools!" He clenched his hands in the agony of his +thoughts. "And you, Arnold, what do you think?" +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven only knows what to think! So many +things might have happened. A band of roving +Communists may have seen her—a—a—Hades! Geoffrey, +I hate to say it, but I must—a licentious +lunatic—Heaven alone knows!" +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel bowed his head and groaned slightly. "Oh, +I hope not. I have not said anything to you, Arnold, +but ... I can never hope for anything else, yet just to +watch her from a distance..." Suddenly his mood +changed again. His passionate temper—born the day +he first saw the foul ravishes of the Communists, and +aggravated by the mis-aimed bullet which had seared +perilously near his brain—burst its always unstable +barriers, and Arnold saw deep into his leader's soul, +and for the first time saw how near twisting it had +been but for Elizabeth. He realized also, if anything +should happen to her, how it still might warp. +</p> + +<p> +With fierce, angry words Wenzel blasphemed his +Maker, reviled the world, and even cursed his parents +who had brought him into it. For a brief space he +was insane. There was no one, not even Arnold himself, +who did not come beneath the flail of his wrath, +and Arnold flinched before the torrent of words which +Wenzel released. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he became calmer, and in the end he +apologized in halting, broken sentences. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sorry, Arnold, but—four years I dreamed +and planned—for four years I dodged bullets, praying +to God that I might live—I loved Zita so, she was my +beacon, the one star in the black, overcast sky—full +of hope I journeyed to Budapest, only to find her +dead—dead, Arnold, before my eyes, killed simply and +solely by horror.... +</p> + +<p> +"Can you wonder that my brain may have given +way? Since then I have seen worse sights: Szamuelly +hanging innocent men just for the love of killing—gouging +out their eyes for the pleasure of torture—burying +his victims alive for the sake of brutality. +</p> + +<p> +"Then God was kind to me—I met Elizabeth. I +can never even let her see me, yet—once again I have +found a star to guide me, and if anything happens to +her too, if the Communists have—— Arnold, I must +not give way." He stopped, his lips moved, while his +teeth bit into them. +</p> + +<p> +"There, I am calm now.... Arnold, listen!" His +voice was crisper, once again he was the White +Knight, the leader. "That road, near which Elizabeth +presumably disappeared, is the road to Budapest. It +is quite possible that Elizabeth has been carried away +to that city. It is but the barest possibility, I admit, +yet there must be no stone left unturned, no avenue +which must be left unexplored, to find her—safe +or—or otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +"While I go to Budapest you must go the other way. +Francis can tour the countryside between Budapest and +here; Apor from here onward. +</p> + +<p> +"If you should find her, meet me to-night, fifty +yards from the Tunnel, Pest Bank, on the left-hand +side of the road, at nine-thirty sharp. If I am not there +within forty minutes meet me the following evening. +Now go. I shall try to get that early train back to Buda." +</p> + +<p> +With two seconds to spare Wenzel caught the overcrowded +train to the capital. It meant lying on the +roof, but as there were many doing the same he was +in no way conspicuous. Not very long afterward he +was once again in the lions' den. +</p> + +<p> +Outside the station there was a crowd, gathered in +several groups. Wenzel could see that a spirit of +excitement prevailed; there were many individual +speakers, gesticulating less confidently, for they were +being heckled from every direction. He would have +passed quickly on his way, anxious to get into the +heart of the city, from where he intended to commence +his search for Elizabeth, but suddenly his attention +was arrested by the mention of the White Knight. +</p> + +<p> +Even the most secret sessions of the Soviet Council +were apt to be noised abroad, and more than once, by +joining Communistic gatherings, he had garnered +information which had subsequently proved invaluable +to him. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, comrades, despite all the boasting of the +Supreme Council that they would soon have detectives +on the track of this White Knight, this protector of +the <i>bourgeoisie</i>, this Enemy of the Commune, as he calls +himself, he has been at work again, has flaunted the +feeble efforts of the detectives, and scarcely less than +twelve hours ago had the audacity to rescue again a +prisoner from under the very noses of the Red guards. +</p> + +<p> +"Bah! The fools! Do you know the story, friends—would +you like to hear the details? Eh! I thought +as much. Yesterday morning an assistant commissary, +named Apor, was arrested by members of the +counter-espionage. Apor was a White spy. He was thrown +into prison, into one of the Parliament House cells. +You might have thought that he would have been safe +enough there. So would I. But listen. +</p> + +<p> +"Late last night our worthy Dictator learned that +Apor was more than a White spy. He discovered +that the assistant commissary was one of the White +Knight's band. That was news, was it not, friends? +What did he do? What you or I would have done, +and wisely. +</p> + +<p> +"He knew the White Knight would try and rescue +his follower, so there and then he telephoned through +to Parliament House and ordered the guards to throw +this Apor into the Danube. Yes, all of you, that was +Bela Kun's order, and no one can say it was wrong. +</p> + +<p> +"In less than five minutes the Red guards left +Parliament House with their prisoner. They had +scarcely got outside the door of the building when two +of them were stunned, the third one shot dead, and +Apor, the traitor, the spy, was rescued!" +</p> + +<p> +His next words were lost in the fierce growl which +arose from the crowd. Question after question was +asked of the speaker, but he stood mute, holding up +his hand for silence, and presently, recognizing that he +still had more to say, the audience quietened down. +</p> + +<p> +"That was not all!" With fierce emphasis the man +flung the words at the surrounding crowd, and as they +sunk into the brains of the people there was a tense, +dramatic silence. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he did more than that! This White Knight, +disdainful of the Commune and the weak efforts to +catch him, hanged a commissary from the middle of +the Suspension Bridge." +</p> + +<p> +Evidently the man had a sense of the dramatic. +He swayed his listeners as he willed, and Wenzel saw +a grin puckering the corners of his lips as the crowd +obeyed his unspoken commands. +</p> + +<p> +The people raged and stormed. "Death to the +White Knight! Search him out! Hang him!" That +and more they yelled and shouted, all the while Wenzel +wondered the reason for the enigmatic smile. Evidently +the speaker had an axe to grind. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel was soon to know. "Now, comrades, if +Szamuelly were allowed a free hand..." So that +was it! A tout for Szamuelly. Szamuelly the murderer +was not yet satisfied. More and more blood must flow +to appease his appetite. +</p> + +<p> +A tiny pin-prick of murderous hatred danced in +the White Knight's eyes. Not yet had he forgotten +Bira, and now Gonnard was out of the way. But first +Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +Now that he was in Budapest, where in the name of +creation could he look for her? She might be in any +one of a thousand buildings, even assuming that she +were indeed within the limits of the city. She might +be to the north, south, east, or west. +</p> + +<p> +At any rate, for what little good it might be, he had +a fixed plan in his head. In the morning, which even +now was nearly over, he would call in at every +coffee-house frequented by the Council and higher members +of the Commune. There he might pick up scraps of +conversation or a slight clue, anything which might +suggest any connexion with the disappearance of +Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +In the coffee-houses, he knew, the talk was apt to +veer round to women. If they all failed he would try +the beer-taverns and the wine-bars, where the men +conversed together even more openly still of their +women-folk, and at one of them what would be more natural, +or unnatural, according to which way one thinks, than +that the kidnapper should boast of his capture? +</p> + +<p> +The spouter outside the station continued to rant of +Szamuelly. It was evident to Wenzel that he would +do no good staying where he was, and so he carelessly +moved off, and was presently away from the crowds, +once again his mind reverting to Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +With his thoughts centred upon her he began his +weary search. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER XVI</i> +</h2> + +<p> +There are coincidences in real life which far +outrival their nearest cousins in fiction. Life is +a paradox, controlled by mysterious forces of +Nature which even the most learned of students does +not dare to criticize. +</p> + +<p> +Coincidence it may have been, yet there is a more +subtle explanation. On that morning two minds were +fixed upon each other. Wenzel, as he moved from +coffee-house to coffee-house, was aware of one thing, +was obsessed by one thought, only—Elizabeth—he +must find Elizabeth; and so his brain disseminated +his innermost resolves and desires, and upon the wings +of Nature's electric waves, for ever radiating through +the ether, were shed Wenzel's mental longings. +</p> + +<p> +On her part Elizabeth crept through the streets of +Budapest with a furtive air. She wandered hither and +thither, up one street and down the next, only knowing +that she sought a station, or a neighbourhood she knew, +but afraid to ask, to question passers-by, lest she should +draw attention to herself. +</p> + +<p> +Despair was in her attitude. Even if she reached a +station she had no money with which to journey back +to the <i>château</i> again. In the sullen, uncouth faces +which paraded the streets of the Communist stronghold, +where was one which she could recognize, where +was one, perhaps kindly and sympathetic, to which she +might turn for succour? +</p> + +<p> +There seemed not one. In the days of the Red +Terror Budapest was safe only for the Terrorists, the +Red guards, and their rabid supporters. The rest +had fled or else kept within the scanty security of their +single rooms. +</p> + +<p> +The very environment of the town filled her with +a nervous dread, brave and fearless though she was +ordinarily. In her plight there was but one upon +whom her thoughts turned. The White Knight! If +only he knew! +</p> + +<p> +So, as she wandered aimlessly, she wondered what +he would think of her. What would he do when he +discovered her disappearance? What could he do? +She smiled bitterly to herself. There was nothing. In +all Hungary how could he possibly surmise that she was +in Budapest? +</p> + +<p> +She encouraged herself to think of him as she continued +her search for—what? She herself scarcely knew. +</p> + +<p> +Like magnet and steel they gradually drew together. +Neither of them aware of the fact, their thoughts were, +attracting one another, picking up the broadcast +messages, until suddenly, as each turned a corner, they +met with a force which sent her reeling to the wall, and +his hat to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel stared at her with a blank amazement. Like +a miracle she was all at once before him, not a vision +of her, but the real her, panting for breath. His eyes +lit with a glare, a flash of triumph, of love; his lips +moved to shout out her name in a glad welcome; but +just in time he remembered. +</p> + +<p> +He dared not do so. She must never know him for +what he was, never realize that she had met the White +Knight face to face; for his romance would be broken, +never to be mended. He felt the horror with which +she would always in future regard him, for, with a +bitterness which cut into his heart, he saw it already +rising in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +He did not misread her expression. A cold wave +of terror swept over her as she recognized the face of +the man who had looked up at her window the night +before. Too vividly she remembered the scars, the +evilness of his looks. She shrank away from him, +sick and faint lest he should take notice of her. Even +Gonnard before this man—and at that moment she +prayed to God that He might send the White Knight +to save her. +</p> + +<p> +He saw on the other side of the road a man, whom +he knew to be a journalist, eyeing them queerly. With +a vile oath he crammed his cap back on his head again, +and spat on the ground. With a leering glance he +moved on. +</p> + +<p> +Out of the corner of his eye he saw the newspaper +man turn away, so he looked back. Elizabeth was +hurrying off as quickly as her legs could carry her. +Wenzel swung round on his heels. He must not lose +her again. +</p> + +<p> +While he discreetly followed her through the streets, +Wenzel puzzled over the strange problem of her +sudden appearance. The last thing he expected was to +find her at liberty. At the same time his heart was +troubled with doubts—not of her, but of what horrors +might have happened to her in the meantime. +</p> + +<p> +As the time passed, and the chase continued, along +road after road, he was forced to the conclusion that she +was wandering aimlessly. She was certainly making +for no specific object, for first she headed to the north +or the east, then to the south or the west. +</p> + +<p> +It was not until he saw her stop by a communal +restaurant, and look inside with a longing expression, +that he remembered that in all probability she was +without money. He saw her hesitate, move on, and +then retrace her footsteps. Once again she faltered +before the open door. Then with a determined +movement she went within, and he groaned. +</p> + +<p> +Not knowing that Elizabeth, starved and miserable, +and unable to stand any longer the pangs of hunger +which gripped her, had decided to throw herself on the +tender mercies of the proprietor, he was convinced that +his supposition with regard to her financial stability +was wrong, though he knew that she was doomed to +disappointment. Only those with the red food tickets +of the manual labourers or the blue ones of the +intellectual workers were allowed to dine at the communal +restaurants, or even buy food at the shops. +</p> + +<p> +Two minutes elapsed. He frowned, imagining that, +after all, she must have obtained the necessary tickets, +and that she was feeding. Disturbed, he left his +retreat—the shelter of an empty shop window—and took two +steps toward the restaurant. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Elizabeth emerged, dazed and +bewildered by the truth. In perhaps kinder tones +than he had used for a long time the proprietor had +explained that matters were no longer as they used to +be—it was not of his own choice: in the old days he +had served ladies and gentlemen, and liked them well. +No, he dared not serve her. He had a wife and child; +if he were thrown into prison for surreptitiously feeding +a <i>bourgeois</i>—he asked her pardon for using the +word—what would become of them? +</p> + +<p> +As she came out Elizabeth felt the tears springing +to her eyes. Here, in Budapest, in a big middle-Europe +city, the capital of a large country—even then being +carved up by the peacemakers in Paris—her plight was +no better than that of a castaway on a desert island. +Surrounded by food of a kind, yet unable to eat any +of it! Passing thousands of people, yet not daring to +speak to one of them! Scarcely forty miles from the +<i>château</i>, yet without the slightest possibility of getting +back there! +</p> + +<p> +A bubble of hysterical laughter forced itself to her +throat: then, surprised at her own humour, she looked +up, and her mirth died away. As quickly as Wenzel +had retreated to his shelter again, her sharp eyes had +seen and recognized him. +</p> + +<p> +Instinct gave her an inkling of the truth: he was following +her. The human vulture had scented his prey, and +was merely waiting the opportunity to pounce upon her. +</p> + +<p> +The knowledge threw her into a state of panic. +Obsessed by the terror with which the man of the scars +inspired her, she hurried from the spot, oblivious of +everything except the fact that somehow or other she +must get away from him. +</p> + +<p> +Just before she had been ready to drop with fatigue; +now the startling discovery supplied her with fresh +vigour. Forgetting that her feet were sore, that blisters +were developing, that her legs were leaden, and her +wrists smarting, she blindly threaded the streets in an +effort to shake off her pursuer. +</p> + +<p> +So quickly did she travel, indeed, that she very +nearly succeeded. Not realizing that she had seen him, +Wenzel still kept at a reasonable distance, and thus +came to a choice of roads, with no inkling as to which +one she had taken, for both streets curved inwardly, +thus effectively hiding the continuity of each one. +</p> + +<p> +He felt the first warning of temper, a curious +constriction in his throat, but resolutely he conquered +himself. He realized that he must take a chance. She +had come from the road on the left. Hurrying as she +was, he felt it would have been natural for her to have +taken the nearer one to her, and so he too took the +same one, increasing his pace considerably in an effort +to catch her up. +</p> + +<p> +He was wrong. Elizabeth had not even realized +that there were two roads. She had seen one ahead of +her, and had crossed to it, but, had she known, it would +have been all the same. The street was a crescent, +curving back to meet itself, and so for the second time +that day they met face to face. +</p> + +<p> +She faltered and stopped; a moan escaped her lips. +All her efforts for nothing, and with the realization of +her failure returned a consciousness of her weariness, +and knowledge that she could continue no longer. +</p> + +<p> +She leaned against one of the trees which lined the +street, her breast heaving with despair and lack of +breath. One hand clutched her throat, the other she +rested over her heart as if to stay its wild beating, +and thus she waited, physically unable to continue her +flight. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel read her mind, realized that she had reached +the limit of her tether, and was glad, for in the +meantime he had formed a plan in his head, a scheme by +which he could secure her safety, and yet not have her +suspect that he was the White Knight. +</p> + +<p> +With a rapid glance in each direction he observed +that there were but three people to be seen, all women. +He lurched up to Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, my little chicken, a fine chase you have led +me." His voice was rasping and uncultured, and never +for a moment did Elizabeth connect it with another +voice of which, even now, the memory echoed in her +ears. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him scornfully. At her steady glance +Wenzel felt a glow of admiration, and at that moment +loved her more than ever. Her quivering under lip +betrayed the fact that her heart was sick with fear, but +otherwise her attitude was one of defiance, of cool +disregard for his blustering arrogance. +</p> + +<p> +He shrugged his shoulders. "Too proud to speak +to me, are you, my fine lady? Well, that does not +worry me. When you hear what I have to say you +will soon change your tone." He lowered his voice: +"Listen, I have news for you from the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +"The White Knight!" There was a marvellous +transformation, a bright light dawned in her eyes, and +her face was suffused with a newly found relief and +joy. "You bring me news of the White Knight? God +be praised! How knew he that I was in Budapest?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because he saw you early this morning, and sent +me after you. Why did you hurry away from me?" +</p> + +<p> +His question seemed to awaken suspicions in her +mind, for she drew herself up slightly. "I will tell +that to your master, the White Knight," she said coldly, +and then asked: "What is the message you bring me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Huh! Is that all you have to say? After all my +trouble following you round the city and awaiting a +convenient opportunity to speak to you! Bah! I have +a good mind not to tell you." +</p> + +<p> +Instantly she was apologetic. "You will forgive +me?" she said prettily, and Wenzel had to turn his +eyes away so that she should not see into them and +recognize the thoughts behind. "I—I have been +frightened." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he answered surlily, "I suppose so. He +said that you were to come with me and I should take +you to him." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" She clasped her hands together. "Then +I shall be able actually to see him? God be praised! I +thought I was lost, and yet for the second time he has +come to my rescue. Where is he?" +</p> + +<p> +"That's none of your business. You wait and ask +him yourself. In the meantime, come with me." +</p> + +<p> +"I am ready," she said simply. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel himself did not know the neighbourhood +in which they were, but with the bump of locality +strongly developed he proceeded in what he believed +to be the direction where a week ago he had found +new headquarters. In the heart of the roughest district +of Pest it was there he believed he would be least +suspected and least conspicuous. Already he had seen +in the same street many faces which, if not as brutal +and terrifying as his, were at least more decadent and +bestial, more sensuous and cunning. +</p> + +<p> +He recognized it as a risk to take Elizabeth there, +for she was too beautiful not to be noticed, but, once +in his room, he knew there was less prospect of +interference, and less likelihood of being detected by a +chance detective or spy, all of whom were too busy +raking in the <i>bourgeoisie</i> and magnates from the better +parts of the town to worry about the criminal quarters, +especially when, in the present lawless times, their +interference meant, more than ever, death. +</p> + +<p> +The journey was long, and as the time passed vague +suspicions occurred to her that everything was not as +her momentary optimism had suggested, and in that +spirit she began to see the situation in a different light. +</p> + +<p> +The man by her side had not once mentioned her +name. Certainly he had said he was from the White +Knight, but what proof had she that he really was? +She had heard from Arnold and Francis that the White +Knight was known and hated throughout the +Communist community of Budapest, but on the other hand +more than revered in the circles of the persecuted. +</p> + +<p> +It was therefore, she argued with herself, not +impossible that her present escort, calculating from her +attitude that she was being pursued, and perhaps not +realizing that he himself was the guilty one, had craftily +used the name, hoping that it would act as a password +to her confidence. +</p> + +<p> +More and more she became uneasy, and when she +glanced up at the scowling face of her guide all her +terror of him returned. Suddenly she stopped, and +when he looked round questioned him. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did not the White Knight himself come after me?" +</p> + +<p> +There was grim humour in her words which +unfortunately he alone was able to appreciate. +</p> + +<p> +"Huh! So you are suspicious of me, are you, my +fine lady? For why do I work for this spawn of Satan, +this <i>bourgeois</i>, the White Knight? Only because he +pays me good money—money which I spend to have +a merry life. There is nothing else to live for in these +days but money. He pays me well, pretty one, but +so would Comrade Bela Kun. I could give him a lot of +information. He would not be suspicious of me, nor +insult me with sneering glances and haughty airs. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did not the White Knight himself run after +you? Perhaps he knew it would be a long chase—though +his legs are longer than mine." He laughed +at his own joke, then leered into her face so that she +shrank back. "What do you take him for? An idiot, +a fool with the brains of a babe? If the White Knight +ventured into the street he would be torn to bits. +Now follow me again if you want to see him." +</p> + +<p> +Without another word, without a look to see whether +she was keeping up with him, he strode on, and almost +at once Elizabeth caught him up. There was so much +truth in his words. Not only that, but with a queer +feeling of constriction at her heart she realized that a +false move on her part might throw the mysterious +Englishman into the hands of his enemies. Supposing +through her the White Knight were betrayed...? +</p> + +<p> +The neighbourhood became more shabby, somehow +reminiscent, and with a shock Elizabeth recognized the +street. They were passing by the building in which she +had been imprisoned the previous evening. +</p> + +<p> +Despite herself, doubts again began to arise in her +mind. That she should be brought to the same street +was too much a coincidence. With a wrenching pain +at her heart it seemed to her that, too late, she saw +through the whole plot. The commissary, having +discovered her flight, had sent a friend out to search for +her, and, like an innocent child, she had believed that +the man—of whom instinctively she had been afraid—was +an emissary of the White Knight. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she reasoned to herself that the White +Knight would never put his faith in such an evil person +as the man with the scars, and with that thought she +became conscious that it was now too late for her to +escape. +</p> + +<p> +The knowledge proved too much. Wenzel heard +her gasp, and suddenly realized that she was fainting; +so with a rapid movement he put his arm tightly round +her waist, and holding her upright by sheer strength +forced her on until at last he came to his destination, +and turned into a dark and evil-smelling doorway where +Elizabeth collapsed into his arms. +</p> + +<p> +More a result of exhaustion than anything else, +her brief swoon was soon over, and she revived just +as Wenzel tenderly laid her on a decrepit bed which +stood in a dark corner, scarcely remaining upright. +</p> + +<p> +She sat up weakly. "You cur, oh, you cur!" She +spat the words out with a fierce intensity, and two +bright red spots glowed in her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel was amazed at the reception. Not for a +moment suspecting the trend which her thoughts +had taken, not even aware that she had been near +the neighbourhood before, he could not conjecture +what her unexpected words represented, but if he did +not know the wherefore of them, he understood their +significance and saw how he could take advantage of +them. +</p> + +<p> +"Ho, ho, my fine lady, more suspicions?" He +laughed mockingly. +</p> + +<p> +"You have lied to me!" she panted breathlessly: +"you do not know the White Knight; you are no +gallant helper of his. Fool that I was not to +understand," she continued bitterly. "You are a friend of +the man who kidnapped me. Oh, Heaven, how cruel, +how cruel! To get away safely once, only to be +captured again." She faltered, and, that he should not +see that her discovery was more than she could bear, +turned her head away. +</p> + +<p> +A fierce glow of relief flooded the whole of his body. +In a few words she herself had answered a question +which he would never have dared to ask. Safe and +sound, untouched and unhurt! In his emotion he +laughed aloud, and Elizabeth shuddered, taking it to +mean a confirmation of her accusation. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time her words gave him the clue he +needed as to what had happened, and also assured +him that she would never, never suspect the truth. +He would play up in earnest to the part which she +had allotted him, and so he spat upon the floor. +</p> + +<p> +"Ho, ho! So you are quick at putting two and +two together, are you, my dear lady? You have made +five of it this time. You are right up to a point. You +were missed—and not by the White Knight, oh, no—and +I was sent to look for you. +</p> + +<p> +"But he won't see you again—not yet, anyway. You +are far too pretty, my dear. Why should I go to all +that trouble for nothing? It isn't every day I can pick +up a fine prize like you for the asking. I am going to +keep you for myself. +</p> + +<p> +"You have heard of the White Knight, have you? +I thought the bait would work." He grinned. "Well, +well, the nearest you will see of the White Knight for +some time now is the one in the box over there. While +I am gone to tell my friend how I lost you, you can +work out a few chess problems and see whether the +white knight can prevent his queen being checkmated. +I shall be back—later." With a roar of significant +laughter he walked from the room, and this time +Elizabeth heard the key turn unmistakably in the lock. +</p> + +<p> +Her soul wilted, for whatever fear she had felt of +Gonnard was infinitesimal compared with the terror +which she now experienced. There was only one thing +which prevented her giving way to the hopeless despair +that gripped her in its vice. The few words which he +had spoken had flashingly supplied her with a possible +scheme of escape, and, only waiting till the sound of +his footsteps had completely faded away, she leaped +from her bed, prepared to risk her life on one throw +of the dice. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER XVII</i> +</h2> + +<p> +A lurking shadow whistled sibilantly as +Wenzel approached, and the White Knight, +recognizing its low note, knew that Arnold had +kept his appointment. +</p> + +<p> +"No news for you, Geoffrey." Arnold's voice was +full of sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel laughed happily. "But I have, old man," +he announced. "I have discovered her. Listen, walk +along with me and I will tell you everything." And +so, while they walked, talking carelessly, yet withal +keeping a wary eye open for Red guards and the +Terrorists, Wenzel retailed the story of his chance +meeting with Elizabeth and the subsequent happenings. +</p> + +<p> +"And now, this is where you come in. When I go +back there I shall play up to my part, and torture her +mentally so that she will never believe me anything +other than the worst specimen of a Communist on earth. +</p> + +<p> +"About twenty minutes later you will burst in. +There must be a grand battle, and in the end you will +give me an upper-cut and I shall be <i>hors de combat</i>. +Then you can hurry her away, and the deed will be +done. Make up some tale or other as to how you +discovered her. +</p> + +<p> +"Only one thing, Arnold. Never, under any +circumstances, must she ever suspect that I am the White +Knight. If you had but seen her expression when she +looked me full in the face!..." +</p> + +<p> +In silence they walked along toward their destination, +until at last Wenzel halted. +</p> + +<p> +"Look, Arnold, you had better have a drink while +you are waiting. Give me about a quarter of an hour, +and then follow." +</p> + +<p> +They parted with a handshake, and while Arnold +dropped into an illicit beer-tavern Wenzel passed on +to where he had left Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +There was no light in the room, but he could hear +the sound of her breathing. He struck a match and +illuminated a half-burned candle, which, stuck in the +neck of an empty wine-bottle, occupied a place of +honour on an old soap-box in the middle of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth was on the bed, gazing defiantly at him. +</p> + +<p> +He laughed coarsely. "Well, my little canary, are +you glad I have returned?" +</p> + +<p> +She did not reply, but continued to gaze at him in a +steadfast manner. +</p> + +<p> +He advanced toward her with an ugly glare. "Sulking, +are you? I know what to do with perverse women." He +moved another step nearer to her, his attitude +became more menacing, but still there was no sign of +fear on her face, and he thrilled with admiration at her +bravery. +</p> + +<p> +"Speak, you, or by God! I will choke the breath out +of your body with my fingers," and he waved his hands +before her. +</p> + +<p> +"A gentleman," she said at last, "would take off his +hat in the presence of a lady." +</p> + +<p> +He burst into a bellow of rude laughter. "Do you +call yourself a lady? Do you know what I have called +you to all my friends? I have told them you are nothing +but a——" +</p> + +<p> +Before the fateful word was out of his mouth she was +stung into activity. With faring cheeks she sprang up +from the bed, her hand flashed upward, and there was a +sharp report as it came into contact with his face. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes sparkled. It was just what he would have +had her do. Still, he had a part to play. With a roar +of rage he grabbed hold of her in his arms and pressed +her to him. +</p> + +<p> +He felt her shudder convulsively, and tightened his +muscles in expectation of the struggle which he believed +she would put up. In that he was unexpectedly +surprised. Her hand strayed to his side, fumbled there +for a moment, then dropped listlessly down again, and +she remained passive within his grasp. +</p> + +<p> +He looked down upon her face, slightly bewildered +by her lack of resistance. Her eyes were closed, and he +wondered whether she had fainted in horror, but even +as he looked they flashed open. +</p> + +<p> +There was a quizzical expression within them, a +curious sense of elation; and suddenly he became +conscious of a feeling of uneasiness. It was almost as +if she had deliberately played for this moment. +</p> + +<p> +Once again he looked into the depths of her eyes +and saw therein a mocking devil which gibbered at +and scorned him. A tempting, overpowering sensation +gripped hold of him. Flashingly it occurred to him that +never again in his life would he hold her quiescent in +his arms. Her lips were there, so red and inviting, so +near to his. +</p> + +<p> +He knew it was the last thing he should have ever +dreamed of doing, it being far from his nature to take +advantage of a woman in his power, but his leaping blood, +hot with a fire of passion lit by her glance and her +position in his arms, mounted to his brain: the next moment +he bent over her and pressed his lips gently upon hers. +</p> + +<p> +It might have been any time from five to ten seconds +that they remained thus; then, with a moan, she +wrenched her arms upward and, placing her hands +upon his face, pushed with all her might and forced +him away from her. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly he released hold of her, so she drew away +from him and tremblingly sat upon the bed, her fingers +upon her lips. Yet her expression was not one of +loathsome horror as he had expected; instead it was one of +bewilderment. +</p> + +<p> +He wondered why, because he was not to know that +during that long kiss Elizabeth had received a surprise. +She had read his expression, had seen quickly what +was going to happen, and had been unable to prevent it. +His burning lips had come into contact with hers, and +she had expected from them a bestial, sensuous kiss. +Instead their pressure had been soft and loving, their +contact caressing. +</p> + +<p> +After that momentary pause there was a dramatic +interruption, a pounding on the door, the calling of +gruff voices, and the next moment six Terrorists burst +into the room, Gunzi leading them. The White Knight +knew then that he had reached the end of his race, that +capture, imprisonment, and death were ahead of him. +</p> + +<p> +He leaped for the door, and quicker than the eye +could follow his fist had lifted once, twice, and two of +the Red guards reeled backward with a grunt of pain; +then his hand flashed to his hip-pocket, where reposed +a loaded revolver, but just as his fingers touched its +ready butt something dug into his stomach, and he saw +that Gunzi, the detective from Aszod, had him covered. +</p> + +<p> +With a shrug of his shoulders he resigned himself +to his fate. He had expected it to come sooner or later, +and now that it had arrived... Only one thing pained +him. Elizabeth would discover that he was the White +Knight. He had hoped to remain but a mythical figure +in her memory, one of whom she could dream. Now, if +ever she remembered him, it would be only to shudder. +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi spoke. Turning to Elizabeth he asked: +"Is this the man?" +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, the man who stands there, +a prisoner in your hands, is the man for whom the +Commune has long searched—the White Knight!" +</p> + +<p> +During his adventures Wenzel had succeeded in +schooling his expression; whatever his thoughts, they +remained secret, being mirrored neither upon his +features nor in his eyes, but at this his control gave way. +He could not believe the evidence of his ears—Elizabeth, +the woman whom he had twice saved from worse than +death, to betray him thus into the hands of his enemies! +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to him that he must be in the throes of +a violent, unpleasant nightmare, and, as if to awaken +himself, he shouted: "You lie! You lie! I am a good +Communist, me! Believe her not, comrades; she only +seeks revenge——" +</p> + +<p> +"But who denies it?" interrupted Gunzi smoothly. +"Of course she seeks revenge, and rightly so. Who +are you, friend, to insult such a worthy member of +the Commune? For your very threats to her she seeks +revenge." +</p> + +<p> +He could not understand Gunzi's words. "What +mean you—threats? What have I done to this woman +that she should lie about me?" His voice was hoarse, +not that his race was ended, but because Elizabeth, of +all people, had been the one to betray him. +</p> + +<p> +Her ingratitude was beyond his comprehension; it +was too ghastly that this—this vile betrayal should +be her thanks for everything he had done for her and +hers, as also for others of her country-people. +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi, the rat-faced, smiled derisively: "You did +not threaten her, my friend—you did not, then, send +her—this?" From his pocket he pulled out a tiny +carved piece of wood, a white knight, all-betraying, +all-accusing. "You did not, I suppose, send her this as +a threat, because she is a good Communist, because +she would not give way to your evil suggestions, eh, +my friend?" He turned to Elizabeth: "He is but +a craven fellow after all; I begin to wonder if he is +indeed the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth laughed scornfully: "Is not his letter, +his threat, proof enough? Besides, doubtless he hides +in one of his pockets another such proof of his <i>bourgeois</i> +proclivities." +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi smiled softly: "A good suggestion!" He +plunged his hands into Wenzel's pockets. In the first +two there was nothing, but when the detective tried +another pocket, on the left-hand side, he laughed +triumphantly as he pulled out another small piece of +carved wood. Line for line it was identical with the +one Elizabeth had sent him. Side by side Gunzi placed +them on the palm of his hand, and Wenzel drew in +his breath with a hiss of fury. Like two peas from a +pod, neither differed from its twin by even a fraction of +an inch. Mutely they convicted him. They would be +proof enough for Korvin-Klein. +</p> + +<p> +Yet how had it got there? Just as Wenzel knew that +Gunzi's words were lies, lies to weave around him a +mesh of evidence from which it would be impossible +for him to escape, so was he positive that half an hour +ago every one of his pockets had been empty of all but +money, a revolver, a handkerchief, and finally a key +to his room. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he realized the truth, and his head bowed +with the anguish of his thoughts. Elizabeth's eyes, her +expression of triumphant manœuvre, her failure to +struggle when he had first grasped her in his arms, the +slight fumbling of her hand on his waist, finally his +suspicions that she had deliberately encouraged him +to do what he had done—now he understood. The +whole story was an open book before him. Elizabeth +herself had dropped the white knight into his pocket, +just as Elizabeth had weaved the plot which was to be +his undoing. +</p> + +<p> +But Gunzi was speaking to her, and Wenzel listened, +his heart sick with sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +"Here you are, my girl; here is the reward for +capturing the White Knight. Bela Kun told me to +give it you." He laughed sourly: "You did well to +mention it in your letter to him." +</p> + +<p> +So she had written to Bela Kun! His temper, ever +hovering near the surface, for the second time that day +broke beyond control. With a flash of his wrist he +knocked the pistol from the hand of the Red guard +who had taken Gunzi's place, and it clattered to the +ground. +</p> + +<p> +Almost at once three other guards seized him, but +he shook them off almost as easily as he would have +flicked a fly from his sleeve. Gunzi stood before him, +but Wenzel, using his arm as a flail, bowled him +head-first into a corner. +</p> + +<p> +He stood before Elizabeth, and she shrank back as +she gazed into his flashing, murderous eyes. He seemed +a fiend incarnate, and she shrieked, a long, piercing +cry of terror which echoed through the building and +out into the street. +</p> + +<p> +"Delilah!" Just that one word he spoke, and +raised his hand to throttle her. She read her fate in his +expression. His scars glowed redly, his twisted mouth +opened, exposing his teeth, and she closed her eyes, +unable to bear the sight of his terrible face. +</p> + +<p> +Dimly at the back of his mind something whispered +one word to him—"Elizabeth!" After all she +was—Elizabeth, and his hands dropped to his sides. Then +the guards were on him again, six of them, with Gunzi +making a seventh. +</p> + +<p> +He was invulnerable. With a fierce peal of laughter +he battled with them; the struggling mass of humanity +swayed to and fro. One, two, three, and yet a fourth +went to the floor. He caught hold of a fifth one and +wrapped his arms round the guard, gradually squeezing +the breath out of the man, all the while using him as a +cudgel, but—at last Gunzi saw his opportunity. The +butt of his pistol lifted into the air, and, driven downward +with the full force of the detective's arm, it descended +with a dull thud on Wenzel's defenceless head. +</p> + +<p> +The White Knight swayed indecisively. The helpless +guard dropped to the floor, and then Wenzel too +collapsed, sprawling across the guard. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed the end. A few minutes later Elizabeth +was left alone, as with difficulty the Red guards, not one +of whom but displayed evidence of some injury, carried +away the heavy, helpless form of their prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +The door, having been burst open, would not shut +properly, and Elizabeth became aware of curious heads +peeping in, for now that the Communists had gone the +curious neighbours and other residents of the house +ventured out to ascertain the meaning of the <i>fracas</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Not daring to venture out that night Elizabeth +determined to stay where she was until morning, so she +dragged the bed up to the door, and in that way kept it +closed. In a few minutes' time she had the pleasure of +hearing the unwelcome curiosity-mongers depart. +</p> + +<p> +Her emotions at that moment were indeed mixed, +for while she still trembled over what she believed to +have been a narrow escape from death, she was also +very relieved. By a clever ruse she had not only rid +herself of a man the very sight of whom filled her with +supernatural fear and loathing, but she had also done +a service to one whom she loved—a fact which she had +at last come to realize—the White Knight! +</p> + +<p> +During her wanderings that day she had seen +notices, "Death to the White Knight!" and offers of +a reward for his capture. She had heard the people's +vituperation, the anathemas at the mere mention of his +name, and had realized how the hunt for him was up, how +the Communists were searching for him high and low. +</p> + +<p> +What had she done? Delivered into their hands one +of their own vile crowd, letting them believe that he +was the White Knight. Him they would assuredly +hang, and then, with the White Knight apparently +dead, the chase for him would cease, making his work +of rescue twice as easy—she did not allow herself to +think that through her denunciation an innocent man +would hang. She consoled herself that, anyway, such +as he more than deserved death. +</p> + +<p> +Fondly believing that she had rendered a great +service to her unknown hero, her heart beat with +gratitude to the kindly Fate which had permitted her +to give him a helping hand. +</p> + +<p> +So ran the current of her thoughts, and intermingled +with them were two distinct scenes which constantly +reverted to her mind. The first was of the kiss which +Wenzel had implanted upon her unsuspecting lips. +It had been as sweet as that of a lover, as gentle and +innocent as that of a child, when it might have been +so different, and as a paradox it puzzled her. It was so +absolutely foreign to his nature as she knew it, and it +seemed almost as though she had gazed upon a slimy, +weedy pond, from out the green vegetation of which +had peeped the pure whiteness of a water-lily. +</p> + +<p> +When she closed her eyes she could feel again the +velvet of his lips; if she could have only thrust away the +vision of his mutilated, repulsive features she believed +her heart might have thrillingly responded—then she +chided herself for the very thought. So with an effort +she thrust from her mind the memory of the kiss, but +in its place was substituted, even more vividly, the +moment when he had stood before her, mad with rage. +</p> + +<p> +"Delilah!" Why had he termed her Delilah? She +had betrayed him, but only in self-defence. How could +she have played Delilah to his Samson? +</p> + +<p> +Samson! Him the name justly described—seven +men hanging on to every part of his body, their united +strength against his, yet it had taken a pistol-butt to +defeat him, a treacherous blow from behind. +</p> + +<p> +The next moment all these thoughts were driven +from her mind as she heard a pounding on the door. +Her heart leaped in dismay, then an icy chill settled +round it, while her nerves twitched. +</p> + +<p> +She feared to give her imagination full play. She +seemed to see a scene in the street, the scarred man +recovering from his blow, breaking loose, and returning +for revenge. +</p> + +<p> +The noise ceased abruptly, and suddenly the bed +began to move as the door was pushed inward. A +muttered shriek escaped her lips, and Arnold cursed. +What was the White Knight doing, permitting her to +draw attention to them like that? He pushed still +harder, till at last there was enough room for him to +insert his body, and he squeezed into the room. +</p> + +<p> +There was no Wenzel, only Elizabeth gazing at him +with an expression of horror, which rapidly changed to +one of incredulous amazement and unutterable relief. +The next moment she jumped from the bed and ran +to him, buried her head on his shoulder, and now, with +safety in sight at last, gave way to a paroxysm of tears. +</p> + +<p> +Arnold smoothed her hair compassionately. He would +far sooner Cecile were in her place just for that brief +moment, but at some future date ... and he smiled happily. +</p> + +<p> +As for the White Knight, he could only conclude +that for reasons best known to himself he had changed +his plans at the last moment, and had no doubt that +Elizabeth's subsequent words would give him a clue +which he might follow up. +</p> + +<p> +"At last I have been able to reach you!" he murmured. +The sound of his voice seemed to recall her. +She dried her eyes and drew away. +</p> + +<p> +"How did you know I was here?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +During the time he had been waiting Arnold had +concocted a story to tell her. He knew it to be thin, +but hoped that, in her relief at being rescued, she +would not be too critical as to details. +</p> + +<p> +"By the most slender coincidence in the world. Of +course, immediately the White Knight, Apor, and +myself arrived at the Château Juhusz—we rescued +Apor, by the way, but of that more presently—we +learned of your disappearance. +</p> + +<p> +"In the meantime the search-parties who had been +looking for you discovered a pile of flowers dropped by +the Budapest road, so, putting two and two together, +we assumed that you had been kidnapped. +</p> + +<p> +"You might have been taken either way, so while I +came to Budapest, the White Knight went the other +way, while Francis and Apor divided the rest of the +surrounding country between them. +</p> + +<p> +"All day long I had been looking for you, then suddenly +I saw you with a very tall man. I followed you +nearly here, and then, just at the last moment, lost you. +All this time I have been making discreet inquiries, till at +last I heard that a tall man, with a lady—and the woman +who told me described you to a nicety—had come into +this building. Here I am. I soon found out that none +of the other rooms sheltered you, and this was the last +one. When I started pushing the door I heard you call +out, and <i>voilà</i>! I knew I had found you at last." +</p> + +<p> +He chuckled to himself. It was not such a bad +attempt after all. He had told his story with an +histrionic ability which emphasized the strongest links +and shaded the weakest points. Mentally he patted +himself on the back. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, had he known it, he need not have worried. +Since at last she felt safe Elizabeth was too full of her +successful scheme in disposing of an enemy and helping +the White Knight to heed very carefully what he +had been telling her. +</p> + +<p> +Almost before he had finished speaking she commenced +to tell him. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen, Monsieur Arnold, I have done a wonderful +thing! During my adventures to-day I learned +how the people here in Budapest rave of and revile +the White Knight, and that there was scarcely one +who was not on the look out for any clue which might +deliver him into the hands of the Commune. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen! Supposing one were delivered into their +clutches whom they believed to be the White Knight! +Supposing there were sufficient proof to make them +have no doubt that the right man was in their hands! +Would this not be of invaluable assistance to your +wonderful leader?" +</p> + +<p> +"Undoubtedly, mademoiselle. Once the chase died +down it would mean that for a time the White Knight +could come and go with far greater safety, and it might +be quite a little while before the Communists, realizing +that a trick had been perpetrated upon them, took up +the hunt again. But, mademoiselle, I scarcely believe +such an idea could be successfully carried out." +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes glowed with triumph. "Yet, Monsieur +Arnold, I have done this!" +</p> + +<p> +"You have done that!" he repeated in surprise. +"Good God!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she continued. "By a most wonderful ruse +I have deceived the Communists. +</p> + +<p> +"While I was imprisoned in this room—I will +explain how that happened later on—I came across a +box of chess-pieces. Naturally there were two white +knights among them. I found also pencil and paper, +and I wrote to Bela Kun and threw the letter through +the window into the road. I told him where he could +find the White Knight, whom I had recognized as such +because I had found a white knight in his pocket; and +to make my betrayal all the more real I pretended I +was doing this for revenge. Also I claimed the reward. +</p> + +<p> +"Bela Kun acted upon my advice. He sent six Red +guards and a detective to the place I mentioned. There +they found the man I had described to them. There +was no doubt in their minds as to the truth, but, even +so, they received further proof, because another white +knight was found in his pockets—a white knight which +I had put there!" +</p> + +<p> +"Good Lord! But, mademoiselle, you are wonderful! +How on earth did you manage to put that piece there?" +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated for a moment. "No," she said at last, +"I do not think I will tell you that." +</p> + +<p> +Arnold did not press the matter. He did not think +it mattered much. Lost in admiration for her skill, +only reckoning the benefit which his leader would +receive from such a scoop, it mattered not to him the +why and the wherefore. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, I congratulate you with all my +heart. Your achievement is marvellous! But now for +home—home before the man with whom I saw you +returns?" There was a query in his voice. He wondered +what had happened to Wenzel. +</p> + +<p> +She laughed softly. "You need not worry about +him any more," she said, and Arnold detected a note +of triumph in her voice. For a moment he wondered +at it. Had she, then, disposed of Wenzel? A horrible, +ghastly suspicion arose in his mind. +</p> + +<p> +"Mademoiselle, what do you mean?" His voice +rose shrilly. +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth looked at him strangely. There was +something in his suddenly anxious expression, a look of +absolute consternation, which frightened her. Even +in the uncertain light of the flickering candle she saw +his face pale and his eyes gleam wildly. +</p> + +<p> +"What do I mean?" she repeated vacantly, and +then faltered. She felt terrified. Arnold's staring +eyes—they seemed to hypnotize her. "Monsieur, I—I +mean that—that the man with whom you saw me, the +man who brought me here by trickery, is the man I +have denounced to the Commune as the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +Arnold could only stare and stare, his face conveying +nothing but a blank look of inconceivable horror and +dismay. His face was now chalky white, and in contrast to +the pallor his eyes seemed abnormally large—accusing. +</p> + +<p> +What had she done? If he would only speak! +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Mother in Heaven!" She could bear the +anxiety no longer. "Monsieur Arnold, for Heaven's +sake tell me what is the matter! Your look... I +am afraid, my heart trembles...." +</p> + +<p> +He spoke in emotionless tones, his voice devoid of +any feeling whatsoever: +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing, mademoiselle, nothing, except—the man +you have just denounced into the hands of the Commune +as the White Knight—he—he—he is none other +than—the White Knight himself." +</p> + +<p> +There was a dead silence. Elizabeth did not speak, +simply gazed at Arnold, then, without warning, dropped +to the floor unconscious. And the Englishman laughed +hysterically. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> + +<h2> +CHAPTER XVIII +</h2> + +<p> +Throughout the night Wenzel's head +ached abominably from the blow it had received, +but by the time morning arrived, and a grinning, +jeering jailer brought him a meagre pittance of mouldy +bread, together with a cup of water, the pain began to +ease somewhat, and he was able to think more clearly. +</p> + +<p> +Purely in passing curiosity he wondered how many +hours it would be before he died. Actually he cared +neither how soon nor when that hour might be. The +death for which he had sought after the passing of +Zita and before the rebirth of love in his breast was +to be his at last. +</p> + +<p> +The few minutes during which he learned from +Elizabeth's own lips the entire depth of her treachery +had more than sufficed to wash away the work of +weeks. Once again he was the sullen automaton, +hating creation, its Maker, and all who breathed and +lived—even the unfortunate victims of the Commune +for whose rescue he was in the main responsible. +</p> + +<p> +He did not think of Elizabeth. Having regained +consciousness his earlier flash of temper died away and +he forgave her, realizing that it was not the action itself +which angered him, but the thought of what had been +the real impulse which had urged her to such a course. +The pitiable story was so easy to read. +</p> + +<p> +In his imagination he could picture her as she +probably had been during his absence, when, somehow or +other, she must have discovered his identity. Aghast—nay, +possibly hypnotized by his personality and satanical +appearance—she had passed her knowledge on to the +Communists, probably shocked that such a man as he +could live and not be struck down by the wrath of God! +</p> + +<p> +Then almost at once his thoughts changed and he +saw it in a different light. He asked himself by what +right Elizabeth had passed judgment upon him. If +she possessed nothing other than a sense of gratitude +toward him for having saved her father from death, +surely this should have been sufficiently strong to have +dissuaded her from the step she had taken. +</p> + +<p> +Yet among all the different aspects of her act which +passed through his mind there was just one which +never occurred to him—the true one. That she had +betrayed him as the White Knight all unknowing that +he was indeed the White Knight in very truth, and, +still further, that Elizabeth had done this that sha +might be of service to him, was never farther from +his thoughts than during the time he gloomed in a +Parliament House cell, waiting for the moment when +he would be haled before Korvin-Klein. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime the Supreme Soviet Council, in +session at the Hapsburg Palace, was in high spirits. +The White Knight captured at last! It was almost too +good to be true! +</p> + +<p> +There they sat, the rulers of the ruined nation, +discussing what would be the finest form of death to +mete out—and by the finest they meant one which +would give the hated Enemy of the Commune the most +exquisite torture, and themselves the greatest degree of +pleasurable gratification. +</p> + +<p> +On one point they were all agreed. Where or how +he should die did not matter so very much, but +when—it could not be too soon. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, comrades," pleaded Korvin-Klein, "why +not hand him over to me? I can assure you he will not +escape, and I shall see to it that his death is all that +could be desired." +</p> + +<p> +Pogany grunted: "What about Apor? Did your +men keep him safe and sound?" +</p> + +<p> +Klein flushed. "You cannot blame that on me. Who +sent me orders by telephone?—it was lucky I happened +to be there——" +</p> + +<p> +"Unlucky, I think," interrupted Kunfi. +</p> + +<p> +The hunchback shrugged his shoulders. "Look at +it which way you like. As I was saying, who gave me +orders last thing at night to drop him in the Danube +without a moment's delay? Bela Kun! If Comrade +Bela Kun had not 'phoned me he would still have been +safe and sound in the morning." +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing of the sort, Korvin!" said Bela Kun +bluntly. "From the information I received, the White +Knight was coming to you with a forged order for +Apor's release. It must have been just luck that they +were in Parliament Square at the very time your men +were taking him to his death." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you really believe that, my friend?" asked +Klein softly. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I do!" said Bela Kun truculently. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I don't, and I don't believe you do either. +You told me yourself that the detective Gunzi came to +you with a story which he had heard from the lips of +the man who, by Gunzi's description of him, was +undoubtedly the White Knight himself. Gunzi was meant +to hear that story. The whole thing was carefully +planned and executed." +</p> + +<p> +"What of it?" Bela Kun frowned. He might be +the Dictator, but in the Soviet they were all "comrades," +and though it hurt him to acknowledge equality with +the others he could do nothing but suffer it. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing. I only want to point out that Apor's +escape was not my fault. You fell into the trap and you +alone are to blame. You are Dictator, so must take the +responsibility." Klein's attitude was smoothly peaceful. +</p> + +<p> +It might have developed into a stormy scene, but +Szamuelly whispered into the Dictator's ear, and after +swallowing a lump in his throat Bela Kun accepted the +situation with a shrug of the shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, I will take the blame. What matter +the escape of the sprat now that we have caught the +whale?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hear, hear!" agreed Bohm. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and let us settle the question as to what to do +with the prisoner." +</p> + +<p> +There was a chorus of confirmative growls, and +several of them would have spoken at once, but +suddenly Szamuelly held up his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Let me say a few words, comrades," he said. +"Now that we have at last the White Knight in our +hands, why should we not have the full benefit of our +triumph? I have a fancy to see this man, to see him +shiver with fear, perhaps to make him howl with pain. +What do you all say?" +</p> + +<p> +There was not much doubt as to the opinion of the rest +of the Council. Only Agoston raised a protesting voice: +</p> + +<p> +"One minute, comrades! Where do you intend to +see the White Knight?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, have him brought here, of course!" +</p> + +<p> +"And is that safe?" +</p> + +<p> +Korvin-Klein chuckled. "As I have said once before, +Comrade Agoston, I am willing to take sole responsibility +for his safety. Leave that to me, and if by a +miracle he should escape—hang me instead." +</p> + +<p> +Agoston subsided, and the motion was passed unanimously. +Korvin-Klein left the meeting to transport the +hapless prisoner from one side of the river to the other. +</p> + +<p> +There was ample evidence that Klein valued his +own neck. With all the precautions he took it would +have been not only suicidal for would-be rescuers, but +in addition any such plan would have signed the White +Knight's death-warrant. +</p> + +<p> +Not even daring to use the bridge, Klein commandeered +a ferry-tug. Cleared of all but the crew, it was +firstly occupied by a guard of twelve Terrorists. These +Terrorists, each with a cocked revolver in his hand, +took up positions round the deck. Then was ushered +on board the prisoner, his wrists handcuffed, and, as an +added precaution, not only were his arms bound, but +he was attached by a long chain to Klein himself. +</p> + +<p> +Four men, also with ready revolvers, surrounded Klein +and his prisoner. Their sole instructions were to shoot +the White Knight dead on the slightest hint of rescue. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, eight other guards posted themselves in +various positions, their duty to keep watch over the +crew of the ferry. +</p> + +<p> +From near by Arnold and Elizabeth watched, Arnold +alert for any lead of which he might take advantage, +Elizabeth dull and faint with the turmoil of her +unceasing remorse. So plainly did it seem to her that the +White Knight was going to his death that she clutched +Arnold's arm in an agonized grip and swayed slightly; +for the moment he was afraid she was about to swoon +again. +</p> + +<p> +Hastily he attempted to reassure her, but for all the +cheerfulness he forced into his voice his heart was sick +with anxiety. Too well he realized that he might be +gazing upon his friend for the last time. +</p> + +<p> +The Council awaited with impatience the coming of +the White Knight; but when at last the doors of the +large hall were thrown open, and in the midst of twelve +guards the prisoner was marched within, there was a +stir of interest, not unmixed with sighs of relief and +exclamations of triumph. +</p> + +<p> +"There you are, friends! Have I not carried out my +bargain?" Klein bombastically patted himself on his +narrow chest, then waved his hand in the direction of +Wenzel. +</p> + +<p> +The Communists gazed upon their prisoner with a +glance of unconcealed curiosity, in which was intermingled +a <i>soupçon</i> of puzzlement, a suspicion of disdain. +</p> + +<p> +Standing before them in an attitude of hopeless +dejection the White Knight looked anything but a +formidable opponent. His filthy clothes hung upon him as +they would about a scarecrow, a comparison intensified +by the dirty scarf which covered up the lower part of +his face, and the cap which in a slovenly fashion rested +low on his head, almost covering his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Kunfi laughed scornfully: "That man the White +Knight! Ha! You are having your wish, Szamuelly. +Why he trembles with fear even before we speak to +him! I am surprised. I expected to see at least a man, +not a bundle of old clothes, a shivering worm." +</p> + +<p> +The humour of the Communists was misplaced. +Themselves wearing stolen clothes—suits from the +wardrobes of the <i>châteaux</i>, shirts, collars, and ties from +the <i>appartements</i> of the rich—their criticism of the +White Knight's garments merited the satire of Voltaire, +or of the more gentle Lamb. +</p> + +<p> +Korvin-Klein now took command. Walking up to +the White Knight he said genially: "So you were +caught napping at last, my friend! You should have +remembered that history usually repeats itself. Exposed +by a woman! You will be in good company, comrade, +when you reach the other side, and will have many +sympathizers." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know what you mean. Why have you +arrested me? Why am I a prisoner?" The prisoner's +voice was weak and trembling. +</p> + +<p> +Klein laughed derisively, and turned to his +fellow-Communists: "Do you hear that, all of you? He +wants to know why he is arrested. Is that not a good +joke?" He roared, and his mirth was echoed all round +the large hall, even the Terrorists joining in. They +were beginning to be glad of Szamuelly's suggestion. +It looked as though Klein would create an interesting +scene. +</p> + +<p> +The head of the Detective Department turned to the +White Knight again: "Just to humour you, I do not +object to letting you know, comrade. It is because +you are the White Knight, the self-styled Enemy of +the Commune, the champion of the <i>bourgeoisie</i>, the +rescuer of magnates." +</p> + +<p> +There was a fresh outburst of hilarious laughter at +Klein's long recital of the White Knight's many titles. +</p> + +<p> +The prisoner moaned slightly. "I do not know +what you are saying. I am no enemy of the Commune. +I am a good Communist. Have I not plenty of friends +to prove it? Please don't kill me, oh, please, Comrade +Korvin-Klein! I am a poor innocent man who does +not know what you mean, who has never done a crown's +worth of harm to anyone except the <i>bourgeoisie</i>, and +whose only fault is desiring a pretty woman." +</p> + +<p> +Klein looked at him queerly: "I suppose you don't +deny you were arrested last night by the Red guards?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I don't," whined the other. +</p> + +<p> +"And do you deny having fought with the Red guards +to escape from them? Is that your idea of innocence?" +</p> + +<p> +"I—I was nearly drunk, comrade. I met a friend +just earlier in the evening, a tall man, nearly as tall as +myself, who took me to a place to get a drink. He +gave me two full bottles of wine all to myself." +</p> + +<p> +"And then?" asked Klein sarcastically. +</p> + +<p> +"Then he asked me if I would like to earn ten +English pounds. I said yes. He put something in +my pocket, and told me a woman was expecting him +at such-and-such an address, but that he could not go. +Then he hinted that if I made myself nice to her—well, +Comrade Klein, you know what happens when one is +nice to a woman." +</p> + +<p> +Some one laughed aloud, and many of the listeners +smiled, but no one spoke. Most of them were too +interested. Bela Kun, Szamuelly, and Korvin-Klein +were the exceptions. These three more astute men +were conscious of a cold, chilly feeling. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well!" Korvin-Klein looked at the prisoner +steadily. "Supposing we believe your story, perhaps +you can describe the man who gave you the money and +told you to go to the room of this woman." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, comrade, certainly," said the other +eagerly. "He was a broad, tall man, nearly as tall as +me, in fact, but he was hideously ugly, his face was +transfigured with scars. He was a monster. It nearly +made me sick to look at him." +</p> + +<p> +"Hell!" shouted Szamuelly, "but he has described +the White Knight exactly. We have heard the same +description from Garami and Gunzi, the detective from +Aszod. Besides, Bela Kun has seen the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I have," growled Bela Kun. "I can +see the rogue's face before me now. Bah! the man is +merely describing himself: tightening the noose round +his neck. Take off that scarf!" +</p> + +<p> +With rough hands Klein seized the filthy scarf from +the neck of the other and tore it off. There was a +stupefied silence. All eyes turned in the direction of +the prisoner, then, simultaneously, switched round to +the Dictator. +</p> + +<p> +Bela Kun gazed with bewildered eyes at the man +who stood before him, bound and chained, and then +rubbed his eyes frantically. The prisoner, the man +they believed to be the White Knight, had not a single +scar of any kind apparent on his face or neck. +</p> + +<p> +"Good God! Good God!" Bela Kun bellowed to +Klein, but his next words, in the hurry to escape, stuck +in his throat, so that he merely spluttered and choked. +Then, with an effort, he cleared his throat: +</p> + +<p> +"Good God, Klein! that man is—is not the White +Knight after all! We have all been hoaxed." +</p> + +<p> +There was an instantaneous uproar. The members +of the Council sprang to their feet, chairs went +clattering to the ground, and the hall echoed and re-echoed +with the babel of tongues. There were shouts of rage; +recriminations were hurled to and fro, while Bela Kun +and Korvin-Klein shrank away from the volume of +hard words thrown at them. +</p> + +<p> +Many, in their rage, pounded on the tables with +their fists, others gabbled incoherently, and there was +not one present who did not help, in some way or other, +to swell the noise till the din became dreadful. +</p> + +<p> +Only the prisoner remained quiet, his face twisted +with anguish, and white with the pasty pallor of fear. +But no one questioned the fact that he most emphatically +was not the White Knight; of this there was not +the slightest atom of doubt. +</p> + +<p> +There were no disfiguring scars zigzagging across +his face, transforming it into a satanic and horrific +mask. It did not repel, or create a violent sensation +of monstrous iniquity. Indeed, his face was, if +anything, inclined to be handsome, his complexion more +or less pure, and, perhaps, if it had not been for its +almost deathly whiteness, it might have even created an +impression of health. +</p> + +<p> +The commotion died away. Szamuelly, his voice +seething with fury, spoke at length to Bela Kun: +</p> + +<p> +"There cannot be a mistake, Bela Kun. How can +you prove that these words are correct?" +</p> + +<p> +"Easily. If you do not believe me call Gunzi and +Garami, both of whom have seen and spoken to the +White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +"Right!" said Korvin-Klein, his mouth twisting +with an ugly snarl. "I will send for them both. Then +we shall see." +</p> + +<p> +Rapidly he issued his orders. The prisoner, his +attitude already easier, was taken on one side, while the +members of the Supreme Soviet Council discussed +the situation. +</p> + +<p> +"Hang him anyway, White Knight or no White +Knight. That's what I say, my friends. At any rate +we shall be safe." As usual Szamuelly voted for death, +and doubtless the others would have agreed—for +another life more or less made no difference—but the +foxy Korvin-Klein thought differently. +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a minute, comrades. Listen to what I have +to say. Let us assume for the minute that a mistake +has been made, that the man there," and he jerked +his thumb in the direction of the prisoner, "is not the +White Knight. What does that mean? One of two +things. Either we have been hoaxed—in which case, +hang the man—or else last night the White Knight +discovered that, in some way, this woman was betraying +him, and knowing of the trap he really did persuade +this man to take his place. +</p> + +<p> +"As I have already said, if it can be proved that +the first supposition is correct—well, I suggest a little +better than hanging. But I ask you, friends, would +any sane man deliberately put himself into our hands +for the sake of hoaxing us? +</p> + +<p> +"Again, in the second case, the prisoner might as well +die. Now suppose it were all a genuine mistake on the +part of the White Knight—after all, I dare say he likes +a woman as much as the rest of us—do you not think it +possible that he may try and meet this man to discover +how he got on with the White Knight's lady-love? +</p> + +<p> +"Let him free, if it be proved that he is innocent. +Then let me set a detective to track him. Sooner or +later he may meet the White Knight. Then we shall +know what to do." +</p> + +<p> +The point of the chief detective's arguments was +too forceful not to impress even the most obtuse mind, +and, after a little hesitation, that course was agreed upon +by the Council. +</p> + +<p> +Soon afterward came Gunzi. In the meantime Korvin-Klein +replaced the muffler round the prisoner's chin. +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi was asked whether the prisoner was the man +he had arrested the night before. +</p> + +<p> +The detective looked surprised. "Certainly," he +answered, with an assured air. +</p> + +<p> +"And he is the same man whom you saw drinking +in the beer-tavern the night before?" +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi looked at him carefully. Again he answered +in the affirmative, and his tone was still as confident. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well," said Klein, "now take off his scarf." +</p> + +<p> +Slowly Gunzi unwound it, and as its last fold exposed +the face of its wearer the detective started back +with surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"But—but—but——" he stammered, and stopped. +</p> + +<p> +"Well!" Korvin-Klein barked out the word, and +Gunzi looked nervous. The detective eyed the prisoner, +carefully noting every detail of the face. Then at last +he turned. +</p> + +<p> +"Except for one thing," he said, "this man might +be the White Knight. In many respects he is similar +to the Enemy of the Commune, not only in build, but +also in facial expression, but—he is not the same man." +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Crowds were clustered round the Hapsburg Palace, +for already it had been bruited far and wide that the +White Knight was within, appearing before the Soviet +Council. Among those who stood well to the forefront +were Arnold and Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +At first the chatter of the people was jubilant. Then +men from out of the palace, dashing to and fro, excited +the attention of the throng, and soon afterward +the whisper went round that everything was not as it +should be. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it? Why is every one talking so angrily +and gesticulating so?" Elizabeth asked. +</p> + +<p> +Arnold shook his head. "I don't understand. Wait! +I will try to find out." +</p> + +<p> +Not far from them was a small group which, judging +by the number of people who approached questioningly, +possessed more or less authoritative information. +To it Arnold strolled casually. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter, comrade?" he asked of one man. +</p> + +<p> +The Communist swore. "I don't know, but from +what I can make out the man they arrested last night +is not the White Knight after all. May God smite +down the fools for their mistake if it's true!" +</p> + +<p> +Arnold's heart leaped, but the next moment he was +convinced that the man was making up the story to +provoke an interest in himself. He moved on, but +again and again the tale was the same. The prisoner +inside was not the White Knight! +</p> + +<p> +He turned back to Elizabeth. "I do not understand +it," he whispered. "Do you know what they are +saying? That the man they captured last night is not +the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth's hand flew to her lips. Only with an +effort did she keep from calling out in surprise. For +a few seconds her face beamed with a celestial happiness, +but as quickly it altered, and there returned the +engraven look of hopeless despair. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot believe it, Arnold. I, who was there, +know that the man with the scars, the White Knight +himself, was captured. For some reason best known +to themselves the Communists are spreading the +rumour—perhaps because they wish to discourage +attempts at rescue." +</p> + +<p> +After that the time passed slowly. From where they +were Arnold and Elizabeth could see men coming and +going into the palace. Firstly, although they did not +know it, went in Gunzi, then later Garami. More +time elapsed. Suddenly Arnold gripped Elizabeth's +wrist in a steely grasp. +</p> + +<p> +"Whatever you do," he muttered hoarsely, "don't +make a sound, but—look!" +</p> + +<p> +Coming out of the palace door was the White Knight, +but only those two knew it. To the rest of the crowd +he was merely another man making his exit from the +palace. +</p> + +<p> +He made his way somewhat in the direction where +stood Arnold and Elizabeth, but, as he came nearer, +Arnold's heart turned cold with disappointment. Man +though he was, he felt the tears springing to his eyes, so +great was the shock. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, God!" he whispered. "I have made a mistake. +But in the distance he was the image of Geoffrey." +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps his eyes were clouded temporarily by his +feeling of despondency, or perhaps her eyes were more +discerning. At any rate she recognized, not the face, +but the garments. +</p> + +<p> +"They are his clothes. I will swear it. Oh, Heaven! +Do I not recognize every garment, every patch, every +tear? Monsieur, that man must be the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +Arnold shook his head. "God knows, mademoiselle, +I would willingly believe it, but—he is not the White +Knight. Look at his face!" +</p> + +<p> +When Elizabeth looked she had to agree. That man +was not the White Knight. +</p> + +<p> +The hours passed, and gradually the crowd dispersed, +for at last it was officially confirmed—the +Soviet had not caught the White Knight. +</p> + +<p> +With the passing of time Arnold believed more and +more that the report was trickery on the Council's part. +It was the White Knight who had been captured. Had +he not seen his leader a few hours ago at the ferry, +surrounded by two dozen Terrorists? +</p> + +<p> +Now, with the other people gone, for Elizabeth and +him to stop where they were would have been making +themselves conspicuous. +</p> + +<p> +"Come," he said, and his voice was expressionless. +"Let us go. We must not stop here." +</p> + +<p> +"But where?" +</p> + +<p> +He spread out his arms. "Back to the room +where—where Geoffrey was—captured." +</p> + +<p> +"That will be my—my penance," she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +"I know nowhere else," he apologized. "I must +guard you as I would guard myself, for—for Geoffrey +will be expecting that of me." +</p> + +<p> +Somehow they made their way back, though the +streets were crowded, and their despondent spirits +made the work of threading through all the harder. +Stumbling up the stairs they reached the room and +threw open the door. Arnold started. Sitting on the +bed was the man whom they had seen in the crowd +round the palace. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you doing here?" he asked angrily. +</p> + +<p> +Now that the man had cast aside not only his scarf, +but also his hat, he could see all the more easily that, +despite a slight resemblance to the White Knight, the +man on the bed could no more be Wenzel than he +himself. Not only was this man's face free from +blemishes, but so was his head. Arnold knew well the +vivid, blood-red scar which scraped Wenzel's scalp, +and in the mass of straight hair—almost black when +compared to the shade of Geoffrey's curly head—there +was not the slightest sign of it. +</p> + +<p> +"Why shouldn't I be here?" mumbled the man. +</p> + +<p> +"Because it happens to be my room. Come on, +comrade—outside!" Arnold was in no mood for +argument, and there was a dangerous glitter in his +eyes which should have warned the intruder. +</p> + +<p> +The other man shrugged his shoulders. "I was +here before you," he said. "Mademoiselle can prove +that." He nodded his head in the direction of Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +Arnold clenched his fists. "What do you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"What I say, my friend, that I was here last night, +and thanks to her ladyship"—his tone was +hard—"arrested in mistake for the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +"You—arrested in mistake—but——" Then it +was true, and the White Knight was not in prison. +But, in that case, where was the White Knight? +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth could have spoken in joy, but Arnold +stopped her. He mistrusted the man. It almost seemed +as if there were a trap somewhere. He felt suddenly +afraid. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know what you say," he said coolly. "This +lady has never met the White Knight in all her life." +</p> + +<p> +The man yawned. "You said that very well, but—it +isn't really the truth, is it, Arnold?" And then +Arnold knew that despite the evidence of his eyes the +man who sat on the bed really was the White Knight. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER XIX</i> +</h2> + +<p> +The faint light from the guttering candle was +barely sufficient to illuminate the tiny kitchen, +for a draught blew in through a broken +window, twisting and flicking the flame from side to +side. Yet, despite the shadows, there was no mistaking +the figure of the man who sat at the table, his head +buried in his outstretched arms, his shoulders shaking +with emotion. +</p> + +<p> +Through the cracked window watched the White +Knight, and the pathos of the scene hurt him, the +silent grief, the loneliness of the cottage, the very +solitude of the man—a sorrow shared is a sorrow +halved, and yet there seemed no one to help carry the +burden of the unhappy man within. +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly in his Death Train had come and gone—the +White Knight had missed him by an hour—and +somehow Wenzel could not doubt that the anguish he +now witnessed was a direct result of that flying visit. +</p> + +<p> +He moved round to the door, and gently twisting +the handle pushed and entered. +</p> + +<p> +The man at the table glanced up, and the White +Knight saw that his face was twisted with pain. +</p> + +<p> +Dully he looked Wenzel up and down. "What do +you want?" he asked tonelessly. +</p> + +<p> +"A word or two with you," Wenzel replied. +</p> + +<p> +Immersed in the depths of his own thoughts, the +man did not understand. "What do want?" he asked +for the second time. +</p> + +<p> +Tragedy tinged the air, and Wenzel felt its influence. +"A few words, comrade," he said quietly. "I shall +not keep you long." +</p> + +<p> +After a time his meaning seemed to sink into the +man's consciousness, for suddenly the corners of his +lips puckered downward. "Go away, friend. I talk +to no one to-night." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel did not move. "Yet I would ask you to +listen. Tell me one thing—when I looked through +the window I saw your shoulders shaking; your eyes +seem red with weeping. A man does not give way +without good cause. Tell me your sorrow." +</p> + +<p> +The man's eyes glittered, and he half rose from his +seat. "What the Hell does it matter to you? Get +out!" he muttered savagely. "Leave me to myself." But +from the look of desperation in his eyes Wenzel +divined his purpose. +</p> + +<p> +"No, my friend, not until I have spoken with you. +You must not kill yourself. It is not God's will." +</p> + +<p> +"God!" The man sneered. "There is no God, or +if there is He has forgotten Hungary. Who are you +to talk to me of God? Have you had a son butchered +to death before your very eyes? Have you heard +your son crying for death, shrieking with pain?—God, +the murderous hounds! The devils!" +</p> + +<p> +"You mean—Szamuelly?" +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Wenzel regretted mentioning the +name, for suddenly the man's expression changed. +Sadness and heartache dissolved from his face. Instead, +his features became distorted by a spasm of unrelenting +hatred. His eyes gleamed wickedly, his lips drew back +in a snarl, exposing his coarse and rotted teeth, while +his breath hissed in the intensity of his feelings. +</p> + +<p> +"Szamuelly! Szamuelly!" He choked. "May +his entrails rot in Hell! May the vampires suck his +blood! May God blast his soul! I curse him, he and all +of his, his sons and his sons' sons; his daughters, his +daughters' daughters, and all who may speak to them in +friendship! Curse him, I say! Curse him!" With a +sobbing cry the man's head fell on to his crooked arms. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel neither spoke nor moved. Gradually the +paroxysm passed, then the man looked up again, tears +frankly falling from his eyes, and dropping, with dismal +splashes, upon the rough wooden table. +</p> + +<p> +"The only son left to me here in the village. Pity +the grief of an old man, friend, an old man who, five +years ago, had a house full of healthy sons around him. +Six there were—from twelve years of age to thirty. +They were not a marrying sort, so remained with their +old father. +</p> + +<p> +"Six of them, five years ago. Two killed in 1915, +one in 1916, and another in 1917—blast the War! +Four sons out of five—and all for nothing. Have we +not lost after all? Is not Hungary beaten, conquered, +ground down? Only one came back to me; he, together +with the youngest and me—we were going to start +life anew, but, my God! the eldest was forced to stop +in Budapest and join the railway, to sweat and toil for +Bela Kun. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish to Heaven both he and the youngest had +been killed in the War! Better to die fighting, say I, +battling against enemies, than to—to be tortured to +death in front of the eyes of your father by your own +countrymen. Yes, comrade, that is what happened to my +youngest. Just seventeen years of age, and +Szamuelly—Szamuelly had him hanged because he wouldn't +wear the Red cockade. He would have killed me, +because I too wouldn't have worn the cursed colour, +but the swine was in a hurry. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tell what I have done to all would-be Whites,' +he said, with a laugh. That's what he said to me, the +father of the poor butchered boy. Oh, Jesus Christ, +why have You deserted us in our hour of need? Why +do You not smite these heretics who spit on Your +Cross? ... And now, comrade, what do you want?" +</p> + +<p> +It was as though the old man suddenly recollected +that there was another man present, for he ended with +a snarl. +</p> + +<p> +"I want—the help of you and your remaining son, +comrade—I am the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +The man gazed at him with incredulous eyes, his +trembling lips, his shaking hands testifying to the shock +he had received, but, as the fact filtered into his brain, +he dropped suddenly to his knees, and seizing Wenzel's +hand in his own, he kissed it passionately, again and +again, until Wenzel, in embarrassment, withdrew it. +</p> + +<p> +"The White Knight! The White Knight!" With +the assistance of the White Knight the old man shakily +rose to his feet and tottered back to his chair. "God +be praised! You, Excellency, you are the man who has +sworn to kill Szamuelly, you, Excellency, are the White +Knight, the Enemy of the Commune, and you need my +help, and the help of my—only son...." He drew +himself up and gazed with steadfast eyes at Wenzel. +"God forgive me!" he muttered piously. "God +forgive me for my words. He has not forgotten +us.... And now, Excellency?" +</p> + +<p> +His voice finished briskly, and the White Knight +knew that he need fear no betrayal from this man. +</p> + +<p> +"Firstly," he said, "your promise. You must not +kill yourself." +</p> + +<p> +The man gazed at him with reproach. "Excellency, +I am yours to command." +</p> + +<p> +"Good! You are a railwayman?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Excellency." +</p> + +<p> +"You are in the telegraph service?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Excellency." +</p> + +<p> +"And your son? I believe he also is in the telegraph +department at the Budapest terminus. Is that not so?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Excellency." +</p> + +<p> +"Good! Your name, my friend, it is Hervesi?" +</p> + +<p> +"Correct, Excellency." +</p> + +<p> +"Now, listen, Hervesi; tell me firstly how you knew +that I had sworn to kill Szamuelly." +</p> + +<p> +"I heard a week ago from my son in Budapest, +Excellency. He met a man named Gunzi, who was +searching for the White Knight. 'For why?' asked +my son. 'Because he threatens to kill our great +Szamuelly,' replied this Gunzi. Then my son, so he +told me, chuckled inwardly, and made inquiries about +the White Knight, and heard of all your wonderful +deeds, Excellency, so when I saw him three days ago +he told me all." +</p> + +<p> +"Does he hear much news?" +</p> + +<p> +"Plenty, Excellency. He sleeps in the same room +as a man named Nyistor, a labourer who is now Assistant +Commissary for Agriculture." +</p> + +<p> +The White Knight smiled. Matters were turning +out far better than he had ever expected. +</p> + +<p> +"What thinks your son, then, Hervesi, of the Commune?" +</p> + +<p> +The railwayman's face twisted into a snarl. "As I, +Excellency. He fought for glorious Hungary, for +your country and mine, not for these filthy Russian +murderers." +</p> + +<p> +"Not my country, Hervesi," said Wenzel quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"Not your country, Excellency?" The man looked +puzzled. "I do not understand." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not Hungarian—I am British." +</p> + +<p> +"You—British? Then you are—an enemy!" Instantly +Hervesi's face became suspicious. +</p> + +<p> +"Not an enemy of you or any other honest +Hungarian, Hervesi. Only an enemy of the Commune. +I—I was engaged to a Hungarian lady, Hervesi, but +when I got back from the War I found that the +Communists had—killed her, killed her as surely as they +killed your son." +</p> + +<p> +"The swine, the swine! So that is why you help +us? We Hungarians never wanted to fight the British, +Excellency, but we were the puppets of German +intrigue. Why did England fight us? We were—we +are friends of England." +</p> + +<p> +"England does not forget the fact, Hervesi," but +Wenzel said it with a heavy heart, for even then the +Peace Conference was disintegrating the unhappy +country, forgetting all ties of past friendship in the wild, +mad effort to punish the war-makers—and in doing +so punished only the cat's-paws of Germany, while +Germany herself—— At that stage the past was not +yet past, and Wenzel hastened to turn the subject. +</p> + +<p> +"You are a thinker, Hervesi. Good, it is so much +the better. But listen. It is true what your son has +told you: I have sworn to kill Szamuelly. But my +task is difficult. In his Death Train he tears across +the country, never remaining in any one place, only just +long enough to kill honest Hungarians, and then he +is gone again. I cannot catch him up. Even to-night +I am an hour late, even now Szamuelly is many miles +away from me. +</p> + +<p> +"I must have an ally. Your son can help me. Whenever +he can obtain news of Szamuelly's destination he +can wire through to you, so that I can be there first, +and by God's will I can fulfil my oath. Do you think +he will do that for me, Hervesi?" +</p> + +<p> +"Excellency, I answer for him as I answer for +myself. Szamuelly must die," and all unconsciously +he uttered the words which for weeks now had haunted +the White Knight. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +The country was stirring; the faint rumblings of +discontent were growing louder and more insistent, +the seeds sown by the counter-revolutionaries were +ripening for the crop. The honest peasants were tired +of selling their goods for the worthless paper money +of the Soviet, the workmen were realizing that fifty +Soviet crowns were of little more use than five blue +crowns of the old Austro-Hungarian Bank. +</p> + +<p> +The knell of the Commune was sounding, the tocsin +for liberty ringing, and the people of Hungary were +muttering angrily, ominously. Only in Budapest was +the call still unheeded, though not unheard, for there +Bela Kun and his cronies ruled supreme, and people +were afraid to express their feelings for fear of +reprisals—revenge which might come from Cserni, whose red +car continually raced the streets of the city, from +Szamuelly with his Death Train, or from the inhuman +spider Korvin-Klein, who sat in his web devouring the +virulent as well as the inoffensive Whites with an +impartiality only equalled by his insatiable appetite. +</p> + +<p> +Away in distant parts the Whites were openly +preparing for battle. The Vends of Western Hungary, +forced to flee to Austria, were being joined by Hungarian +officers commanded by Baron Lehar. In Szeged, where +the fuel of counter-revolution burned brightest, a +White Government was being formed, with Nicholas +Horthy as Minister of War and Paul Teleki as Foreign +Secretary, while Generals Soos and Gombos were +organizing the White Army. +</p> + +<p> +If the members of the Supreme Soviet Council, kept +fully acquainted with the situation by their numerous +spies, were experiencing the first warnings of their +coming doom, under the thrall of the ranting Bela Kun +they hesitated to betray the fact. +</p> + +<p> +With an incredible faith in his waning star, to the +Dictator, any omens of a dark future were hidden +by roseate-hued visions of a World Commune, with +himself second only to Lenin or Trotsky. With an +unbounded nerve, of which one could scarcely dream +him capable, he demanded of the Allies the fulfilment +of their promise that on the cessation of hostilities +against the Czechs the Tisza should be evacuated by +the Rumanians, for day by day, keeping pace with the +atrocities committed by the Communists upon their +own people, the enemies of Hungary, Czecho-Slovakia, +Serbia, and Rumania, were advancing on all sides, +sometimes repulsed, but more often gaining the victory +over the less organized Red guards. +</p> + +<p> +That Clemenceau, President of the Peace Conference, +treated his message with disdain, ordering that Hungary +should observe the conditions of the Armistice before he +would treat with the Soviet Council, meant nothing to the +impudent Dictator, who ironically replied to Clemenceau +that he, Bela Kun, doubted the power of the President +to impose his will upon the Rumanians or the Czechs. +</p> + +<p> +Then, in defiance of the Peace Conference, he +issued orders for mobilization, and upon the walls of +Hungary's villages and towns appeared huge, glaring +posters of a sailor's figure, running and holding aloft a +Red flag, which bore the inscription: "FEGYUERBE!" Ex-soldiers, +who for long years had fought the Serbians +and Russians, gazed upon the crude recruiting pictures, +read the call "To Arms," and realized that fighting +must continue, even while their friends and relations +who remained at home were stabbed in the back by the +self-chosen leaders of the nation for whom they would +have to fight. +</p> + +<p> +Thus Bela Kun and his satellites failed to heed the +writing on the wall—the passing of the Bavarian Soviet, +the miscarriage of the Austrian Soviet, the failure of the +Russian Soviet to come to their assistance—and laughed +at the Allies, at the threatening armies of the Whites, +at the invading hordes of the neighbouring Slavs. +</p> + +<p> +There was only one who really sensed the change—Szamuelly; +in an effort to intimidate the recalcitrants +his Death Train tore from one end of the country to +the other, and all the time he hanged, butchered, +murdered, and the trail of corpses he left in his tracks grew +longer and longer. +</p> + +<p> +From Szamuelly and his hangmen the innocent and +guilty alike fled in terror; and the volume of their +curses grew louder, till their reverberating echoes +reached the ears of the spies, who in due course then +reported to the fiend himself. +</p> + +<p> +At the constant repetition of the threats he merely +laughed: it was not the individual he feared, but the +concerted whole. In his lightning trips he did not +fail to notice the signs of the growing White menace, +and so he said to Bela Kun, "Kill! Kill! Kill!" setting +a good example. +</p> + +<p> +Yet his day was to come, and Szamuelly had a hint +of it one morning when he received a letter addressed +to him at the Batthyany Palace. +</p> + +<p> +He slit open the envelope. Inside was a plain post +card on which were written six words only: +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Szamuelly shall die.<br> + THE WHITE KNIGHT<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Szamuelly felt a surge of murderous hate toward the +sender, and sent for Gunzi. +</p> + +<p> +When the detective arrived Szamuelly handed over +the card to the other. +</p> + +<p> +"Look, Comrade Gunzi, look! Here is another +message which I have to-day received through the +post." +</p> + +<p> +The detective took and inspected it with a quizzical +eye. "He seems certain of himself," he muttered calmly. +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly smashed his fist down upon the table +before him. "Do you think I sent for you to hear +that?" he shouted furiously, but to the acute ears of +the detective there was an undercurrent of fear in the +voice of the other. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what do you want of me?" he asked coolly. +</p> + +<p> +"Is there still no trace of the braggart?" +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi shook his head, and his lips tightened. "Not +yet, comrade. He is as elusive as a will-o'-the-wisp, +yet I shall trace him in the end. At Aszod, had not +Gonnard fled to Budapest, I should have arrested the +White Knight, and by now he would be but a memory." +</p> + +<p> +"Bah, child's talk! Did you not arrest him here, in +Budapest itself; did you not actually imprison him in +a cell underneath Parliament House, and did not you +and the fools on the Council let him free against my +advice? I should have hanged that man whether he +had been the White Knight or not." +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi bit his lip. "Who could have foreseen that +the White Knight had such a cunning trick up his +sleeve? That day in the Hapsburg Palace I would +have sworn an oath it was not he." +</p> + +<p> +"Even now I do not understand. I cannot get +Korvin-Klein to talk. Was it or was it not the White +Knight who appeared before us that morning?" +</p> + +<p> +"It was. My men trailed him for a time, and then—he +disappeared entirely. They reported to me. I hurried +to the room where I had arrested him the night before +and there I found a message from him thanking me +for my help in his escape." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes. All that I know. But what of his scars, +the difference in his expression, in the man himself?" +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi shrugged his shoulders. "The White Knight +could most easily tell you that. Myself, I have only a +theory." +</p> + +<p> +"And that?" +</p> + +<p> +"I believe that the White Knight's scars were +nothing but grease-paint. During the night he wiped +them off." +</p> + +<p> +"Good God!" Even into Szamuelly's unwilling +eyes there crept a glow of admiration, till suddenly +he remembered the message he had just received, and +shivered. +</p> + +<p> +"Gunzi, you must catch him soon. I begin to feel +nervous." +</p> + +<p> +"Why should you? You are surrounded by reliable +men. I do not think even the White Knight can pierce +through your gang of Terror Boys." +</p> + +<p> +"But the White Knight is uncanny." +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi sneered. "The White Knight is human. He +baffled me for a short time at Aszod, but in the end I +got on his track. Give me a week or two longer and +I shall bring him to you, and the next time... I hope +the Council will take your advice, Comrade Szamuelly, +and hang him anyway, right man or not." A spasm +of rage convulsed his face. "God! to think we had +the White Knight in our hands and let him go!" +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Hidden in a small copse some hundred yards distant +from the track, two men waited for the Death Train, +which was due to thunder toward them at any moment. +From where they were they could just see the red light +which sent out its warning ray from between the iron +parallels, and behind which lay a felled tree. +</p> + +<p> +"Why the red light, Geoffrey, why the warning? +Would it not be better to let the Death Train crash +into the obstruction, and so send it, Szamuelly, and all +his hangmen to Hell together?" +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I dared, Arnold, but I am afraid to take the +risk. The time-table is at the best of times irregular. +Supposing instead of the Death Train it were another +we wrecked? Suppose an unexpected express were to +come the other way? No, no, Arnold! I must rely upon +this," and he fondly patted the rifle which was stretched +out in front of him, significantly turned in the direction +of the barricade. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think you will get the opportunity—that +your courage will not fail you at the last moment?" +</p> + +<p> +The White Knight laughed softly: "Would you hesitate +to kill a rat, Arnold? To me the life of Szamuelly +is less than that of the meanest rodent. As for the rest, +I can only hope that he will not suspect the truth and +cringe into the farthest corner of the coach." +</p> + +<p> +"Will not your constant warnings prepare him for +all eventualities? Tell me, Geoffrey, would not a swift, +silent blow be just as feasible? I do not understand the +reason of your repeated messages to him." +</p> + +<p> +"When should I ever get an opportunity for the +swift blow? He is surrounded night and day. From +the very first he has had his men under an Army +discipline, and set guards. No prince threatened by +anarchists has ever been better protected. No, Arnold, +do not think I play for melodramatic effect. +</p> + +<p> +"No will however strong, no courage however deep, +is proof in the long run against the insidious prickings +of fear. Threats, if sustained long enough, are like the +dripping of water on the hardest rock, the succession +of footsteps upon the toughest stone. +</p> + +<p> +"Sooner or later his nerve will crack. He will begin +to suspect even his own men, and when suspicion once +enters the mind nothing will drive it out again. When +that time comes he will hesitate to sleep lest during +those hours a knife should be plunged into his bosom. +He will fear to eat lest the food should be poisoned. +When he reaches that stage he will flee from the Death +Train, from his Terror Boys, perhaps even from Budapest, +and then he will be my prey, and I shall kill him +with more pleasure than I should have in exterminating +a rabid dog." +</p> + +<p> +"That is, of course, if you do not succeed to-night, +or at any other time?" +</p> + +<p> +"To-night is my one opportunity. The trick will +not work twice." +</p> + +<p> +"Why not shoot him when he stops at the villages? +From a near-by window..." +</p> + +<p> +"And if I missed? Arnold, I have seen that butcher +hang men and torture children for the mere love of +cruelty. He scarcely seeks excuses for his vile work. +What would happen to the villagers if, as I have said, +I missed him? How many would he hang in revenge?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am dull-witted to-night, Geoffrey." +</p> + +<p> +"You are too happy to think of anyone or anything, +my dear chap," Wenzel said softly; then he sighed. +"I envy you, Arnold, but I am glad, deuced glad! +You have earned your reward and Cecile...." +</p> + +<p> +Arnold laughed happily: "I had not meant to say +a word to her, but last night ... you must have noticed +the moon, Geoffrey; it seemed to have a smirk on its +face, and when I looked at it, it seemed to wink at me +and then grin derisively. The next thing I knew the +words were out of my mouth, Cecile was in my arms, +her lips pressing against mine.... I wonder why I +am telling you all this, Geoffrey? I had always thought +that a man's sensations on such a night were sacred to +himself alone." +</p> + +<p> +In his heart Wenzel agreed, for every word that +Arnold uttered flayed his soul, seared into his heart, +and reminded him of another night when the moon +had winked at him in the same way, and a similar +torrent of passionate words had forced themselves from +his lips.... Memories! Memories! Was he never +going to be free of them? Memories of Zita! +Memories of Elizabeth! His heart cried out in agony, +but his voice was calm when he answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Because your happiness is mine, Arnold." His +lips curved ironically as he wondered dimly whether +his lips had ever uttered a greater lie. +</p> + +<p> +There was a short silence, but Arnold was bubbling +over with too great a joy to remain quiet very long. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know, Geoffrey, this is the first time we +have talked together, alone like this, since the day you +walked free from the hands of the Communists? All +this time my curiosity has remained unappeased. How +in the name of God did you deceive them? Your—your +scars, Geoffrey, what happened to them? Why +have you avoided the <i>château</i>? Why have you restlessly +moved about from place to place, as though some +one forced you ever onwards? Before then I—I had +thought——" +</p> + +<p> +"Stop!" Wenzel heard the fatal words before they +were even uttered. "As my friend, Arnold, do not +question me; do not endeavour to awaken cherished +thoughts which must be for ever buried and forgotten." +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, I am sorry! I did not realize. I——" +</p> + +<p> +"Arnold, please!" His voice was weary. "Remember +this. I have no personal feelings left. They +are dead, killed in the first case by the Communists, +and then again by——" Just in time he stopped +himself. Another moment and he might have mentioned +Elizabeth's name. "As for the scars... Arnold, I +battled with myself for hours that morning. When I +awoke in a cell and realized that the Communists had +me at last, I knew it to be but a matter of hours before +I should be dispatched from this world, but I was not +unprepared. When I first became the White Knight I +knew that the possibility of my being captured +eventually was a hundred to one on, so I took necessary +precautions. But for one thing, however, I should +never have made use of them. +</p> + +<p> +"You never suspected my down-at-heel boots as +harbouring any means of escape, did you, Arnold? +As a matter of fact, they were not down-at-heel, for both +heels were hollow. Inside were two thick sticks of +grease-paint, Arnold. I rubbed them well into the +wounds; rubbed and rubbed until at last each scar was +erased in turn, the thick grease-paint effectively hiding +them. After that I powdered them well, so that nothing +was noticeable except a white pallor over the whole of +my face. Then, on top of it all, dirt; not just a coat of +dust which might wipe off, but thick, ingrained dirt. +Have you ever rubbed dirt into a greasy substance? +It was perfectly effective, as you know." +</p> + +<p> +"Good Lord, it is amazing! Yet—forgive me if +I hurt your feelings—that much I understand; but the +wound across your scalp, your eyebrow, and—and—your +twisted cheek?" He choked slightly; it was hard +to mention such things to the White Knight himself. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel smiled softly to himself. Poor old Arnold! +How his words stumbled! +</p> + +<p> +"I had prepared for all that, Arnold. I had ready +a little pad, a tiny strip of flesh-coloured canvas, on to +which was stuck a not inconsiderable portion of my +own hair from another part of the scalp. Liquid gum, +similar to that used in theatrical circles, was more than +sufficient to keep the shaped canvas in its place. Then +I dyed my hair, parted it on the other side—what +parting I could induce my cropped hair to display—brushed +the remainder the other way, and that scar +was concealed. +</p> + +<p> +"My eyebrow I treated in exactly the same way. +As for my mouth, a tiny little ivory chip inside did the +trick, by pulling and keeping the flesh more or less as +it should be naturally. Incidentally, it hurt like the +Devil, but against that it helped disguise my voice, so +it served a double purpose. +</p> + +<p> +"My changed appearance plus a likely story and +a possibility of leading them on the track of the +White Knight earned me my freedom. I had but +one thing to fear—that they would hang me from +pure spite, but—I must be more than a bad penny, +for here I am." +</p> + +<p> +Had Arnold been less in a state of profound fascination +he might have detected the bitter tinge which +crept into his leader's last words; even now there was +still one question he wished to ask. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, old man, I have never heard anything +more marvellous in all my life, yet won't you tell me +why you hesitated, that morning in your cell, to make +your plans for escape, and what, at the last moment, +made you change your mind?" There was a wistful +note in his voice. In his present happiness he wished +all his friends to share it. +</p> + +<p> +Purposely the White Knight ignored the first part of +the question. "The thought of this moment," Wenzel +replied, and again he patted his rifle. "Szamuelly must +die." Suddenly he shot out his hand and grasped +Terhune's arm. "Listen!" he said harshly. +</p> + +<p> +From afar off they heard a faint murmuring, a +tremulous, echoing vibration. +</p> + +<p> +"The Death Train!" whispered Arnold. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel laughed throatily, and for the first time in +weeks there was a happy timbre in his tone. +</p> + +<p> +The noise of the shrieking monster pounding toward +them through the night grew louder, and some way off +its fiery beacon flashed into view as it rounded a curve. +Swaying in its stride it thundered forward; then with +a wild groan, wrung protestingly from it by the fierce +application of the brakes, it slowed up until it came to +a stop, scarcely fifty yards from the warning red light, +snorting its fury into the air. +</p> + +<p> +The immediate neighbourhood of the Death Train +was lit up by the blaze of light from within, and the +two watchers were able to see the hurried exit of several +men from the second coach, clambering down to the +ground and running forward into the night. +</p> + +<p> +With a steady hand the White Knight swung round +the sight of his rifle; unwaveringly it pointed to the +exit of the first coach, and there waited.... +</p> + +<p> +The men who had rushed forward to investigate +returned once again into the radius of the light. They +were gesticulating wildly. A window swung up, a +smooth, purring voice, which the White Knight believed +to be that of Szamuelly, rang out, questioning. +</p> + +<p> +The rifle swung round, pointing significantly toward +the man at the window, but the White Knight was +not sure, so he waited. There must be no mistake that +night. +</p> + +<p> +The man withdrew his head from the window. +Almost immediately he emerged from the obscurity of +the exit, and the White Knight saw that he had made +no mistake. It was indeed Szamuelly! +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly was talking excitedly, but he was standing +still; the rifle moved slightly, the White Knight's +finger quivered for the fatal pull, but—the Devil +protects his own! At the sight of the arch-fiend Wenzel's +wrath blazed up anew, shaking him in its grip. A tiny +shadow floated before his eyes, the sharp outline of the +Communist against the light became dim and obscure. +</p> + +<p> +Desperately the White Knight realized his prey was +moving back into the coach again, doubtless to sleep +while his men moved the obstruction. Unless he fired +now it might be too late. His index finger tightened. +The next moment the air resounded with the terrifying +crash of six explosions; the glass of the coach was +shattered, the bullets ricochetted in every direction, +there was a moan of pain as one of the Terrorists +spun round and dropped to the ground, but—Szamuelly +remained upright, unhurt, and untouched. Even as +Wenzel noted the fact he saw the Communist darting +for cover. With a sob in his throat he realized the +ghastly truth. He had failed! +</p> + +<p> +The next moment there was a fusillade from the train, +as the Terrorists snatched their ever-ready revolvers +from their holsters and opened fire in the direction +from which the shots had come; but they did no good, +for Wenzel and Terhune were already speeding from +the spot in the automobile by which they had arrived. +</p> + +<p> +"Not yet, Arnold, not yet has Szamuelly's time +come." The White Knight sobbed the words as he +drove the car along the pitch-dark road. "But it will! +I swear it will! Szamuelly must die! Szamuelly shall +die!" +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER XX</i> +</h2> + +<p> +In the fading days of the Red Terror events +succeeded each other with precipitance. The fury of +the people against their bloody leaders grew more +intense, until at length the members of the Soviet began +to tremble in their shoes. +</p> + +<p> +By threats and wholesale murder they endeavoured +to squash the national awakening, but in vain. The +starving people could not buy food, for all the thousands +of white Soviet paper crowns they might flourish: the +peasants would not sell their goods for worthless money. +</p> + +<p> +No longer were the Red troops keeping back the +Rumanians or the Czechs; the Peace Conference was +awakening to a true realization of affairs in Budapest. +</p> + +<p> +Now one by one the rats began to leave the sinking +ship, and among the first batch was Gunzi, the astute +detective, who knew which side his bread was buttered. +</p> + +<p> +Well guarded, the shivering Szamuelly called at his +apartment one day, to find Gunzi in the throes of +packing up, for he who had come to Budapest with nothing +had already collected enough from what pickings had +been left by the time he arrived there to fill three large +trunks, themselves confiscated in the name of the Soviet +Government. +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly frowned. "Hullo, Comrade Gunzi, where +are you off to?" +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi laughed cynically: "To better parts, my +friend, to better parts." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean? Has Budapest meant so little +to you that already you are tired of its attractions?" +</p> + +<p> +The detective grinned. "Ho, ho, Comrade Szamuelly! +Budapest is finished for you and for me and for +all good Communists. Our day is over. You know it +as well as I, friend. In my hunt for your cursed White +Knight I have here and there come across traces of a vast +White plot, fostered and prepared by the English devil +in between times when he has not been hunting you. +</p> + +<p> +"I have ears in my head, I have eyes which can see +well. In a few weeks' time, perhaps not so long as that, +the Commune will be finished, and God keep us all +from the clutches of the White Terror! Mark my +words, Comrade Szamuelly, and take heed of them if +you are a wise man: there will be a White Terror, as +sure as my name is—is supposed to be—Gunzi! Do +you not think that the fathers, mothers, sisters, and +sons of some of the men you have hanged will clamour +for revenge? Eh? The answer is 'yes.' I would, so +would you—if for no other reason than that it would +show our sympathy with the new Government in wishing +to be avenged on the old one, and it is wiser to keep +on the right side of governments in these days. +</p> + +<p> +"I became a Communist with my eyes open, and +they are still open, my friend. That is why I go.... +Whither? Well, I do not know. To Austria perhaps, +or Russia, where they have a good way with Whites, +or even Italy; anywhere, say I, rather than stop here." +</p> + +<p> +To Szamuelly the words needed no confirmation; +all that Gunzi had just said he himself had suspected +for some time, but desperately he had continued to hope +for the best. +</p> + +<p> +"But—but you swore to get me the White Knight!" +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi cursed. "I have tried, my friend, but one might +as well try to catch the raindrops as they fall. He is +the Devil himself!—jealous of you, perhaps, Comrade +Szamuelly," and he laughed slyly at his own humour. +</p> + +<p> +"May Hell burn his bones!" The Communist +looked nervously around him with twitching eyes: +"Gunzi, I cannot stand the strain! He is everywhere! +Where my Death Train goes he is there before me with +the message 'Szamuelly shall die!' I see him in the +men who surround me; even among my Terror Boys +he must have his spies. My nerves are fraying, my +courage disappearing." +</p> + +<p> +Gunzi laughed heartlessly: "You are going just the +same way as did Commissary Gonnard. I have never +seen such a jelly-bag in all my life as he at the end +of one day. He fled here, to Budapest, but finally +the White Knight caught him, and hanged him from +the Suspension Bridge." +</p> + +<p> +"But how can he get me—how can he?" Desperately +the white-faced Szamuelly put the question, a very +different Szamuelly from the one who had scornfully +sneered at the first threats of the White Knight. "I am +surrounded by my faithful Terror Boys—they guard +me now night and day—how can he get past them?" +</p> + +<p> +The detective shrugged his shoulders: "Don't ask +me, friend; I do not know. All I say is that he will +in the long run. Besides, didn't you yourself say you +thought he had a spy among them? Take my advice. +Do as I am doing. Pack and fly for it, my friend!" and +with the sound of Gunzi's mocking laughter in his ears +Szamuelly stumbled from the room. +</p> + +<p> +By the time he reached the street his face was chalky, +his lips trembled nervously. Gunzi's words haunted +him; somehow they had rung so prophetically in his +ears. He felt his nerve cracking. His only hope, the +one man he felt could have tracked the White Knight, +was fleeing, not only from the city, but from the country +altogether. Now there was no one to guard him against +the machinations of the White Knight! His Terror Boys +... in their brutal way they were brave enough, possibly +thoroughly loyal, but Szamuelly had no faith in them; all +their bravery was of no use compared with the White +Knight's cunning, all their loyalty was likely to evaporate +at the sight of the White Knight's well-filled purse. +</p> + +<p> +Two Terror Boys walked by his side. "What's +the matter, comrade?" asked one. "You do not look +yourself." +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly shrugged his shoulders helplessly: "I +am not, my friend. To-day I have received bad +news—news which affects you—I—all of us." +</p> + +<p> +"Bad news which affects us all! What can that +be? The only bad news you could give us would be +that neither wine nor women remained in the world." +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly laughed shortly: "Yet, my friend, what +I have to say is worse than that. The Commune is +finished, the days of commissaries ended." +</p> + +<p> +The Terror Boys looked at him as if they wondered +what madness had come over their leader. +</p> + +<p> +"You are not well," growled the second guard, who +had not yet spoken. +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly turned upon him in a temper: "Fools, +fools! So you think I am mad! Blockheads, can't you +see the truth when it is thrust before you? Let me put +it to you in a way you will understand. To-night I leave +Budapest for Russia, or Austria, or Italy—anywhere, so +long as I escape." +</p> + +<p> +The two Terror Boys stopped in their walk and +gazed at Szamuelly with strained expressions. He had +spoken in words which they understood. If he were +fleeing, he, after Bela Kun the leading light of the +Red Terror, then indeed the good days must be finished. +They knew their Szamuelly, and no longer did they +doubt the truth. It was no trick to get rid of them. +</p> + +<p> +Yet a certain suspicion suggested itself to one of +them. "It is not the White Knight?" he queried. +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly shivered at the mention of the name, yet +he would have hotly denied the imputation had he not +realized the fruitlessness of so doing. Besides, a plan +was formulating in his brain. +</p> + +<p> +"I will be frank with you, comrades," he said, +after a pause. "I am afraid of the White Knight. Yet +listen. If I thought that the Soviet were likely to last +I would dare the Enemy of the Commune to do his +worst, for I should have all of you, my friends, to +guard me against this cursed <i>bourgeois</i>; but ... let us +continue in our walk. I want to make all the necessary +arrangements...." +</p> + +<p> +"To scuttle?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, my friends, to scuttle." +</p> + +<p> +There was food for thought in what he had said, and +each of his guards digested in his mind the astounding +news of which he had just been made cognizant. The +one who spoke little thought the harder. +</p> + +<p> +"My friend," he said softly to Szamuelly, "even +though you flee there is still—the White Knight!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well!" Szamuelly turned on him savagely. "Do +you not think I know that as well as you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes. But listen, Comrade Szamuelly. Would +you not feel safer if you had a comrade—or, say, two +good comrades—with you when you escape?" +</p> + +<p> +The second Terror Boy laughed shortly. "My God +You are right. Two good comrades, eh, Szamuelly! +Three of us—we three—could put up a fight against +even the White Knight." +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly's eyes gleamed. So easily had they fallen +into the trap which he had laid for them! "Bravo +my friends! Then that is settled. We will go together +but ... listen! Supposing that the rest of our +comrades hear the news. They too will want to come." +</p> + +<p> +"Why should they?" asked the soft-tongued one. +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly!" agreed Szamuelly. "Then when shall it be?" +</p> + +<p> +"The sooner the better, if what you say in true." +</p> + +<p> +Could the guard have been at the Soviet meeting +taking place at that very moment he would not have +needed to add that last rider. Amidst an atmosphere of +stark tragedy Bela Kun was resigning the Dictatorship +of the Proletariat. In a halting, tearful tone he was +informing his followers of the truth—that the Red Army +had collapsed, the Rumanians had crossed the Tisza, +the Whites had already brought about their <i>coup d'état</i>, +while all over the country red geraniums were being +discarded for white roses, and the Red ensign of bloody +Communism was being supplanted by the national flag. +</p> + +<p> +Forcefully he drove home the truth: the day of the +Commune was ended, and those who valued their necks +more than the power they had wielded for the last six +months could do worse than resign; he himself set the +example. +</p> + +<p> +So fell the Dictatorship of the Proletariat on July 30, +1919, and the government of Hungary was transferred +to the Presidency of Peidl, who appointed ministers +instead of commissaries, and called his government a +"Workmen's Government." +</p> + +<p> +In the meanwhile, with the assistance of his two +comrades, Szamuelly prepared for flight, blithely +abandoning his fellow-murderers to their fate. +</p> + +<p> +In less than an hour he was packed, while outside +the building throbbingly awaited the motor-car which +was to rush him and his two Terror Boys to the station +to catch the first train to Austria. +</p> + +<p> +With a hasty look to see that he had left nothing behind, +for the last time he closed the door of the apartment +which he had confiscated a few months previously. +</p> + +<p> +There was a grin on the faces of the two Terror Boys +who sat in the car. They saw nothing of treachery in +their flight, only a satisfaction that they were one jump +ahead of their fellow-Terrorists, that they were escaping +the threatened upheaval, of which the others, left +behind, would have to bear the brunt. That is why +they smiled—or at any rate why one smiled. The +soft-tongued guard smiled because the White Knight had paid +even more handsomely than usual for certain information, +and several crisp Bank of England notes reposed +comfortably in the lining of his dirty regimental coat. +</p> + +<p> +For the first time for weeks Szamuelly actually felt +light of heart—not because he was giving up his position +of official murderer, not really because he feared the +White uprising, but because he was leaving the White +Knight behind, escaping beyond reach of the White +Knight's vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded cheerfully to the Terrorist who sat at the +steering-wheel: "Go ahead, comrade! There is just +time in which to catch that train." +</p> + +<p> +The guard depressed the clutch, and with a grinding +whine of annoyance the engine slipped into low. +Szamuelly settled himself comfortably. A few hours now +and he would be able actually to breathe without feeling +a queer catch somewhere inside just near his heart. +</p> + +<p> +He looked round, a last parting glance at the streets +of Budapest, then suddenly he sobbed with a consuming +terror, one which clutched his heart in a violent, +chilling constriction, a fear which fluttered through his +body, freezing his very marrow, draining the blood +from his face and leaving it deathly white. +</p> + +<p> +Barely five yards behind followed another car; +beside the driver sat the White Knight, tense and +expressionless like the grim figure of Fate. +</p> + +<p> +There was no doubt as to his identity. His face pale +with a consuming fury, his scars throbbed redder in +contrast. His steely eyes bored hypnotically into +Szamuelly's, and in them the Communist read a mocking +surety of victory—his death-warrant. +</p> + +<p> +A month ago he would have plucked his revolver +from its holster and opened fire on the audacious +pursuer, but now—he was paralysed with fright, his +nerve entirely gone. He could only gasp, and crouch +further into the body of the car. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, God!" he moaned. "Oh, God! Oh, God!" Then +with a shriek he raised his voice, "Quicker, +quicker!" and the Terrorist who was driving looked +round with a startled air. "Quicker!" screamed +Szamuelly, and the pace increased till the already shaky +sides of the automobile began to rock unsteadily. +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly looked back; the relative positions of the +two cars had scarcely changed ... once again he looked +into the eyes of the White Knight.... +</p> + +<p> +He leaned forward. "Comrade, for God's sake ... the +aerodrome! ... Behind us the White Knight ... lose +his car, we will fly to Russia...." +</p> + +<p> +The driver looked behind him, and the car swayed +ominously toward an oncoming automobile as his +nerveless fingers suddenly lost their firm grip on the +wheel. Just in time the smooth-tongued one clutched +and held the wheel on a straighter course. +</p> + +<p> +The narrow escape from a terrible collision only +served to make the driver turn still whiter, but at the +same time he was filled with a desperate desire to escape, +and instinctively he turned his attention to the +car—anything to draw away from the dreaded White Knight—and +his foot pressed still harder on the accelerator. +</p> + +<p> +He knew the streets well, did Szamuelly's driver, +for once upon a time, before he had been imprisoned +for robbery with violence, he had been a chauffeur. +Filled with a determination to lose their pursuer, +without the slightest slackening, without a warning +note, he shot off down a side road. +</p> + +<p> +The car rocked over to a dangerous angle, but by +a miracle settled down again, and the next second was +away in the distance, even while Francis Bakocz, who +was driving the pursuing car, little suspecting the +sudden manœuvre, overshot the road and, with the +brakes shrieking and wailing, came to a stop too late, +so that he had to reverse and back. By the time he was +in the side road Szamuelly's car had disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Francis looked at the White Knight inquiringly, but +Wenzel was puzzled. As the car turned the Terrorist +in his pay had shot his arm up into the air, and his +pointing finger had waved in the direction of the +heavens. It was a signal; that much Wenzel could +guess; but what was its portent he could not gather. +</p> + +<p> +Francis drove wildly on, tearing down the side road +at breakneck speed, unheeding the cursing pedestrians +who shook their fists and growled; but Szamuelly's +Terrorist knew his work, and there was no sign of +the car in front. To stop and inquire would be waste +of time—in the meantime Szamuelly would escape—but +there was apparently nothing else to be done; but, +even as Francis slowed up, Wenzel suddenly turned, +an idea germinating in his mind. +</p> + +<p> +"Francis, quick, is there an aerodrome in this +direction?" +</p> + +<p> +The boy, for he was scarcely more in years, even if +the last few months had aged him in experience, nodded. +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel laughed. "That is where he has gone. For +God's sake, get there quickly!" +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Szamuelly's car was nearing the +aerodrome. Aeroplanes were waiting—he could see +them, their outstretched wings gleaming whitely in the +sun, their pilots scattered about the field. +</p> + +<p> +The car drew up, steaming, and Szamuelly tumbled out. +</p> + +<p> +"Comrade," he gasped to one of the pilots, "I am +Comrade Szamuelly, a People's Commissary. I ... I +seek a consultation in Russia with Lenin, concerning +the glorious future of a united European Soviet. You +will take me there. I will pay you well—very +well—many thousands of crowns." +</p> + +<p> +"Why shouldn't I, comrade? I am fond of money. +Come to-morrow and I will see what I can do." +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow? To-morrow is of no use—I must go +now, at once ... this very minute!" His voice rose, +and the pilot looked at him with a questioning glance. +</p> + +<p> +"You are in a hurry, comrade! What bites you? +Lenin is not dying, is he?" +</p> + +<p> +"Delay not, for God's sake, comrade! The White +Knight is after us. He may arrive at any minute +now." It was the smooth-tongued one who spoke. +</p> + +<p> +His words were not without effect. The pilot's face +creased into ugly lines, and he turned upon Szamuelly +with a threatening air: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, ho, my friend! You do not speak altogether +the truth. The White Knight! I have heard of +him too often for my own peace of mind. You had best +find some one else to take you. I do not relish hanging +from the Suspension Bridge." He turned away. +</p> + +<p> +"I will make it ten, twenty thousand crowns, comrade, +if you will but take me." He was sobbing now. +</p> + +<p> +The pilot laughed harshly. "Of what use are twenty +thousand crowns in Hell, my friend? I prefer to spend +them in Budapest. Find some one else." +</p> + +<p> +With streaming tears Szamuelly begged the pilots, +one after another, to take him to Russia. Once there, +so he told them, they would be safe from the White +Knight's vengeance. But his pleas were of no avail. +They—who did not yet know the Commune was +cracking up, even at that very moment—had no wish +to abandon Hungary yet, and besides, they sneered, +there were Rumanian planes and Czech planes to pass +before Russia was reached, and they had had enough +fighting to last them for a while. +</p> + +<p> +Before five minutes had passed Szamuelly knew his +quest was useless, and also by that time the train to +Austria would be gone; before the next went, God +alone knew what might happen! There was only one +way out of the country. +</p> + +<p> +He turned to his fellow-Terrorists. "Comrades, +drive like Hell for the Austrian frontier. It is the only +thing left now." +</p> + +<p> +They bought petrol, for Szamuelly was afraid to +confiscate, and started off, five minutes before Wenzel +and Francis arrived. While the White Knight remained +under cover Francis made inquiries. +</p> + +<p> +The pilots looked at him with suspicion when he +asked if Szamuelly had been there, but he seemed too +young to be connected with the White Knight, so they +grinned and told him that he was not likely to see the +commissary any more. +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" They laughed when Francis put the +question. "Because he is on his way to Austria. The +White Knight is after him." +</p> + +<p> +"The White Knight! Who the Hell is he?" asked +Francis naïvely. In asking the question he had meant +to be diplomatic, but when ten minutes passed before +they had finished telling him all about the White Knight +he cursed himself for being such an idiot. +</p> + +<p> +At length he got away. Wenzel's face hardened +when he heard the news. +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" he said, and gazed at Francis. +</p> + +<p> +The boy grinned. "I am ready, monsieur." +</p> + +<p> +Wenzel's eyes softened. "Good lad!" he exclaimed +quietly, and Francis suddenly lost his fear of the hideous +White Knight, whom he had met personally for the +first time only a few days previously. +</p> + +<p> +So they started off. Later they reached the road to +the Austrian frontier, and not until then did Francis +open out the throttle. +</p> + +<p> +For the first hour they saw nothing of the car ahead, +but when they made inquiries, at different farmhouses +on the road, they heard that Szamuelly's car had passed +about half an hour previously, so Francis increased the +speed—so much so that by the time they had covered +another thirty miles Szamuelly's car was but ten to +fifteen minutes in advance of them. +</p> + +<p> +While Francis was increasing his speed, the Terrorist +in the car in front was slowing down. For the last two +hours there had been no trace of the White Knight, +and gradually the spirits of the Terror Boys, and even +those of Szamuelly himself, rose higher. +</p> + +<p> +Now there did not seem so much need for haste +they began to linger, to talk more boldly and exchange +reminiscences. Even the smooth-tongued one spoke +a little more, for supposing the White Knight did not +catch up again there was certainly enough money +hidden in his clothes to last him for some time; and +he was equally prepared to desert the White Knight as +he had been his Communist leader. +</p> + +<p> +The time passed by, and steadily the distance to the +Austrian border decreased. Then suddenly Szamuelly +saw, perhaps a mile back, a trail of dust rising into the air. +</p> + +<p> +"By God! Look!" The words burst from hie lips +unconsciously. The two Terrorists glanced back. +</p> + +<p> +The chauffeur groaned: "The White Knight!" But +his companion unconsciously scratched the palm of his +hand—more good English money for his little store! +</p> + +<p> +The Terrorist pressed down his foot, the car shot +forward, and underneath the wheels the road slid past +too quickly for the eye to follow; but Francis had seen +them, and had the better car. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long and thrilling chase; both cars were +speeding to their limit, but yard by yard the White +Knight crept closer, till Szamuelly was damp with a +cold sweat. +</p> + +<p> +A mile, half a mile, quarter of a mile, until at last the +two cars were within pistol-shot of one another, and the +hour of the White Knight's vengeance seemed very near. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps another fifteen minutes would have seen the +two cars level, and then... Fate for once was against +the White Knight. With an internal choking his car +came to a gradual halt, and Francis swore. "Petrol," +he said briefly. Fortunately there were spare tins +behind, but in the meantime Szamuelly drew away. +</p> + +<p> +What were the feelings of Szamuelly when he saw +the pursuing car come to a sudden stop will never be +known, but it must have seemed to him then that some +kindly angel had come to his aid, and his fear dropped +from him, so that, all at once, he was in the highest of +spirits. He laughed, sang, and joked, confident that +he had seen the last of the White Knight. +</p> + +<p> +The car drove on; there was an intoxicating spirit of +cheerfulness surrounding them. On ... on to Austria! +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly gave one final glance back, and saw, in +the far distance, a rising cloud of dust, approaching +with incredible rapidity, but fear no longer reigned in +his heart, for, as the Communist glanced from side to +side, he recognized Lajta Ujfalu in the distance, and +knew that before many minutes passed he would be safe +in Austria. Derisively he waved his hand. "Good-bye, +White Knight!" he called out mockingly. "Good-bye, +Hungary!" +</p> + +<p> +On ... on. One thousand yards to safety, five +hundred, four hundred ... and then—Nemesis! +</p> + +<p> +As they passed a tiny copse there was a rain of +bullets, and they saw a group of hidden, uniformed +men—Hungarian <i>gendarmerie</i>, already self-organized at +the first rumours of the Soviet's downfall. The driver +sighed gently and collapsed. The car jumped forward +for twenty yards—there was a tearing, rending crash—and +the battered skeleton of what just before had been +a live, pulsating automobile overturned. +</p> + +<p> +Szamuelly staggered from out the wreckage. Through +the bloody film which mistily obstructed his vision he +saw men running toward him, shouting and shooting; +suddenly he felt a burning, searing pain which vibrated +through his body. He wanted to fall, to give up, but +an instinct for life urged him forward. He braced up +and staggered on—the frontier was just ahead—three +hundred yards and he would be safe.... +</p> + +<p> +The fear of death lent him wings—the excitement of +the chase blinded the eyes of the pursuing gendarmes—and +suddenly Szamuelly knew he was across the frontier.... +Safe! ... Safe! The Hungarians would never +dare to shoot now.... He lurched on and on, smiling +grimly, triumphantly. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>gendarmes</i> clustered together on the borderline, +cursing, and watched their prey escape. There were no +Austrian <i>Volkswehr</i> to be seen, but, scarcely recovered +from the heavy yoke of the Soviet, they feared to +advance or to fire, and thus provoke international +complications. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the position when, with a sobbing grind, +Francis brought his car to a stop. The White Knight +jumped out, but there was no need for words. Szamuelly +had all but escaped ... two minutes more and he +would be beyond all hope of revenge. +</p> + +<p> +With a rapid gesture Wenzel seized a rifle from out +the hands of one of the <i>gendarmes</i>, and, putting it to +his shoulder, sighted the staggering Communist. The +figure was small and moving erratically.... Wenzel's +hands shook unsteadily. With an effort of will he +steadied them, and suddenly Szamuelly was clearly +before his eyes, dead between the forked sight. +</p> + +<p> +The rifle flashed—for one vibrant, palpitating second +nothing happened. Then Szamuelly just dropped—never +to move again.... +</p> + +<p> +"Too good a death," grumbled the awakened +people of Hungary when they heard the news. +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +That night Bela Kun, Weiss, Schwarz, Vago, Pogany, +and Landler, together with all their families, stole +quietly into one of the Budapest stations where a train +was ready for them, steam up, impatiently awaiting the +guard's command. The rats were fleeing—escaping +with the connivance of the new Peidl Government, +but, still more paradoxically, protected from their own +people by an escort supplied by the Italian military +mission stationed in Budapest. +</p> + +<p> +Only one was missing from the party—Szamuelly! +The clock ticked on, the time passed rapidly. In +the end they could wait no longer. The guard +signalled, the train steamed out, <i>en route</i> to Austria; +and so passed out of the pages of history Bela Kun and +his colleagues. Once again justice was denied the +people of Hungary, for with the help of the Allies +the train reached and crossed the Austrian frontier, and +the Communists were safe—safe to live thereafter a life +of ease, when they ought to have hanged, while those +they left behind, betrayed by their leaders to the last, +later suffered the extreme penalty. Even to this day it +is said that somewhere in Russia Bela Kun still lives. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap21"></a></p> + +<h2> +<i>CHAPTER XXI</i> +</h2> + +<p> +Peace at last! With the occupation of Budapest +by the Rumanians a sane Government +was formed, inspired by a proclamation of the +Archduke Joseph, and if the city were still systematically +robbed by the Rumanian occupiers of what little +was left to it, at any rate the thefts, under the name of +reparations, were more legal, and less bitter. +</p> + +<p> +To the gasping, starved citizens of Budapest the +change was well worth it. At least they could walk the +streets openly by day or night without fear of sudden +death, of molestation and imprisonment which meant +worse than death; they could, at any rate, obtain what +food there was, without producing red or blue tickets. +</p> + +<p> +For the first time in months there was peace and happiness +in the hearts of the Hungarian people. Their chins +uplifted, their eyes sparkling, they walked the streets of +the cities, the highways and the byways of the country. +Once again they had come into their own. +</p> + +<p> +In less than a week the Château Juhusz was empty +of all those who had been living there: empty of them +all save one. No longer did the decaying walls echo +with the sound of voices, no longer were its derelict +rooms embellished with flowers, decorated with pieces +of carved wood and crude charcoal drawings. +</p> + +<p> +No more did the Count and Countess Bakocz hold +court in their pitiful apology for a <i>salon</i>, nor did Imre +Kiss, leaning still more heavily on his walking-stick, +pass from room to room, his head bowed with thought, +longing only once more to work upon his beloved +manuscript, to write "Finis" to his tale of the glories +of the Kings of Hungary. +</p> + +<p> +If the drooping <i>château</i> sighed for the absence of +the elder victims of the Red Terror, how much more +did it miss the youthful Francis, with his tales of the +White Knight's daring, with his unconcealed pride in +his first adventures under the Enemy of the Commune's +leadership, the infectious laughter of Elizabeth Kiss, +and best of all the flowering romance of Cecile and +Arnold, their 'chance' meetings in darkened corners, +their timid whispers, their hidden blushes. +</p> + +<p> +Once again was the aged <i>château</i> desolate, the sport of +the wind which mockingly howled round its crumbling +gables, and of the rain which dripped through its +dissolving mortar, percolating into the interior, revivifying +the moss; once again the weeds grew bolder in the +grounds, already beginning to sprout where the amateur +gardeners had stamped them out, and, as they grew, so +for the second time the spirit of the <i>château</i> decayed, +after having been revived for a brief period by the +occupation by the pursued and outlawed nobility. +</p> + +<p> +Dank and dismal, the <i>château</i> drooped, cheerless and +uninviting—a home for nothing except for rats and +mice, which once again invaded its unfortified barriers, +burrowing through its rotting wood, and for the owls +which snuggled back into their usurped corners. +</p> + +<p> +Yet there was one who lived there still, one whose +heart was as cold as the draughts, whose spirits were +as mournful as the dismal moaning of the wind. +</p> + +<p> +His work was finished. The task of the White +Knight was ended, and here, where the woman he now +cherished had lived, he attempted to forget, to wash from +his mind all thoughts of his two Hungarian loves. +</p> + +<p> +He was successful in weaning his thoughts from +Zita, for Time, the master-healer, had washed his +wound of the hurt: she was a lingering memory, a +sweet fragrance of yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +It was his recollection of Elizabeth which tortured +him. She seemed so real, so near, and yet so far away. +She was of the immediate present, as real as Zita was +just a fairy phantom from some delicious dream. +</p> + +<p> +When Geoffrey knew Hungary to be free at last +from the tentacles of the Red octopus he realized that +his work was ended. No more need to rescue unhappy +victims of the Terror, no longer the necessity +to counteract the evil purposes of the Communists, to +hurry refugees across the border, to assist the Whites +in preparing their great <i>coup d'état</i>. +</p> + +<p> +What more could the world want of him now? +Bitterly he answered his own query. Nothing! The +world had no use for a vile, scarred, atrocious specimen +of humanity such as he. It forgets so easily, and once +the world ceased to remember the honour, the glory, +of the scars of war, he would remain only a being of +disgust, a revolting spectacle, an object of pity. +</p> + +<p> +Pity! That would be worse than anything. Pity! +Perhaps it would be: "Poor Geoffrey—but, you +know..." The fatal "but." There would be no +invitations for him—he might frighten the other +guests! Not that he cared a damn; but supposing +he married? ... And, like all mental arguments, his +thoughts finished where they began—with Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +Because of his attempted suicide—for he did not +blink his eyes to the fact that it was attempted suicide +deliberately to invite the Reds to murder him—he +must bear a cross during the rest of his life. That was +his punishment—his face his cross. Or was it rather +his hopeless love for Elizabeth? +</p> + +<p> +Those were days of bitterness! His brain no longer +busy with schemes and plans for the succour of others, +his time no longer fully taken up, his thoughts turned to +himself and his future, and in desperation he fled to the +empty <i>château</i> to work out his own salvation, to forget! +</p> + +<p> +To forget! It was not long before he realized that +of all the places in which to do this he had chosen the +worst. What chance was there of forgetting when every +corner reminded him of Elizabeth—perhaps she had sat +there—or there—or there? She—she had slept in that +room, he remembered—and that room became his shrine. +</p> + +<p> +In the woods were the flowers she had loved so +much—their sweet, dewy smell was reminiscent of her, as +was the purity of the white flowers, for they were her +soul, the richness of the red flowers, for they were her +cheeks, the softness of the pansies, for they were her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +The insects chirruped of her, the whispering of the +wind through the forest trees sang of her, the tiny +brooklet running near by babbled of her. Worst of all +the moon, the broad, round face of the moon, as it +majestically rose into the clear heavens, winked +derisively at him, or frowned at him, shedding its silver +beams through the interlaced boughs of the trees. +</p> + +<p> +So the days passed, the heart of Geoffrey growing +more sullen and more cold, until the spirit of the +White Knight wilted beneath the triple load of misery, +self-torture, and hopeless love. +</p> + +<p> +The time arrived when he could not bear to look +upon his own reflection, so he ceased to shave and +grew a long, silky beard and a moustache. +</p> + +<p> +He fed on what stores the refugees had left behind, +and slept on the rough bed which Arnold had used +when he was at the <i>château</i>, living the life of a hermit, +trying to forget ... trying to forget ... and failing! +</p> + +<p class="thought"> +* * * * * * +</p> + +<p> +The moon was rising, just skirting the trees, when +one night Geoffrey became conscious of voices. +</p> + +<p> +He was going to swear, but even as the words +trembled on his lips he started, for he recognized the +voices. Arnold and Elizabeth! What were they doing +near the old <i>château</i>? He was in one of the front rooms, +but like a wraith, and with as little noise, despite his +great size, he slipped out into the surrounding forest, +suspecting that they might enter the <i>château</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The voices came nearer; they were chattering idly +of current events in Budapest, but half-way across the +clearing Elizabeth raised her hand and restrained Arnold. +</p> + +<p> +"Please, monsieur," she said, and the sound of her +voice stole through the quiet air to where Geoffrey was +hidden. "Please, monsieur, I would like to stop here." +</p> + +<p> +Arnold obediently halted. Then suddenly Elizabeth +saw the old fountain, and, crossing to it, stood there, +watching it in the light of the moon. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Mercury," she said wistfully; "he seems +so solitary—alone in this big forest with no one near. +He must have been a merry little chap in the old days, +before he became overgrown with moss. I am going +to sit down. Won't you rest beside me, Monsieur +Arnold, so that I may talk to you?" +</p> + +<p> +She seated herself on the edge of the large empty +basin, and gazed around. From his place of concealment +Geoffrey watched, and the beauty of the scene +tortured him so that he closed his eyes. The silver rays +of the moon bathed the clearing and the <i>château</i> in a +pure white light which softened the decay, till one +could almost picture it as it must have appeared in +those far-off days when it had been the centre of life +and love, of activity and of idleness: the playground of +courtiers and ladies-in-waiting, with their colours and +their swords, with their lace petticoats and their fans. +</p> + +<p> +Never had Elizabeth looked so beautiful; it seemed +to Geoffrey that never before had a background so +admirably become her. If it were he who sat beside her, +if it were only he! He caught his breath in a little gasp. +</p> + +<p> +"How you must have wondered at me, Monsieur +Arnold!" Elizabeth was saying to him as he sat beside +her. "Did you think me mad, asking you to escort +me here one night?" +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed no," Arnold replied in his deep voice. +"On the contrary, mademoiselle, I myself was more +than pleased to come. This <i>château</i> has wonderful +memories for me—memories of one night, just like +this, not so long ago, when ... when Cecile..." He +stopped awkwardly. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, of course. I had forgotten," and it seemed +to Geoffrey as if there was a sigh in her voice. "You +are very happy, monsieur?" +</p> + +<p> +"Happy!" There was a wealth of gladness in that +one word which spoke for itself. "Mademoiselle, a short +while ago, in the middle of the Terror, I would have said +that this world was a Hell for some other and better world. +Now it seems to me that it must be Heaven itself." +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven!" she repeated in a whisper. "Heaven! +Well, it might be, if..." She turned to Arnold +suddenly. "What of the White Knight? Where is he?" +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven only knows, mademoiselle," Arnold groaned. +"Some time after the Rumanians took control he +disappeared without a word. Since then I have hunted +high and low for him without success." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you not—afraid?" There was a catch in her voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Afraid!" repeated Arnold, puzzled about her +meaning. Then he realized what she meant. "No, +mademoiselle, not of that. Only four people know +who the White Knight was—Apor, Francis, you, and +I. Besides, the Reds are being imprisoned in their +hundreds. Many will hang. The rest are too busy +hiding to worry about revenge." +</p> + +<p> +"Then why has he fled from us all?" she demanded. +</p> + +<p> +"Because—because of his scars," he answered slowly. +"Poor Geoffrey. You see, he was so handsome before—before +they came. And now! Somehow I cannot blame +him; I feel everything he suffers. They make him +horrible, mademoiselle, horrible—almost too hideous for +a man to look at unmoved, and still less a—a woman!" +</p> + +<p> +There was an unconscious undercurrent in his voice +as he spoke the last few words, and she turned to him. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you say that? Why should he be more +hideous to a woman?" +</p> + +<p> +Arnold was embarrassed. "I—I do not know, but +you see, mademoiselle, it always seems to men that +women should be brought into contact only with the—the +pretty things of this world. We try to keep the +ugly things to ourselves." +</p> + +<p> +"I know—and yet some women say men are selfish." She +paused, but only for a few seconds. "Monsieur, +supposing I brought you here for two reasons? One +for the sake of—of memories, and the other to talk to +you, alone and privately! +</p> + +<p> +"Listen! That awful, terrible day when I betrayed +the White Knight he called me 'Delilah.' Why, why +did he say that to me? Has he ever explained to you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, mademoiselle," Arnold answered sadly. "He +would not let me speak to him on the subject of his +capture." +</p> + +<p> +"Why not?" she demanded, but he was silent. +"Yet I believe I can answer myself. Was it because he +thought I had deliberately betrayed him?" +</p> + +<p> +"I—I do not know." +</p> + +<p> +"But you suspect...? Again you are silent, +monsieur, and your silence is your answer. Holy +Mary! Why cannot he realize the truth? I—I to +betray the White Knight! Sooner would I have cut off +my own tongue than willingly betray the man who saved +my father from death, and me from far worse. Oh, +Mother in Heaven, why can he not realize the truth?" +</p> + +<p> +Arnold did not speak. He felt as if he were being +permitted to look upon a woman's soul—that it would +have been sacrilege for him to speak. +</p> + +<p> +There was a sob in her voice, and she struggled with +her emotion, but presently conquering it she continued: +"Is that the only reason the White Knight has +disappeared, Monsieur Arnold? Is the mere fact of a +woman betraying him sufficient to drive him away for +ever, or is there another reason? Tell me. I command +you, monsieur, if you value a woman's happiness, +answer me the truth." +</p> + +<p> +"The truth ... mademoiselle, he worships the ground +you walk on, but ... but ... because of his scars..." +</p> + +<p> +"And what of my betrayal of him?" +</p> + +<p> +"He would ... he has, I am sure ... forgiven +you that." +</p> + +<p> +"Monsieur, for those words I could almost love you. +And I believe you. God be praised! But now, listen +carefully, monsieur, I have a message for you to give +the White Knight if ever you shall meet him. Tell him +that his love for me is no deeper than my love for him, +that—that—oh! what can I say save that I love him so?" And +suddenly she buried her face in her hands, her body +shaking with the sobs she could no longer repress. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment there came, from the forest, a +crackling of disturbed undergrowth, and a tall, +white-faced man staggered toward them, to sink on the turf +at her feet, clasping her hands, kissing them, again and +again, till his burning lips were bruised. +</p> + +<p> +With scarcely a sound Arnold disappeared, and they +were left alone in the clearing, alone with the moon. +</p> + +<p> +"My love, my love," he muttered again and again. +"And yet ... it is impossible. I am dreaming, just +dreaming. Soon I shall wake up, to find myself alone, +with the rats and the mice—alone!" +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, dear one!" she placed her hands to his +lips. "Hush!" +</p> + +<p> +For a while neither spoke, till in the end Geoffrey +broke the silence, and his voice was changed. +</p> + +<p> +"It must be impossible. How can you care for me? +My scars..." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think a woman loves a man only for his +face?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Not ordinarily, perhaps. But my face is ghastly—evil. +For the moment you have forgotten it. Your love +is blinding you. When your eyes are opened you will +see—you must see—my features in their true colours, +and you will shudder.... Oh, God! Believe me, +Elizabeth, I know it to be the truth." +</p> + +<p> +"It is not the truth!" she murmured passionately. +"Have I not thought till my brain has ached with +weariness? Have you forgotten that I am a daughter +of Hungary, descended from a long line of fierce +warriors? Each scar on your face is a scar of honour, +every wound only one more reason why I should +cherish you even more. I am not a dressed-up doll of +the West, who must be surrounded by pretty things +lest she droop. Unless you wish to wreck two people's +happiness you must—must believe me, dear!" +</p> + +<p> +"If only I might!" he murmured. +</p> + +<p> +"Then test me," she challenged defiantly; "test me!" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, I will, dear," he agreed. "I will light a +match, hold it to my face, and then look into your +eyes. I shall assuredly read the truth there." +</p> + +<p> +So his hand fumbled for a box of matches in his +pocket, but when he found it his fingers trembled. +What would the light reveal? Slowly he took out a +match, but even then he hesitated. If they could only +live for ever thus—in the dim light of the moon! +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey!" she commanded gently. +</p> + +<p> +"I am a coward. I am afraid." Then suddenly he +struck it, and held the spluttering flame close to his +face, so that its light might also reflect upon hers, and +thus he could read her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +So they sat, face to face, till the flame died away. In +her eyes he had seen, not shuddering, unwilling horror, +but tender love and, above all, overwhelming surprise. +</p> + +<p> +Surprise! +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" he asked roughly. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey! Geoffrey!" She could hardly speak +in her excitement, she was almost incoherent. "Oh, +God! Oh, Mother in Heaven!" +</p> + +<p> +So after all she had failed! His life was shattered. +He rose to his feet, and would have moved away, but she +clung to him desperately, forcing his arms around her. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, you don't understand! Almost you are +handsome. Your scars—your scars—I cannot see them, +only one, just across your eye. That could not hurt me." +</p> + +<p> +"You cannot see my ... my scars! Oh, God! +You are deceiving yourself, Elizabeth ... your love +is blinding you." +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, I swear it! Don't you understand, +Geoffrey? Your beard, your moustache——" +</p> + +<p> +His hand wandered to his chin, his fingers felt the +silky hairs, curling, concealing. Then suddenly he +realized that he too was receiving his reward. +</p> + +<p> +A wave of happiness flooded his body. Life once +again opened out before him. +</p> + +<p> +He drew her closer ... they were alone together +... just Elizabeth and he ... and the moon! +</p> + +<p><br><br><br><br></p> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78700 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/78700-h/images/img-cover.jpg b/78700-h/images/img-cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf321dd --- /dev/null +++ b/78700-h/images/img-cover.jpg |
