diff options
Diffstat (limited to '78700-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 78700-0.txt | 11153 |
1 files changed, 11153 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/78700-0.txt b/78700-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b9b90b --- /dev/null +++ b/78700-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11153 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78700 *** + + + + + + + _HARRAP'S SHILLING LIBRARY_ + + + + _THE TRAIL OF THE + WHITE KNIGHT_ + + + _By_ + + _BRUCE GRAEME_ + + _Author of + "Blackshirt," "La Belle Laurine," etc._ + + + + GEORGE G. HARRAP & CO. LTD. + LONDON BOMBAY SYDNEY + + + + + _First published October_ 1920 + by GEORGE G. HARRAP & Co., LTD + 39-41 Parker Street, Kingsway, London, W.C.2. + _Reprinted:_ 1926; 1928; 1930; 1931; 1932. + + + _Printed at Parkgate Printing Works, Dublin, by_ CAHILL & Co., LTD., + _London and Dublin_ + + + + + _HARRAP'S SHILLING LIBRARY_ + + 1. Pollyooly. Edgar Jepson. + 2. The Chinese Parrot. Earl Derr Biggers. + 3. Bluefeather. Laurence W. Meynell. + 4. The Gillespie Suicide Mystery. Leonard R. Gribble. + 5. Death's Eye. Laurence W. Meynell. + 6. The Cathra Mystery. Adam Gordon Macleod. + 7. The Marloe Mansions Murder. Adam Gordon Macleod. + 8. Behind that Curtain. Earl Derr Biggers. + 9. The Mayfair Mystery. Henry Holt. + 10. The Death Gong. Selwyn Jepson. + 11. Blackshirt. Bruce Graeme. + 12. The Return of Blackshirt. Bruce Graeme. + 13. The Trail of the White Knight. Bruce Graeme. + 14. The House of Fear. R. W. Service. + 15. Dead Men's Money. J. S. Fletcher. + 16. The Chestermarke Instinct. J. S. Fletcher. + 17. The Death of Laurence Vining. Alan Thomas. + 18. Inspector Frost's Jigsaw. H. Maynard Smith. + + + + +THE TRAIL OF THE WHITE KNIGHT + + +_PROLOGUE_ + +I + +"Say again you love me," she pleaded. + +"Silly one! Have I not already told you more times than I can +count?" he chided. + +She pouted slightly. "Yes, dear one; but a woman can never hear too +often the words which mean so much to her." + +"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." + +"Are you then a grandfather, big Mr Englishman?" she mocked. + +"No, but it is more than a month ago now since I celebrated my +twenty-fifth birthday." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Oh, Geoffrey, dear heart," she murmured softly, "must you indeed +depart to-morrow for your cold, cheerless England?" + +He turned toward her, and, acting on the impulse of the moment, +seized her dainty hands within his and pressed them passionately. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +From not far away there was a discreet cough from Zita's chaperon, +and Geoffrey looked, dismayed, at his watch. + +"Come, darling, this must be good night ... and _au revoir_." + +Quickly the ferry conveyed them from the island back to Buda again, +where he hired a _fiacre_. + +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 _adieux_. + +"In six months I shall return," were his last words, and the next +moment he was gone. + +Early the next morning Geoffrey left for Paris; before him England, +behind him Budapest, the city of smiles, gaiety, and happiness. + +"In six months I shall return." + +The words echoed in his ears, and the hum of the wheels of the +_wagon-lit_ repeated after him: "Six months, six months!" + +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. + +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. + + + +II + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Down with the _bourgeoisie_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _bourgeoisie_ and did not involve the death of notable +Bolsheviks. + +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. + +"_Bourgeois_," he hiccuped, and spat on the ground. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"Death to the _bourgeois_! Death!" + +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. + +"Good Gad!" he muttered to himself. "I thought this was peace." + +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? + +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. + +He had had no reason to believe that this--this ghastly business was +taking place in Budapest. "Death to the _bourgeoisie_!" What did it +mean? Revolution! No, not even that, but worse. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was accosted presently by a clerk, who slouched up to him. + +"What do you want?" the man growled. + +Geoffrey eyed him silently. "A room," he said presently, and the +clerk, under the Englishman's fixed glance, stirred uneasily. + +"Supposing we have not got one?" he said. + +"Supposing you look," replied Geoffrey quietly. + +The clerk gave ground. Entering his counter he banged a bell, and a +_pinczer_ approached. + +"Take this man up to room 61," he ordered. + +Without a word the waiter picked up Geoffrey's bag and led the way, +working the lift himself. + +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. + +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----" + +"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." + +Geoffrey shook his head. "I do not. I have only just arrived from +England." + +The waiter looked up eagerly. "You are English, sir?" + +Geoffrey nodded. + +"I was frightened. There are spies, detectives, and _agents +provocateurs_ everywhere." + +"Spies, detectives--I don't understand!" + +"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." + +"Good God!" Geoffrey was astounded, but recollections of Zita made +him urge the older man on with his story. "Tell me more," he +suggested. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"But what of the rich people, I mean the people who used to stay +here? What of them?" + +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." + +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! + +"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?" + +It was in the Erzebet-Korut that Zita lived with her father and +mother, the Count and Countess Rakoczy. + +The man scratched his head. "I have heard tell of--and yet--no, sir, +I am not sure." + +Geoffrey could have shaken him by the shoulders. "Go, now!" he +cried, and the old man passed out. + +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. + +Sick with apprehension, he heard the hours gradually strike one after +another, and never was dawn more welcome. He hastily dressed. + +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. + +With a trembling heart he approached the entrance, and was presently +admitted. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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... + +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. + +He pushed the door open and stepped inside. + +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. + +He had been playing chess at the time. Even now the chessboard and +the pieces still remained on the table: red _versus_ white, red +winning, the white king in check to them. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The piece was--a white knight. + + + + +_CHAPTER I_ + +The surging crowds, swaying, shuffling, grumbling, waited impatiently +in the grim Parliament Square, as yet lit but faintly by the dawning +from the east. + +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. + +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! + +Down through the ages have trickled histories of the French +Revolution, the people _versus_ the '_aristos_.' 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 _émigrés_, driven from their own country, the land +of their birth. + +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? + +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 _bourgeoisie_, 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. + +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. + +Murder, theft, blackmail! These were not crimes--merely the +prerogative of the proletariat. To be a _bourgeois_! 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. + +"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. + +Not a soul to aid the unhappy victims, not a man to stretch out a +helping hand--save one. + +* * * * * * + +"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 _bourgeoisie_, 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!" + +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. + +"They are a long time. Perhaps they are holding a trial." + +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. + +"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." + +"Me too," agreed Garami, "but Bela Kun says the Allies may interfere." + +The other man scowled. "Not they. The more we kill the better they +will be pleased. It saves them the trouble." + +Garami grinned. "You speak well, comrade. Only if it were the +Allies it might be you who would hang instead of the _bourgeois_ +dogs. There were those fifty Italian prisoners you said you +bayoneted----" + +"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." + +Garami grunted. "What have I to fear, eh! friend Wenzel? I am a +good Communist, me." + +"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." + +"The White Knight! What and who may he be, comrade?" + +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?" + +"Should I question you otherwise?" asked Garami testily. + +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. + +"Sisters, comrades," he announced, "my little friend here has never +heard of the White Knight!" + +There was no echoing smile of derision from his listeners; instead +Wenzel saw nothing but blank faces. + +He raised his eyebrows. "What!" he exclaimed, "have none of you yet +heard of the White Knight?" + +Several shook their heads, and a woman called out: "Tell us, comrade, +of him. Does he belong to the counter-revolution?" + +Wenzel grinned, and the effect was so repulsive that the woman shrank +back in disgust. + +"Tell you! Gladly, comrades. 'Tis not often my lot to be the +town-crier. I feel as important as a local commissary. + +"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 _bourgeoisie_. + +"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. + +"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. + +"On the night before Szamuelly arrived, what do you think happened, +friends? Arpad escaped." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The effect of these blemishes was to make the man so hideously ugly +that it was disgusting to cast eyes upon him. + +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. + +His clothes were greasy, frayed at the sleeves and at the bottom of +the trousers. His boots were laced with string. + +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. + +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. + +"Yes, comrades, he was the first prisoner to escape. Yet there were +others, more of these _bourgeois_, 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." + +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?" + +"Ay, ay," cried several, amidst a ripple of laughter. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Scarcely had the sound of the discharge died away when Wenzel laughed +loudly and slapped his friend Garami on the shoulder. + +"Three more traitors sent about their business, eh, comrade!" he +cried. + +Garami, rubbing his shoulder where Wenzel's hand had caught him, +laughed too. + + + + +_CHAPTER II_ + +It was eleven o'clock in Balassagyarmat, and the streets were +comparatively pitch dark. + +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? + +Under the present _régime_ 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. + +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 _bourgeois_ risking his life to visit friends. + +Only People's Commissaries walked about openly, or members of the +local Soviet. + +In some houses there was peace; here lived Communists who ran with +the hounds. In some there was a significant quiet--_bourgeois_ who +were still left in safety, but who might yet run with the hares. + +In one home, the residence of Count Kalman Bakocz, there was only +sorrow, a dull, hopeless, heart-gnawing despair. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Countess Bakocz weakly turned her head toward her son. "What news, +son, what news to-night?" + +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. + +"Nothing else, Francis?" Even despair did not dim her proud eyes so +much that she missed the trembling of his lips. + +"Nothing else." + +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." + +Unconsciously Francis turned a questioning gaze upon Cecile, who +nodded slightly. + +"They say," he commenced chokingly, "that Father is--is to be tried +on--Mon--Monday." + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly Francis raised his head. He heard the hoot of an owl. + +"'Tis Kirchhoff!" he cried, and running lightly across the room he +disappeared downstairs. + +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. + +"He is a long time," she said. Cecile knew her mother's thoughts had +been following the trend of her own. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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? + +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? + +The Countess inclined her head coldly as the Englishman bowed. + +"You must forgive my intrusion, Countess, but there is a matter of +great importance which I must discuss with you." + +"I am at your service, monsieur." Try as she might she could not +keep the chilling hauteur from her voice. + +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. + +Arnold Terhune glanced around him. + +"We are alone?" + +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. + +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." + +"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 +_bourgeoisie_ 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. + +Stories of his wonderful rescues had penetrated into every house and +home which sheltered one of the hated _bourgeoisie_, 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. + +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?" + +"Too well, Countess. Moreover, he plans to rescue him--has sworn to +do so." + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +Terhune smiled, then slowly shook his head. "The White Knight alone +knows his plans, Countess. He alone plots his _coups_." + +"But you, monsieur, you know this White Knight?" + +Terhune's face broke into a smile again, but this time there was +something of hero-worship, of reverence, in it. + +"Yes, Countess, he is my friend, and leader." + +"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. + +"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." + +"You love Hungary, monsieur, yet you are an Englishman, an enemy!" +There was a gentle reproof in her tones as the Countess spoke. + +"We are not our masters in war-time, Countess. I fought for my +country, not for myself." + +"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----!" + +"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." + +"The White Knight, is he English too?" + +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." + +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. + +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." + +"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. + +"But now, Countess, for the reason of my visit here. There is +information I require, knowledge I must acquire. Listen...." + +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. + + + + +_CHAPTER III_ + +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 _bourgeoisie_. + +"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." + +Stopping short in his speech, he picked it up and hastily read its +message: + + +To BELA KUN, + +Do not hope to execute the Count Bakocz. I have sworn to rescue him, +and I never fail. + +THE WHITE KNIGHT + + +Bela Kun swore. "Listen, comrades," and he read the brief note out +to the members of the Council. + +"My God! how did you get that?" shouted Szamuelly. + +Bela Kun shook his head. "I don't know. It wasn't with my papers +when I left home." He looked round with suspicion. + +"What does it mean?" asked one. + +Bela Kun sneered. "What does it mean? It means that this White +Knight is going to try to rescue Count Bakocz." + +"Well, what does he want to warn you for?" + +"I know why," interrupted Szamuelly. "Because this man, this +_bourgeois_, having been successful once or twice in his ventures, +now imagines he is omnipotent." + +"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. + +Bela Kun hesitated. "Well--er--he has certainly been fortunate up to +the moment." + +"I see," said Garami. "And may I ask you, comrade, by what means the +dog has done this?" + +"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. + +Szamuelly laughed unpleasantly. "Yes, comrade. I found the jailer +with the money in his pocket. I hung the man, and appropriated the +crowns." + +"As strong as an ape, I believe you said. Why do you say this?" +Again Garami put a question. + +Bela Kun frowned. "You are in a questioning mood to-day, Garami." + +"For a reason, comrade, which you will learn if you will answer my +question first." + +"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." + +Garami grinned unpleasantly. "Supposing I can put you in touch with +a good comrade who isn't afraid of this _bourgeois_, this White +Knight, as he calls himself. Would he be of use to you, comrade?" + +Bela Kun thought for a moment. "Would he act as jailer to Count +Bakocz, think you?" + +Garami laughed. "He would act as jailer to the Devil himself if it +so be there was good money to be earned." + +"Who is this man?" + +"Istvan Wenzel." + +"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." + +"You are thinking of the right man," Garami agreed. "Wenzel can pick +up a man in each hand." + +"Can you get in touch with him, Garami?" asked the Dictator. + +"He lives but three flats below me." + +"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." + +The next morning Wenzel accompanied Garami to Bela Kun. + +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 _bourgeoisie_. + +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. + +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 _bourgeoisie_ and could starve. There were no food tickets for +such as they. + +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. + +Such thoughts as these did not worry the boisterous Wenzel or the sly +Garami, as they strode along the streets. + +"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?" + +"I am with you, comrade." + +"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." + +"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?" + +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." + +In due course they were shown in to Bela Kun, who eyed the big Wenzel +up and down, and then smiled cunningly. + +"You know why I wished to see you?" he questioned. + +"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 _bourgeois_ between my two +hands and I'll wring their necks. Curse them!" + +"Then you will take the job on?" + +"Yes--at a price, comrade." + +"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." + +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." + +"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!" + +* * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +In the prisons of Hungary were _bourgeois_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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 _bourgeois_ hang the better +pleased shall I be, that's what I say." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +His life became harassed, and he in his turn tightened the +thumb-screws on the unfortunate _bourgeoisie_. 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. + +"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. + +When Wenzel went on duty Garami was there to meet him. + +"Ho, Wenzel!" he said, "to-night's the last opportunity to rescue +Count Bakocz. You must keep your eye open--that is, if this +_bourgeois_ really intends to attempt a rescue." + +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." + +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?" + +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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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 +_bourgeois_ through with bayonets. If there is anything wrong, +shout." + +"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. + +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. + +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 _protégé_. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The soldier served them all. "Let us--let--let us drink a toast," he +called out, "l-let us drink to the Revolution." + +"Ay, ay," answered the men, and they drank deeply. + +"Must take some to the others," muttered the proposer, and he +staggered away. + +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. + +"Drunken swine," he muttered. It was Arnold Terhune. + +The first part of his task completed, there was now the hardest part +to perform. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The sight of Wenzel, his face and clothes covered in blood, rushing +into their midst, was their first intimation that anything was wrong. + +"Dogs! Beasts!" furiously shouted Wenzel. "The prisoner has +escaped!" + +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. + +Wenzel was outside, staring up and down the street. + +"Which way?" the guards cried, but Wenzel shook his head helplessly. + +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. + +Here and there against an occasional light they saw twin shadows +fleeing from them, one stumbling and falling, the other pulling. + +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. + +Wenzel struck a match. The fallen one, his face smothered in the mud +of the road, was the Count. + +"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." + +The guards dragged the helpless man along the streets, till inside +the prison they let him fall, and there he lay, cold and stiff. + +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. + +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. + +The White Knight had won again. + + + + +_CHAPTER IV_ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +They turned their knit and scowling brows toward Szamuelly, who +smiled banefully. + +"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?" + +"Ho," said Pogany, "but do hens only inhabit the roost? There are +also cocks which crow." + +"Yes, and from one grain of wheat may spring many other grains, +remember, Comrade Szamuelly," cried another. + +"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 _bourgeoisie_! Hang +the magnates! Let them join the traitor Tisza. What say you, +comrades?" + +From several directions came affirmative cries. "Well said, +Szamuelly! three days' sack." "Well said! 'Tis what I say too." + +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. + +"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 _bourgeoisie_ carry its own +message." He laughed. "There will be many who will be pleased to +join our ranks afterwards." + +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. + +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. + +"Not yet, Comrade Szamuelly. The time is not yet. You must wait. +Perhaps one day in the future----" + +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. + +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----" + +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." + +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 _bourgeoisie_? Can +you hang him in Parliament Square?" + +There was a brief silence, and Szamuelly became, once again, the +centre of interest. + +"If the rope does not break, comrades," he boasted. + +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." + +"In the meantime----?" + +"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?" + +"Ay, ay." The confirmation was unanimous. + +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. + +"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. + +"Comrade Wenzel has disappeared." + +Kunfi laughed gutturally. "He took your threat to heart, comrade." + +Bela Kun ignored his fellow-councillor and frowned at the officer. + +"Friend, I gave you orders to arrest Comrade Wenzel. How mean you he +has disappeared?" + +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. + +"Did you search his room?" + +"Yes, and found----" + +"What?" Impatiently Bela Kim leaned forward. + +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. + +* * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.... + +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. + +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. + +Even Imre, conquering his fading sight only with the aid of +_pince-nez_, could not fail to notice an air of elation in +Elizabeth's manner as she joyfully partook of her meal. + +"Why, daughter, what witchery are you up to this morning? It is a +long time since I have seen you so happy." + +Elizabeth glanced at him lovingly and smiled. "Father dear, you have +not forgotten?" + +"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?" + +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?" + +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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Elizabeth frowned. "Again there are no papers, Father. I do not +understand their absence and I am nervous." + +"Nervous! God bless my soul! What nonsense are you talking? Why +should you be nervous?" + +She sighed. "I do not know. It may be merely a vague impression, +yet since King Charles was dethroned----" + +"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." + +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. + +"Come, Father, to work." + +"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. + +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. + +"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?" + +Elizabeth did not reply, and Imre became conscious that her grip upon +his arm was tightening. + +"What is the matter, Elizabeth?" he asked, surprised. + +"Father, there is a man riding towards us as if he were pursued by a +demon." + +"Pshaw! Do not all our horsemen ride thus? Perhaps he brings us the +newspapers." + +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. + +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. + +A brief interval, hurrying footsteps, and then Peczkai, from the +village, was shown in. + +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. + +"Excellency!" He could say no more, and Imre motioned him to be +quiet. His hoarse breathing became easier. + +"Excellency, the Communists are on their way here!" + +"Communists!" Imre gazed at the peasant in bewilderment. "What mean +you? I do not understand." + +"The Communists, Excellency, are coming here, by order of the Soviet." + +"Soviet!" The old man choked and a hastily aroused temper began to +display itself. Seeing him thus Elizabeth spoke to the man. + +"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." + +"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 _bourgeoisie_ 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!" + +They looked at the man incredulously, hesitating to believe a word he +said. Yet Elizabeth was the first to realize the truth. + +"Oh, Mother in Heaven!" she whispered to herself, yet the sound +pierced the stillness of the room with a sharp echo. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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! + +"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. + +"Excellency, a short rest only. Then you must go. See, I will take +you, guide you to a safe place." + +"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." + +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. + +"Excellency..." He spread out an arm appealingly. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"They come, Father." + +She looked round. He sat as if he had not heard. + +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 _habitué_ of prison. + +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. + +"Oh, Mother in Heaven!" she breathed. + +The awakening at last! "Father, the gates! we must close them! Then +we can defy them, snap our fingers at them." + +Before he had time to reply she hurried from the room and called the +servants as she ran. + +In the courtyard Joseph and Eugene the coachmen were watching the +Communists, whispering to each other in an undertone. Then Elizabeth +was before them. + +"Joseph, Eugene, the Bolsheviks are coming to occupy the castle. +Shut to the gates." + +Neither man moved, just glanced uneasily at one another. + +"Eugene, do you hear?" The other servants were joining them, all but +the women. + +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. + +"Then obey. Shut to the gates and keep that rabble at a distance." + +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. + +"Friends!" Her voice rang with contempt. "Do you call those men +your friends? Do you, Eugene, and you, George, or you, Bela?" + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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 _bourgeoisie_. Besides..." he +whispered in the other's ear, and afterward they both grinned evilly. + +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. + +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. + +"Well, my pretty miss, what do you want?" Grocz laughed and spat on +the ground. + +Elizabeth looked at him, a fierce anger blazing from her eyes. +"Dog!" she cried. "Get back to your kennel." + +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. + +"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?" + +Perhaps her words might have had effect, but unconsciously she +touched upon the wrong topic. + +"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!" + +The words were greeted by a chorus of affirmative growls. The tide +had turned and none knew it better than Comrade Grocz. + +"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?" + +There was a restless movement. "No, no, move on!" + +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. + +"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. + +Unseen, unnoticed, Lenin's shadow fell across the _tableau_; 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. + +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. + +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. + +"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----" + +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. + +* * * * * * + +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. + +"This is one of your own?" she said. + +"Yes, mistress." + +"But why did you not bring me one of mine?" + +Looking everywhere but at her mistress the maid stammered an answer: +"I--I was afraid of the--the men, mistress." + +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. + +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. + +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! + +Mechanically they moved on. Everywhere it was the same. Destruction +abounded. Tiny _objets d'art_ thrown into the grate, exquisite +tapestry pulled off the walls to clean the boots of the proletariat. + +In due course Comrade Grocz saw them. + +"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. + +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? + +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. + +"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. + +Imre sank into a chair, his head bowed. Elizabeth tiptoed from the +room and quietly shut the door. + +Not far away was a bathroom. She would have washed, but she found +the bolt wrenched off. Under the Bolshevik _régime_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +So the _tableau_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +Without a sound Comrade Grocz dropped to the ground. + +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. + +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. + + + + +_CHAPTER V_ + +Budapest, and Comrade Grocz pleading to Bela Kun for satisfaction. + +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 +_bourgeoisie_ must be exterminated." + +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." + +"Ha! A daughter. Is she young?" + +"Deliciously so." + +"And pretty?" + +"None more so." + +Bela Kun grinned all over his misshapen face. "Comrade Grocz, if I +were you----" + +Grocz nodded his head. "And afterwards?" + +Bela Kun frowned. "Let her join her pig of a father in Hell." + +Grocz was confident. "Leave that to me, comrade." + +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. + +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.... + +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 _The People's Voice_. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +_Internationale_ on a violin, and the strains echoed along the +corridor. + +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. + +"Geoffrey, old man, we are nearly there." + +"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. + +Arnold wanted to talk. "You have made your plans?" he asked. + +Wenzel nodded. "As far as possible." + +"And those?" + +"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." + +There was a silence, broken eventually by Arnold. + +"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." + +"Not as much as it did you. You scarcely bruised the skin." + +"Even so, was there anyone else near by, save the Count, that we had +to act so realistically?" + +"No." + +"Then--why?" he asked desperately. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +Arnold flushed. He was not used to praise of this kind from his +leader, and, embarrassed, he changed the subject. + +"Once inside the castle, Geoffrey--are you not afraid of being +trapped?" + +"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." + +"What of a rifle bullet? Neither brains nor brawn, Geoffrey, can +successfully withstand the flight of a cartridge." + +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." + +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. + +"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? + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +The train rumbled on, and Comrade Grocz impatiently waited for the +journey to finish. + +* * * * * * + +By the time Grocz reached the castle it was practically pitch dark. +Eugene, the ex-coachman, met him at the gate. + +"Back again, comrade?" + +"Yes, back again, my friend, with good news." + +Eugene grunted. "He is to die?" + +"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?" + +"Nothing more. Your scheme is excellent, yet I would give you +advice, comrade." He paused. + +"Well, say on," urged Grocz impatiently. + +"Firstly I would, were I you, dispatch the old man to-night." + +Grocz grinned in the darkness. "Worry not, comrade. I have already +decided to do that--and other things. Only why do you say this?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Grocz thought for a moment or two, and then smacked his knee. "Good +advice, my friend! We will see that this is done." + +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. + +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. + +To Imre Kiss came Grocz, gloatingly. "Well, old man, you can say +your prayers. At midnight sharp, to-night, you die." + +"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." + +"You--you are not going to kill her? For God's sake let her remain +safe and sound! Kill me, but leave her." + +"Don't you worry, we will do that all right," replied Grocz brutally. + +"You swear you will look after her?" + +"Yes, I will look after her." + +"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. + +The horror was too much for his heart. With a tiny sigh he slipped +back, unconscious, to the straw-strewn floor. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Why do you not speak to me, Lenke?" + +The woman glanced fearfully at her. "Mistress, I have been forbidden +to speak to you or to answer any questions." + +Elizabeth gazed with scorn at the trembling servant. "Are you afraid +of the--the--animals?" + +Lenke whimpered slightly. "Mistress, they--they threaten to--to kill +me unless I obey their commands." + +Elizabeth laughed. "And you believe they would dare to do so?" + +"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." + +"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. + +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... + +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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The door opened, a Red guard stood there. + +"My father, where is he? Quick, for the love of mercy tell me!" she +pleaded. + +The Red guard scowled at her. "Is that all you want?" + +"Yes, yes. Tell me, please, I cannot bear the anxiety." + +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. + +The man laughed brutally and slammed the door. + +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. + +"I have brought you a light." + +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?" + +Grocz frowned. "Swing the old man to perdition." + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + + + + +_CHAPTER VI_ + +"Ho, there!" + +Two men stood outside the castle gates, cursing beneath their breath. + +On the other side a Communist laughed noisily. + +"Hullo, comrades! What want you at this time of night?" + +"We come with a message to Comrade Grocz from Bela Kun." + +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. + +"Open! Our message is important." Wenzel's voice hardened. "Unless +Bela Kun's orders are obeyed your necks may stretch." + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +"No, I think not," Terhune replied slowly. + +"Then why the order not to let in even Bela Kun himself?" + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"The Danube!" he breathed softly. + +"Good Lord!" Arnold was horrified. "Another few steps and----" + +"Perhaps." + +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. + +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. + +"Well?" + +Arnold detected a grim note of interrogation in Wenzel's voice. +"There seems no hope of admittance," he answered. + +"There has got to be. Do you think I am content to let the old man +hang, and his daughter be violated?" + +"What can you do? If Grocz meant all he said at the station buffet, +Imre Kiss will hang at twelve." + +"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. + +"The swine!" In the intensity of his emotion Arnold hissed the word +between set teeth. "And yet----?" + +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." + +"Geoffrey--you can't! They must be twenty feet high or more and +probably smooth as glass." + +"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... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Marseillaise_! 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +The _Marseillaise_ finished, the _Internationale_ rang out. There +was a burst of enthusiasm, and the noise of the chorus boisterously +rolled round the hall with a deafening din. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He moved on, and the passage turned sharply to the left. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Quick, you dog," he said in a low voice, "tell me, where is Imre +Kiss?" + +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. + +"Down in the cells," he croaked. + +"You know the way?" + +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. + +"Yes, yes," he muttered hoarsely. "I have just come from there." + +"For what reason?" + +"Comrade Grocz sent me with this message: 'Tell the old man to say +his prayers; it is nearly time for him to die.'" + +In his fury Wenzel unconsciously increased the pressure of his arm, +and the Communist whimpered in agony. + +"Mercy, mercy," he gasped, "you are killing me!" + +Wenzel grunted, but eased up. The man might yet prove to be of use, +otherwise... + +"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----" + +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. + +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. + +The Communist pointed to the dark depths: "Imre Kiss is in the second +cell on the left." + +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. + +There was a murmuring cry from one of the cells. + +"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." + +Conscious, suddenly, of intruders, Imre ceased his invocation. He +saw the light of the candle, the two Communists--his call had come. + +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." + +His voice broke; he could say no more, and, believing his appeal +futile, he collapsed to the floor with a sob. + +The door of the cell was locked. Wenzel turned to the guide with a +growl. "The key." + +"Comrade Grocz has it." + +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... + +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. + +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.... + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Imre felt sick. "Why did you do that?" he murmured. + +"It was the only way," Wenzel replied harshly. "Otherwise he might +have raised an alarm." + +"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?" + +"You and your daughter, Elizabeth." + +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. + +"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." + +"The roof? ... But ... but ... why?" + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +"He is fuller with wine than a barrel." + +"Oh, ho! Have they found some more?" + +"It flows like the Danube in the hall. I am just going down to have +my fill." + +The two Communists exchanged glances. "It will be a big one," said +one, "we had better get there first." + +When Wenzel set Imre upon his feet again, the old man turned to him. +"That was clever," he said simply. + +At last they reached the roof, and crossed to where the gallows stood +awaiting its victim. Imre shuddered. + +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. + +"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?" + +"No; there is an exterior staircase--a modern innovation. My own, as +a matter of fact." + +"Huh! It may save your life." Wenzel laughed shortly. "You +scarcely foresaw this when you had it built?" + +"God forbid!" + +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. + +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." + +"But--but my daughter?" + +There was a rasp in Wenzel's voice when he answered: "You must obey +me." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +There was no one about. Still more fortunate proved the fact that +the key was in the door. He unlocked it and entered. + +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. + +"Fear not, mademoiselle." + +Three simple words, but to Elizabeth they represented a suggestion of +unexpected comradeship. The deep, resonant tone of his voice echoed +round the room. + +"Fear not!" A cultured voice at last, when all she had heard that +day had been the slurring accents of the uncouth, the uneducated. + +"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. + +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. + +"Mademoiselle, I have come to rescue you." If she had needed proof +his words supplied it. + +"Oh, thank God!" she murmured. "For if--if that man had come to me I +would have died.... But--my father----" + +"Is already safe and sound." + +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?" + +"I have." Impatiently he replied, but if his manner was brusque she +did not notice it. + +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----" + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +He thought it was fear: "Keep quiet; there is still time to escape." + +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---- + +The noise swelled louder, as a drunken fury seized the crowd. +"Where's the girl? Hang her! ... Death to the _bourgeoise_! Where's +her room?" + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"You are not afraid?" he asked quickly. + +"If my father is safe--no," she replied quietly. + +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. + +"Tell me quickly, is there no other way out, no other door?" + +"But one door and one window." + +"The window----" + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +He might have attempted to prevent a raincloud bursting. "Get away, +Grocz. She must die." + +"But she was given to me!" he shrieked. + +"Yah! Yah!" Two or three laughed boisterously, and one cried out: +"You forget, Comrade Grocz, that the Dictatorship has abolished all +private ownership." + +"Ay! Kill her! Hang the girl!" + +"Stop! Stop!" Grocz grew desperate. "Listen. Do not kill her ... +let us share her, as all good Communists should." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"The window," he prompted. + +"Had the worst come, I should have--have thrown myself out." + +"You mean--suicide?" + +"Yes," she breathed softly. "May Heaven forgive me for the thought." + +"What is below?--the courtyard?" + +"No, the Danube, fifty feet down." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Yet you spoke of suicide!" + +"The current, monsieur, runs swiftly at this part. No one could hope +to swim against it." + +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. + +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.... + +"Mademoiselle, are you prepared to jump?" + +"Gladly. Death can be no worse than--than---- Oh, Mother in Heaven, +what has happened to our unhappy country? Monsieur, I am ready." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You are still not afraid?" he asked. + +"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... + +Even as the door gave way he picked her up in his arms. Bracing his +legs he jumped.... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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... + +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. + +* * * * * * + +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. + +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.... + +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: + + MADEMOISELLE, + You are safe with this woman. + _Adieu._ + + +"_Adieu!_" Good-bye! She gazed away. + +He had almost written _Au revoir_, 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... + + + + +_CHAPTER VII_ + +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. + +For a while they walked together discussing the work of the day. + +"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." + +"How can we be the nobles? I thought we were all equal now?" Apor +dryly put the question to the commissary. + +"Stuff and nonsense! You provoke me to anger, comrade; you are for +ever casting shadows upon the golden vista of Communist dreams." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"And yet the members of the Soviet ride about in motor-cars, and +their humble 'equals' walk to work!" + +Hamburger's cheeks flushed. "You argue absurdly, Apor. The State +merely lends the motor-cars to the Soviet for their extra +responsibility." + +"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?" + +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." + +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." + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +"You are late to-night." + +"Yes. Their rhetoric becomes wilder as their courage strengthens." + +"What do you mean?" + +"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?" + +"Rescuing Imre Kiss and his daughter Elizabeth. Have you heard?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Bad, Wenzel; bad. For once you have slipped. Your identity is +known. You are no longer safe in Budapest." + +"Damn!" Aghast at the information, Wenzel unconsciously spoke in +English, and Apor started. + +"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." + +"Why?" + +"Because already the rumour has gone round that the White Knight is +English." + +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?" + +"Simply! When Count Bakocz escaped they sent for you. You were not +there and they searched your rooms and found--a white knight." + +Wenzel swore again, this time beneath his breath. To have left such +an easy clue behind him! + +"What a fool I was, what a fool! Now must I find fresh lodgings." + +"No, Wenzel, you must go altogether. They are hunting for you right +and left." + +"Enough, Apor!" There was a steely warning in his voice, but Apor +heeded it not. + +"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?" + +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." + +"Conditions are more terrible than ever, as I have already said; but, +worse still, petty counter-revolutions are springing up all over the +place." + +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..." + +"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." + +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. + +"Apor, you are not joining any counter-revolutionary movement?" + +Beneath his steady scrutiny Apor's eyes dropped, and Wenzel knew that +he had guessed the truth. + +"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." + +"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." + +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?" + +"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----" + +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. + +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. + +"Quick, Apor, are you unhurt?" + +"Only just." + +"Then run like Hades. It is another poor victim. Whatever happens +we must not be found together." + +Without another word they parted, and rapidly merged into the +darkness. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +* * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Not until he was immediately opposite the once handsome station did +he discover that all entrance to the platform was forbidden. + +"What's the matter, comrade?" he asked of a Red guard who lounged +near. + +"The railwaymen have struck for more money," replied the other. + +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?" + +The guard grinned. "She will have to wait even longer than a day +unless you walk." + +"Bah! I don't believe you. Wait until the Council takes the +situation in hand. The strike will fizzle out like damp gunpowder." + +"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." + +"Ay! Well, I hope he succeeds, that's what I say. I hope he does." + +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. + +So much for good omens! All his plans to visit the _château_ that +day, and return at night, completely shattered. + +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. + +For perhaps twenty minutes he traversed the streets; not until then +did it occur to him that he might walk to the _château_. 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _ci-devant_ magnates, reared in the lap of luxury, +could eke out an existence inside the weather-scarred walls of the +_château_, 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. + +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. + +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 _bourgeois_, 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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He had something to eat at a little roadside tavern, though it was +scanty and poorly cooked, consisting of _Gulyas_, 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. + +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 +_château_. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He threaded his way through the trees until they thinned out; then +through them he could see the _château_. 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _château_, was engraven into his memory. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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.... + +"Geoffrey! You here! I did not expect you. You have brought some +one else?" + +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." + +"Happily, or rather as happily as is possible. The _château_ 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." + +"Good! Any other news?" + +"Francis Bakocz has been plaguing my life to ask you to let him help +us." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Arnold returned to the _château_, 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? + +He was met at the door by Cecile. + +"You have seen him?" The last word she uttered in a soft whisper, +breathing into it a subtle reverence. + +Arnold nodded. "Yes," he replied abstractedly. + +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." + +"Perhaps he does!" + +She turned swiftly round, so that she was directly facing him. "You +mean--he is coming--here, and soon?" + +"To-night!" + +"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. + +"I--I shall see him then?" + +Arnold hesitated. He realized that he was going to have difficulty +in explaining the situation. + +"Yes and no," he muttered slowly. "You may be able to speak to him, +but not actually see him." + +Two faint, twin lines betrayed themselves upon her forehead. "Speak +to him but not see him! I do not understand!" + +"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." + +She shook her head doubtfully. "Yet still I do not comprehend." + +Arnold hesitated. "It is that no one shall recognize him." + +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?" + +"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. + +"Then what other reason has he for taking such precautions?" + +"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. + +"So he is not the only one who does not trust me," she replied +coldly. "I am sorry, monsieur." + +"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. + +"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. + + + + +_CHAPTER VIII_ + +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. + +Wenzel proceeded toward the _château_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Somehow Wenzel was grotesquely reminded of the _Swiss Family +Robinson_, of _Crusoe_, and other similar tales of boyhood days. As +he looked in upon the _château_ 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.... + +Arnold was waiting for him by the door. + +"Everyone is madly anxious to speak to you," he said. + +"I can see only a few," Wenzel answered curtly. + +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?" + +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?" + +"I think--Francis Bakocz! Now take me to the room." + +To the White Knight came Francis. + +"Monsieur," he said to Wenzel, "I want to become one of your +lieutenants." + +"Lieutenants! Who told you I have assistants?" + +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. + +"No one," he faltered; "but there is yourself, and Monsieur Terhune, +and I believed there might be others." + +"Why should you believe so?" + +"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?" + +Wenzel laughed grimly. "I questioned you to discover whether they +were your ideas or some you might have heard." + +"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. + +"And you think I am a supernatural being?" + +"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." + +There was a brief silence, broken eventually by Wenzel: "You think +so?" + +"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." + +Again a silence, so long that Francis could not maintain his +composure. "Monsieur!" he said. + +"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." + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +"Arnold! For God's sake leave me alone, man, for another twenty +minutes." + +"Monsieur, it is not Arnold." + +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. + +"Mademoiselle! I did not expect you," + +'You know who it is then, monsieur?" + +"You are Elizabeth Kiss." + +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!" + +"It is not your face I recognize, mademoiselle, but your voice." + +"But you heard it for so short a time that--that awful night." + +"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." + +"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." + +"You did wrong! Why did you?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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? + +"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?" + +He was deeply stirred by the story she told him. + +"I am glad you have told me," he said simply. + +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. + +This meeting only served to emphasize the attraction for her which, +almost against his will, had pulled him to the _château_, away from +Budapest. He wished he could see her, watch her ever-changing +expressions, behold her again as he had beheld her outside the +_château_, 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. + +"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. + +Elizabeth was conscious of the change, for she hesitated. "I do not +mind standing, monsieur." + +"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. + +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. + +His heart cried out in protest, so that when he next spoke there was +an unshed tear in his voice. + +"Won't you tell me of yourself, mademoiselle? Elizabeth Kiss! It is +a pretty name." + +"It is an old Hungarian name." + +"It is prettier still in my language. You know it?" he questioned. + +She answered him in English. "A little. I learned it many years ago +when I was still at school." + +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. + +"You speak it splendidly, mademoiselle. You must continue to talk to +me in English. You were telling me of yourself." + +"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. + +"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." + +"You must suffer all the more then, now that your eyes are open?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Yes, yes," he impatiently prompted her. + +"Yesterday Monsieur Terhune arrived at the _château_ with a fresh +visitor from Budapest----" + +"Dregely?" + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +Her voice hardened: "Yes. Dregely was Coloman's friend, and by some +means found out. He wanted revenge, but the Communist left Budapest." + +"Yes, yes; but who was the murderer?" + +"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 _bourgeoisie_. 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." + +"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!" + +"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!" + +"Perhaps you can," he breathed softly. + +"Tell me quickly," she said eagerly. + +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! + +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. + +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." + +"Monsieur!" Reproach battled with anger in her voice. + +"I am sorry, but prattling tongues, even in this _château_, 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." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +He was saved a final decision. The door opened and Terhune's voice +rang out: + +"Geoffrey, I am sorry to interrupt, but Apor is here with grave news." + +Instantly his brain cleared. "Mademoiselle, you will excuse me!" + +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. + +Terhune guided her to the door, and when he came back Apor was with +him. + +"Shall I light up now? The window is well covered," asked Terhune. + +"Yes, yes. I am tired of the gloom." + +When the candle was alight Apor turned to Wenzel. + +"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." + +"Walked here," Wenzel grunted. + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +Wenzel nodded his head. "You are right, Apor. How many miles is it +to Bira from here?" + +"Seventy." + +"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." + +"But how?" It was Apor who put the question. + +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: + +"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. + +Apor nodded. "Yes!" he said, but his expression was puzzled. + +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." + +"Well?" Still Apor did not understand. + +"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." + +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!" + +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." + +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. + +"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." + + + + +_CHAPTER IX_ + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +Soon they reached the summit. "The valley is before us," Apor +announced. + +"How the Devil can you tell? Gad! it looks to me as black as the +nether regions. You must have cat's eyes." + +Apor laughed. "A result of upbringing. I cannot really see, so that +it is probably instinct which enables me to move about so easily." + +He led the way, Wenzel following close on his heels, and for some +minutes they proceeded downward into the valley. Then Apor stopped. + +"Can you hear anything?" he asked, in a puzzled voice. + +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. + +"What kind of a noise do you mean?" + +Apor hesitated. "I scarcely know. More like a distant hum." + +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. + +He caught Apor's arm in a pinching grasp. "Look!" + +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. + +"What the Devil!..." exclaimed Apor. + +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. + +It was Wenzel who first grasped the truth. "Damn! Oh, damn!" he +exclaimed. "We are too late! It is the Death Train!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Then no more, just the tail-light, mockingly winking its derision at +Wenzel, ominously reminiscent of blood--blood.... + +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. + +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. + +"It has gone?" There was a query in Apor's dull voice. + +"Not yet." + +"Not yet! But surely...!" Apor scrambled to his feet. Then he +turned to Wenzel. "My God! Don't you see, Wenzel? It has stopped!" + +"Stopped!" So that was why he could still see the wicked, red glare? +"What does that mean, Apor? Is there a station there?" + +"Not for another five miles." + +They stood, side by side, watching, and waiting for the train to +resume its journey, but presently they noticed the clouds of smoke +diminishing. + +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?" + +"It is hard to say. Perhaps a mile, perhaps more." + +"Then guide me there. I am going to investigate." + +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. + +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." + +The other man turned remonstratingly. "But, Wenzel----" + +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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He had travelled in _de luxe_ 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. + +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 +_châteaux_ of the ruling Magyars. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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! + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Three-quarters of an hour we have been here. Why don't we get on +instead of hanging about?" said one. + +"Obviously Szamuelly wants to get to Bira just after daybreak so that +he can catch the White Revolution in the act." + +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." + +"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. + +"Well, and could we not have stopped in Buda, and have left there in +time to arrive in Bira soon after daybreak?" + +"Perhaps Szamuelly thought we should not be too willing to get up." + +"Huh!" The first man grunted. "Maybe he was right. Once I tumble +into bed I prefer to stick there." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Well, comrades, ready for your work, eh?" + +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." + +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?" + +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. + +Presently the Terror Boys returned, group by group. + +"Where are the prisoners?" Szamuelly asked, and his voice grew +harsher as he heard the same answer from all quarters: + +"There has been a mistake, comrade. Bira is Red. There is no +counter-revolutionary movement here. The Red flag flies everywhere." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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!" + +The trembling wretch sank on his knees, the tears ran down his +cheeks. Szamuelly laughed. + +"Is his face red or white, comrades?" + +There was a roar of laughter from his followers, and the verdict was +unanimous: "White, Comrade Szamuelly, white!" + +"Then he hangs. Throw a rope over that tree yonder." + +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. + +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.... + +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. + +"Come along, comrades. Do you think Bira will go White again?" + +A hoarse growl of laughter arose. "Not if they are wise." + +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. + +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. + +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! + +Szamuelly must die! Of the chaotic thoughts which obsessed Wenzel +that was the one dominant factor. Szamuelly must die! + +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! + + + + +_CHAPTER X_ + +Thirty-three miles away from Budapest is Aszod. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The cheering having died down, he raised his hand, and obtained +immediate silence. Striking a flamboyant attitude, he commenced his +speech. + +"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. + +"'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: + +"'Last night the Hungarian Proletariat seized all powers, established +the Dictatorship of the Proletariat, and greets you as leader of the +International Proletariat. + +"'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.'" + +There was an outburst of cheering, to which Gonnard smiled and +smirked his acknowledgment. Presently, when there was silence once +again, he continued: + +"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: + +"'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.'" + +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. + +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. + +"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 +_bourgeoisie_. + +"Comrades, it is but a matter of time," he boasted. "There is +nothing, now, to stand in the way of Proletarianism and the Commune." + +From somewhere in the crowd a voice interrupted: + +"What about the Enemy of the Commune? What about the White Knight?" + +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. + +Gonnard, bewildered and perplexed by this sudden turn to his oratory, +gazed stupidly at the crowd, and gave no reply. + +"Speak louder. I cannot hear!" called some one waggishly, and there +was a hoarse roar of laughter. + +"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!" + +"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. + +Gonnard flushed a dull red. "Well, then," he cried out angrily, +"supposing you tell me." + +"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." + +"Bah!" answered Gonnard, "the _bourgeois_--are you then frightened of +a _bourgeois_, comrades?" + +There was dead silence again. Gonnard laughed harshly. "Cowards!" +he cried, "cowards, all of you! Frightened by some half-witted +_bourgeois_ who calls himself by a strange name." He sneered, +palpably. + +"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." + +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. + +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!" + +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!" + +At his words there was a dramatic interruption. + +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. + +"I accept your challenge, Comrade Gonnard. But it is you who will +swing, not I!" + +* * * * * * + +Comrade Gonnard, as befitted a People's Commissary and a +representative of the Workers' Council, took up his headquarters at +the _château_ of Baron Szechenyi. + +No formality about this. He, together with local commissaries, +merely marched up to the _château_, 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 _château_ was filled with the scum of Aszod. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +When at last a movement rippled through the crowd there ensued a +scene of confusion. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +In the evening came Gunzi. + +"Well," snapped Gonnard, "what news?" + +The detective shrugged his shoulders. "None." + +"None!" exploded the Commissary. "The Devil take it, what are you +men here for? No wonder the _bourgeoisie_ still walk around, +unchecked. I thought Aszod was loyal to the Commune. Are you all +fools?" + +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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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.'" + +"Nemesis! Who is he? That's not a Hungarian name," said Gonnard. + +"I knew not, till I asked the schoolmaster, who roared with laughter +when I asked him." The detective's eyes narrowed. "He is a +_bourgeois_, that schoolmaster. Him I will soon put into prison." + +"But Nemesis?" prompted Gonnard. + +"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." + +"What about Fejer and Pauler?" + +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!" + +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! ... + +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. + +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 _bourgeois_ residences. + +"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. + +Gonnard glared at the boy. "What do you mean, son? A letter for me? +Where from?" + +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 _château_ 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." + +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. + +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. + +"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: + + +Within a week you will hang, Comrade Gonnard, and so the death of two +honest Hungarian officers will be avenged. + +THE WHITE KNIGHT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.... + +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. + +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? + +"Well?" asked Gunzi inquiringly. + +"Nothing--nothing," muttered Gonnard. "I want to know about that +note." + +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?" + +"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." + +Gonnard groaned. The explanation might fit anyone in the world. +"Get out!" he shouted. The boy turned tail and ran, wondering what +had happened. + +Gunzi grinned. "Not of very much assistance, comrade. Apparently +the Devil is not as conspicuous as I had believed." + +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 _bourgeois_ 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?" + +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." + +With that he strolled from the room and left the ex-convict and +murderer alone with his thoughts. + + + + +_CHAPTER XI_ + +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. + +He drank his coffee with a gulp, and opened his newspaper. There was +a note pinned to the front page: + + Still six days, Comrade Gonnard. + THE WHITE KNIGHT + + +His face whitened to a chalky pallor; he gazed at the warning with +dilated eyes. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was no _billet-doux_; only once again the fatal warning: + + Five days more, Comrade Gonnard. + THE WHITE KNIGHT + + +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. + +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. + +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 _fata Morgana_. + +When he saw Gonnard he stopped short in surprise and swore, and +Gonnard, seeing him, clutched his arm frantically: + +"You have found him, Gunzi?" + +"No." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +Gunzi turned away: "No, comrade, I do not." + +Gonnard gazed at him incredulously, his head unconsciously wagging +from side to side. "You don't? But ... but you are ... are a +detective." + +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." + +"The telegram he sent me! I forwarded it on to you." + +"I got some sort of description--enough, in fact, for me to track the +sender." + +"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?" + +The detective smiled grimly. "Of course I did. He is in prison now." + +Gonnard looked bewildered. "Then ... why... Surely I ... I am +safe...." + +"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." + +"Then ... then he must have seen the White Knight?" + +"'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." + +Never suspecting what was coming, Gonnard was but mildly curious. +His head was too full of other thoughts. "Well?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Gonnard looked up. "Gunzi, I am afraid," he whispered hoarsely. + +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." + +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. + +"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. + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +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.... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +Just as he had arisen from his bed, dirty and unshaven, he scurried +from the _château_. 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. + +There was no train to Budapest for hours. So said the porter as he +spat on the ground. + +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! + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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.... + +"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. + +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.... + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Gonnard grinned mirthlessly. She was the fairest flower--a few yards +more and she would be in his arms... + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +_CHAPTER XII_ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A rendezvous--a pretty woman--potent wine--and in the middle of the +supper--retribution. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +The other looked at him enviously. "You are a lucky fellow. A case +of beauty and the beast, eh?" + +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." + +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. + +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? + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Not seeing Wenzel, Arnold would have passed on, but the White Knight +stepped forward. + +"Hullo, comrade!" he cried loudly. "So you are back again? How go +things in Budapest?" + +"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." + +"Excellent, excellent! Come, Stephen, I will see you home. You +shall tell me more." + +They moved on, talking evenly until the people thinned out. + +"One of Gunzi's men was near by," explained Wenzel. "But now, why +come you by an earlier train?" + +Arnold's face clouded over. "Bad news, Wenzel; bad news. Apor was +caught corresponding with the Whites and has been arrested." + +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." + +"He will die, Wenzel." There was a quiet suggestion in Arnold's +voice which Wenzel did not fail to perceive. + +"You are right, Arnold. Korvin-Klein is merciless, there is no hope +for him." + +"None at all?" There was wistful pleading in Arnold's voice. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Be quiet!" His voice rasped with anger. "My plans are all +prepared. Nothing must be allowed to upset them." + +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." + +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? + +Wenzel sighed. "You are right, Arnold. Gonnard must wait. We will +catch the next train to Budapest." + +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!" + +* * * * * * + +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 _entrée_, was well into +double figures. + +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. + +Once safely there, apparently unnoticed, he plucked the gag from her +mouth. + +"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. + +She gazed at him unflinchingly. "What do you want of me?" she asked +calmly. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +"So you are a commissary?" Elizabeth looked at him with a quiet +scorn, which pierced even his hide, and his eyes narrowed. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _château_. +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? + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.... + +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. + +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. + + + + +_CHAPTER XIII_ + +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. + +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 +_bourgeois_. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"Yes, yes; but where went he after leaving you?" Gunzi could +scarcely control his patience. + +"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. + +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? + +"Why, yes, comrade, of course I knew him, but he left me four days +ago. Hearing that the _château_ 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." + +Later, Gunzi arrived at the _château_ 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. + +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 _château_? 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. + +"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!" + +"So he will be back to-night?" + +"I am not his mother. He did not tell me so." + +"But you think he will?" + +"Bah! I have no doubt that he will. Myself, I believe he is afraid +of the dark. He will be back. An early worm!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Under the new _régime_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +For a while Wenzel remained quiet, drinking steadily, but after a +time he shuffled uneasily. + +"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. + +"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. + +"Hear! Hear!" There was an echoing chorus, and the toast was drunk. + +Wenzel refilled his glass, and once again pounded on the table. +"And--and damnation--to all Whites!" he bellowed. + +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. + +"Go on, go on!" some one called out encouragingly. + +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. + +There was an unrestrained roar of laughter: "Keep it up, keep it up!" + +Wenzel refilled his glass, the wine spilling all over the table in +the effort: "And may--the--damned traitor Apor--die soon." + +There was a silence. This was news. + +"What's that you say? Who is Apor?" Questions were hurled at him +from all quarters of the tavern. + +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. + +There was a stir of interest. "No, no. Tell us, friend." + +"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." + +There was a wild roar of anger from his listeners, but Wenzel held up +a shaking hand. + +"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." + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +"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." + +"Bah! I know the Parliament House cells, and I say that not even the +White Knight could rescue anyone from them." + +Wenzel wagged a remonstrating finger. "Yes, he could, just same I +could." + +There was a roar of laughter, and Wenzel frowned. + +"Tell us then," his hearers shouted, but Wenzel shook his head. "You +might tell Bela Kun--I hang--keep my secrets--myself." + +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. + +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. + +He moved his chair over to Wenzel's table: "Sit down, my friend, and +tell me. I am interested." + +Obediently Wenzel collapsed on to his chair, then glared malignantly +at the detective: "Why should--tell you and not--not--not other +people?" + +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." + +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. + +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?" + +His words had their effect. Wenzel raised his head and blinked. +"Yes," he muttered, "if you pay." + +"I will pay," Gunzi agreed eagerly, and ordered wine. Slowly Wenzel +raised himself to a sitting position, and drank. + +"Well, comrade, how would you rescue this traitor, Apor?" prompted +the detective. + +"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. + +"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.'" + +Gunzi smiled scornfully. "A fool scheme, comrade. The jailers would +smell a rat. They would refuse to hand over the prisoner." + +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. + +"Why--why ask you all these questions? What does it matter to you?" +His eyes seemed brighter, less bleary. + +"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. + +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. + +"You--you spy!" In a thick, unsteady voice Wenzel accused the +detective. "I will not talk to you. Perhaps I will kill you!" + +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. + +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! + +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? + +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." + +With rapid steps Gunzi made his way toward the Batthyany Palace, and +for the first time obtained a glimpse of Budapest under the Red +_régime_. Everywhere he passed wholesale looting was taking place. +Savage Red guards and drunken Terrorists, riding wildly about in +confiscated automobiles, commandeered food and dwellings. + +Other bands paid domiciliary visits in search of _bourgeois_ spies, +or refugees. Hostages were arrested, to be kept in prison against +the good behaviour of the innocent _bourgeoisie_. + +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. + +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. + +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 _Minnenwerfers_, while +before the gates were three heavy motor-lorries, armed with +machine-guns. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Well, comrade," the guard growled unpleasantly, "what do you want? +This part is unhealthy for sightseers and tourists." + +"I am looking for Bela Kun." + +"Well?" + +"I have news for him, urgent and important news." + +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." + +"To-morrow will be too late," protested Gunzi. "Tell Bela Kun my +news concerns the White Knight." + +"What!" The guard lowered his rifle. "That is different. The +Devil! Why did you not say so before?" + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Bela Kun's eyes narrowed. "This grows interesting. I thought the +fact of Apor's arrest was secret. Go on." + +"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." + +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. + +"Satan! If that is true----" + +His words rang queerly to the astute detective. "What do you mean, +comrade?" he asked hoarsely. "Did you not know that?" + +"No, by God, I did not!" + +"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!" + +Bela Kun waved his hand impatiently. "Tell me more." + +"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." + +"Impossible! Apor is imprisoned in the cells beneath Parliament +House." + +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----" + +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!" + +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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"You mean...?" Gunzi raised his forehead inquiringly. + +"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?" + +"It is the only one," agreed Gunzi admiringly. + + + + +_CHAPTER XIV_ + +Two men crouched back deep in the shadows of Parliament House, +tensely waiting, waiting with a nervousness neither could conceal. + +"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." + +"You can do no more, Geoffrey, than what you have done. In any event +Apor would die." + +"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. + +"That--that, I am afraid, is your weakest link, Geoffrey." + +"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. + +"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----" + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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----" + +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. + +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. + +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... + +For some reason the men seemed disinclined to slam the door, and +start. + +"Hullo, comrade, what noise is that?" asked one. + +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?" + +"You are envious, you," exclaimed the third man. "Let us get this +job over. I feel sleepy." + +"Yes, leave the poor devil alone. He is lucky to get it, that's what +I say." + +The sanguinary one hesitated, and the damage was done. The group had +been seen. Steering an erratic course the drunken singer made toward +them. + +"What ... matter...? What are you men doing here?" + +Wenzel stiffened. The voice was reminiscent. He peered through the +darkness, but the newcomer had his back toward him. + +"Move on, comrade, and mind your own business." + +"Who you telling--mind my business? I am commissary--for me order +you about...." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Wenzel was conscious that one other shadow still remained upright. +"Who is it?" he asked hoarsely. + +"I am untouched--and you, Geoffrey?" + +"Safe--but I am afraid Apor is down." + +It was Apor himself who answered: "Only a flesh wound in the arm, +Wenzel." + +"Thank God! But now we must run like Hell. Quick, Arnold, help +Apor." + +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. + +"Away with you," Wenzel growled--his ear caught the sound of running +footsteps inside Parliament House--"they are coming." + +For one second Arnold hesitated: "And you, Geoffrey?" + +"Leave me, I will join you--later," he answered quietly. + +There was no time to argue. With a quick run Arnold and Apor +disappeared into the night _en route_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"My ankle! What has happened? My ankle, it hurts. Where am I?" He +spoke as though his mind were in a haze. + +Wenzel bent over to him and whispered in his ear: "In the hands of +the White Knight, Comrade Gonnard, and to-day----" + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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! + +* * * * * * + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +The white knight spoke for itself. + + + + +_CHAPTER XV_ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Despite everything she felt a wave of exhilaration: she was still +unharmed, uncontaminated. It was almost a good omen. + +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 _château_ for twelve or thirteen hours, sufficient time to +have confirmed the worst misgivings of her father and of her +fellow-refugees. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Such was her dream-picture of him, such was the cloak of perfection +in which she had wrapped his personality! + +* * * * * * + +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. + +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 _château_ she had learned the real +meaning of Communism, what it had done to her country, and to Russia +also. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.... + +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. + +* * * * * * + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"Come along, my friend, get up." The words had rung ominously to +Apor's ear. + +"And why?" he had asked. The Red guard had grinned. + +"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." + +"My God! But that would be murder. Surely I am at least entitled to +a trial?" + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _château_ with Cecile, with Arnold, or with her +father. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +To his impatient glance it seemed as if Apor and Arnold lagged in +their walk to the _château_, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What is it, Arnold? There is something wrong?" + +Arnold's glance wavered and dropped. "There is, Geoffrey," he said +huskily. "I--I--Elizabeth Kiss has--disappeared." + +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. + +"Tell me!" he said curtly. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"The Devil! What does it mean?" Suddenly Wenzel jerked his head +forward. "Wheel tracks, footprints, were there marks of any kind on +the road?" + +Arnold laughed bitterly: "No one thought of looking. I asked the +same question." + +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?" + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +Presently he became calmer, and in the end he apologized in halting, +broken sentences. + +"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.... + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"While I go to Budapest you must go the other way. Francis can tour +the countryside between Budapest and here; Apor from here onward. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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 _bourgeoisie_, 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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +With his thoughts centred upon her he began his weary search. + + + + +_CHAPTER XVI_ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Despair was in her attitude. Even if she reached a station she had +no money with which to journey back to the _château_ 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? + +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. + +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! + +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? + +She encouraged herself to think of him as she continued her search +for--what? She herself scarcely knew. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _bourgeois_--he asked her pardon for using +the word--what would become of them? + +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 _château_, yet without the slightest +possibility of getting back there! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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." + +"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?" + +"Because he saw you early this morning, and sent me after you. Why +did you hurry away from me?" + +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?" + +"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." + +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." + +"Yes," he answered surlily, "I suppose so. He said that you were to +come with me and I should take you to him." + +"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?" + +"That's none of your business. You wait and ask him yourself. In +the meantime, come with me." + +"I am ready," she said simply. + +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. + +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 +_bourgeoisie_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Why did not the White Knight himself come after me?" + +There was grim humour in her words which unfortunately he alone was +able to appreciate. + +"Huh! So you are suspicious of me, are you, my fine lady? For why +do I work for this spawn of Satan, this _bourgeois_, 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. + +"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." + +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...? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Ho, ho, my fine lady, more suspicions?" He laughed mockingly. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + + + + +_CHAPTER XVII_ + +A lurking shadow whistled sibilantly as Wenzel approached, and the +White Knight, recognizing its low note, knew that Arnold had kept his +appointment. + +"No news for you, Geoffrey." Arnold's voice was full of sympathy. + +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. + +"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. + +"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 +_hors de combat_. Then you can hurry her away, and the deed will be +done. Make up some tale or other as to how you discovered her. + +"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!..." + +In silence they walked along toward their destination, until at last +Wenzel halted. + +"Look, Arnold, you had better have a drink while you are waiting. +Give me about a quarter of an hour, and then follow." + +They parted with a handshake, and while Arnold dropped into an +illicit beer-tavern Wenzel passed on to where he had left Elizabeth. + +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. + +Elizabeth was on the bed, gazing defiantly at him. + +He laughed coarsely. "Well, my little canary, are you glad I have +returned?" + +She did not reply, but continued to gaze at him in a steadfast manner. + +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. + +"Speak, you, or by God! I will choke the breath out of your body +with my fingers," and he waved his hands before her. + +"A gentleman," she said at last, "would take off his hat in the +presence of a lady." + +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----" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Gunzi spoke. Turning to Elizabeth he asked: "Is this the man?" + +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!" + +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! + +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----" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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 _bourgeois_ proclivities." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +But Gunzi was speaking to her, and Wenzel listened, his heart sick +with sorrow. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +The White Knight swayed indecisively. The helpless guard dropped to +the floor, and then Wenzel too collapsed, sprawling across the guard. + +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. + +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 _fracas_. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"How did you know I was here?" she asked. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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 _voilà_! I knew I had found you at +last." + +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. + +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. + +Almost before he had finished speaking she commenced to tell him. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Her eyes glowed with triumph. "Yet, Monsieur Arnold, I have done +this!" + +"You have done that!" he repeated in surprise. "Good God!" + +"Yes," she continued. "By a most wonderful ruse I have deceived the +Communists. + +"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. + +"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!" + +"Good Lord! But, mademoiselle, you are wonderful! How on earth did +you manage to put that piece there?" + +She hesitated for a moment. "No," she said at last, "I do not think +I will tell you that." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Mademoiselle, what do you mean?" His voice rose shrilly. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +What had she done? If he would only speak! + +"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...." + +He spoke in emotionless tones, his voice devoid of any feeling +whatsoever: + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Pogany grunted: "What about Apor? Did your men keep him safe and +sound?" + +Klein flushed. "You cannot blame that on me. Who sent me orders by +telephone?--it was lucky I happened to be there----" + +"Unlucky, I think," interrupted Kunfi. + +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." + +"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." + +"Do you really believe that, my friend?" asked Klein softly. + +"Of course I do!" said Bela Kun truculently. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Very well, I will take the blame. What matter the escape of the +sprat now that we have caught the whale?" + +"Hear, hear!" agreed Bohm. + +"Yes, and let us settle the question as to what to do with the +prisoner." + +There was a chorus of confirmative growls, and several of them would +have spoken at once, but suddenly Szamuelly held up his hand. + +"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?" + +There was not much doubt as to the opinion of the rest of the +Council. Only Agoston raised a protesting voice: + +"One minute, comrades! Where do you intend to see the White Knight?" + +"Why, have him brought here, of course!" + +"And is that safe?" + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Finally, eight other guards posted themselves in various positions, +their duty to keep watch over the crew of the ferry. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +The Communists gazed upon their prisoner with a glance of unconcealed +curiosity, in which was intermingled a _soupçon_ of puzzlement, a +suspicion of disdain. + +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. + +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." + +The humour of the Communists was misplaced. Themselves wearing +stolen clothes--suits from the wardrobes of the _châteaux_, shirts, +collars, and ties from the _appartements_ of the rich--their +criticism of the White Knight's garments merited the satire of +Voltaire, or of the more gentle Lamb. + +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." + +"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. + +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. + +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 _bourgeoisie_, the rescuer +of magnates." + +There was a fresh outburst of hilarious laughter at Klein's long +recital of the White Knight's many titles. + +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 _bourgeoisie_, and whose only fault is desiring a pretty +woman." + +Klein looked at him queerly: "I suppose you don't deny you were +arrested last night by the Red guards?" + +"Of course I don't," whined the other. + +"And do you deny having fought with the Red guards to escape from +them? Is that your idea of innocence?" + +"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." + +"And then?" asked Klein sarcastically. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +"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: + +"Good God, Klein! that man is--is not the White Knight after all! We +have all been hoaxed." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The commotion died away. Szamuelly, his voice seething with fury, +spoke at length to Bela Kun: + +"There cannot be a mistake, Bela Kun. How can you prove that these +words are correct?" + +"Easily. If you do not believe me call Gunzi and Garami, both of +whom have seen and spoken to the White Knight." + +"Right!" said Korvin-Klein, his mouth twisting with an ugly snarl. +"I will send for them both. Then we shall see." + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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? + +"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? + +"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." + +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. + +Soon afterward came Gunzi. In the meantime Korvin-Klein replaced the +muffler round the prisoner's chin. + +Gunzi was asked whether the prisoner was the man he had arrested the +night before. + +The detective looked surprised. "Certainly," he answered, with an +assured air. + +"And he is the same man whom you saw drinking in the beer-tavern the +night before?" + +Gunzi looked at him carefully. Again he answered in the affirmative, +and his tone was still as confident. + +"Very well," said Klein, "now take off his scarf." + +Slowly Gunzi unwound it, and as its last fold exposed the face of its +wearer the detective started back with surprise. + +"But--but--but----" he stammered, and stopped. + +"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. + +"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." + +* * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"What is it? Why is every one talking so angrily and gesticulating +so?" Elizabeth asked. + +Arnold shook his head. "I don't understand. Wait! I will try to +find out." + +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. + +"What is the matter, comrade?" he asked of one man. + +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!" + +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! + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Whatever you do," he muttered hoarsely, "don't make a sound, +but--look!" + +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. + +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. + +"Oh, God!" he whispered. "I have made a mistake. But in the +distance he was the image of Geoffrey." + +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. + +"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." + +Arnold shook his head. "God knows, mademoiselle, I would willingly +believe it, but--he is not the White Knight. Look at his face!" + +When Elizabeth looked she had to agree. That man was not the White +Knight. + +The hours passed, and gradually the crowd dispersed, for at last it +was officially confirmed--the Soviet had not caught the White Knight. + +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? + +Now, with the other people gone, for Elizabeth and him to stop where +they were would have been making themselves conspicuous. + +"Come," he said, and his voice was expressionless. "Let us go. We +must not stop here." + +"But where?" + +He spread out his arms. "Back to the room where--where Geoffrey +was--captured." + +"That will be my--my penance," she whispered. + +"I know nowhere else," he apologized. "I must guard you as I would +guard myself, for--for Geoffrey will be expecting that of me." + +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. + +"What are you doing here?" he asked angrily. + +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. + +"Why shouldn't I be here?" mumbled the man. + +"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. + +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. + +Arnold clenched his fists. "What do you mean?" + +"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." + +"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? + +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. + +"I do not know what you say," he said coolly. "This lady has never +met the White Knight in all her life." + +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. + + + + +_CHAPTER XIX_ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He moved round to the door, and gently twisting the handle pushed and +entered. + +The man at the table glanced up, and the White Knight saw that his +face was twisted with pain. + +Dully he looked Wenzel up and down. "What do you want?" he asked +tonelessly. + +"A word or two with you," Wenzel replied. + +Immersed in the depths of his own thoughts, the man did not +understand. "What do want?" he asked for the second time. + +Tragedy tinged the air, and Wenzel felt its influence. "A few words, +comrade," he said quietly. "I shall not keep you long." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"No, my friend, not until I have spoken with you. You must not kill +yourself. It is not God's will." + +"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!" + +"You mean--Szamuelly?" + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"'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?" + +It was as though the old man suddenly recollected that there was +another man present, for he ended with a snarl. + +"I want--the help of you and your remaining son, comrade--I am the +White Knight." + +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. + +"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?" + +His voice finished briskly, and the White Knight knew that he need +fear no betrayal from this man. + +"Firstly," he said, "your promise. You must not kill yourself." + +The man gazed at him with reproach. "Excellency, I am yours to +command." + +"Good! You are a railwayman?" + +"Yes, Excellency." + +"You are in the telegraph service?" + +"Yes, Excellency." + +"And your son? I believe he also is in the telegraph department at +the Budapest terminus. Is that not so?" + +"Yes, Excellency." + +"Good! Your name, my friend, it is Hervesi?" + +"Correct, Excellency." + +"Now, listen, Hervesi; tell me firstly how you knew that I had sworn +to kill Szamuelly." + +"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." + +"Does he hear much news?" + +"Plenty, Excellency. He sleeps in the same room as a man named +Nyistor, a labourer who is now Assistant Commissary for Agriculture." + +The White Knight smiled. Matters were turning out far better than he +had ever expected. + +"What thinks your son, then, Hervesi, of the Commune?" + +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." + +"Not my country, Hervesi," said Wenzel quietly. + +"Not your country, Excellency?" The man looked puzzled. "I do not +understand." + +"I am not Hungarian--I am British." + +"You--British? Then you are--an enemy!" Instantly Hervesi's face +became suspicious. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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. + +* * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He slit open the envelope. Inside was a plain post card on which +were written six words only: + + Szamuelly shall die. + THE WHITE KNIGHT + + +Szamuelly felt a surge of murderous hate toward the sender, and sent +for Gunzi. + +When the detective arrived Szamuelly handed over the card to the +other. + +"Look, Comrade Gunzi, look! Here is another message which I have +to-day received through the post." + +The detective took and inspected it with a quizzical eye. "He seems +certain of himself," he muttered calmly. + +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. + +"Well, what do you want of me?" he asked coolly. + +"Is there still no trace of the braggart?" + +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." + +"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." + +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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Yes, yes. All that I know. But what of his scars, the difference +in his expression, in the man himself?" + +Gunzi shrugged his shoulders. "The White Knight could most easily +tell you that. Myself, I have only a theory." + +"And that?" + +"I believe that the White Knight's scars were nothing but +grease-paint. During the night he wiped them off." + +"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. + +"Gunzi, you must catch him soon. I begin to feel nervous." + +"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." + +"But the White Knight is uncanny." + +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!" + +* * * * * * + +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. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"Do you think you will get the opportunity--that your courage will +not fail you at the last moment?" + +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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"That is, of course, if you do not succeed to-night, or at any other +time?" + +"To-night is my one opportunity. The trick will not work twice." + +"Why not shoot him when he stops at the villages? From a near-by +window..." + +"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?" + +"I am dull-witted to-night, Geoffrey." + +"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...." + +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." + +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: + +"Because your happiness is mine, Arnold." His lips curved ironically +as he wondered dimly whether his lips had ever uttered a greater lie. + +There was a short silence, but Arnold was bubbling over with too +great a joy to remain quiet very long. + +"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 +_château_? Why have you restlessly moved about from place to place, +as though some one forced you ever onwards? Before then I--I had +thought----" + +"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." + +"Geoffrey, I am sorry! I did not realize. I----" + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. + +Wenzel smiled softly to himself. Poor old Arnold! How his words +stumbled! + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +From afar off they heard a faint murmuring, a tremulous, echoing +vibration. + +"The Death Train!" whispered Arnold. + +Wenzel laughed throatily, and for the first time in weeks there was a +happy timbre in his tone. + +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. + +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. + +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.... + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"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!" + + + + +_CHAPTER XX_ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Szamuelly frowned. "Hullo, Comrade Gunzi, where are you off to?" + +Gunzi laughed cynically: "To better parts, my friend, to better +parts." + +"What do you mean? Has Budapest meant so little to you that already +you are tired of its attractions?" + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"But--but you swore to get me the White Knight!" + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +Two Terror Boys walked by his side. "What's the matter, comrade?" +asked one. "You do not look yourself." + +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." + +"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." + +Szamuelly laughed shortly: "Yet, my friend, what I have to say is +worse than that. The Commune is finished, the days of commissaries +ended." + +The Terror Boys looked at him as if they wondered what madness had +come over their leader. + +"You are not well," growled the second guard, who had not yet spoken. + +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." + +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. + +Yet a certain suspicion suggested itself to one of them. "It is not +the White Knight?" he queried. + +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. + +"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 _bourgeois_; but ... let us continue in our walk. +I want to make all the necessary arrangements...." + +"To scuttle?" + +"Ay, my friends, to scuttle." + +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. + +"My friend," he said softly to Szamuelly, "even though you flee there +is still--the White Knight!" + +"Well!" Szamuelly turned on him savagely. "Do you not think I know +that as well as you?" + +"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?" + +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." + +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." + +"Why should they?" asked the soft-tongued one. + +"Exactly!" agreed Szamuelly. "Then when shall it be?" + +"The sooner the better, if what you say in true." + +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 _coup d'état_, 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. + +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. + +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." + +In the meanwhile, with the assistance of his two comrades, Szamuelly +prepared for flight, blithely abandoning his fellow-murderers to +their fate. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +Barely five yards behind followed another car; beside the driver sat +the White Knight, tense and expressionless like the grim figure of +Fate. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +Szamuelly looked back; the relative positions of the two cars had +scarcely changed ... once again he looked into the eyes of the White +Knight.... + +He leaned forward. "Comrade, for God's sake ... the aerodrome! ... +Behind us the White Knight ... lose his car, we will fly to +Russia...." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Francis, quick, is there an aerodrome in this direction?" + +The boy, for he was scarcely more in years, even if the last few +months had aged him in experience, nodded. + +Wenzel laughed. "That is where he has gone. For God's sake, get +there quickly!" + +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. + +The car drew up, steaming, and Szamuelly tumbled out. + +"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." + +"Why shouldn't I, comrade? I am fond of money. Come to-morrow and I +will see what I can do." + +"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. + +"You are in a hurry, comrade! What bites you? Lenin is not dying, +is he?" + +"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. + +His words were not without effect. The pilot's face creased into +ugly lines, and he turned upon Szamuelly with a threatening air: + +"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. + +"I will make it ten, twenty thousand crowns, comrade, if you will but +take me." He was sobbing now. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +He turned to his fellow-Terrorists. "Comrades, drive like Hell for +the Austrian frontier. It is the only thing left now." + +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. + +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. + +"Why?" They laughed when Francis put the question. "Because he is +on his way to Austria. The White Knight is after him." + +"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. + +At length he got away. Wenzel's face hardened when he heard the news. + +"Well?" he said, and gazed at Francis. + +The boy grinned. "I am ready, monsieur." + +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. + +So they started off. Later they reached the road to the Austrian +frontier, and not until then did Francis open out the throttle. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"By God! Look!" The words burst from hie lips unconsciously. The +two Terrorists glanced back. + +The chauffeur groaned: "The White Knight!" But his companion +unconsciously scratched the palm of his hand--more good English money +for his little store! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The car drove on; there was an intoxicating spirit of cheerfulness +surrounding them. On ... on to Austria! + +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!" + +On ... on. One thousand yards to safety, five hundred, four hundred +... and then--Nemesis! + +As they passed a tiny copse there was a rain of bullets, and they saw +a group of hidden, uniformed men--Hungarian _gendarmerie_, 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. + +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.... + +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. + +The _gendarmes_ clustered together on the borderline, cursing, and +watched their prey escape. There were no Austrian _Volkswehr_ 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. + +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. + +With a rapid gesture Wenzel seized a rifle from out the hands of one +of the _gendarmes_, 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. + +The rifle flashed--for one vibrant, palpitating second nothing +happened. Then Szamuelly just dropped--never to move again.... + +"Too good a death," grumbled the awakened people of Hungary when they +heard the news. + +* * * * * * + +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. + +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, _en route_ 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. + + + + +_CHAPTER XXI_ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +No more did the Count and Countess Bakocz hold court in their pitiful +apology for a _salon_, 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. + +If the drooping _château_ 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. + +Once again was the aged _château_ 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 _château_ decayed, after having been revived for a +brief period by the occupation by the pursued and outlawed nobility. + +Dank and dismal, the _château_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +_coup d'état_. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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 _château_ to work out his own salvation, to +forget! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _château_, living +the life of a hermit, trying to forget ... trying to forget ... and +failing! + +* * * * * * + +The moon was rising, just skirting the trees, when one night Geoffrey +became conscious of voices. + +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 _château_? 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 _château_. + +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. + +"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." + +Arnold obediently halted. Then suddenly Elizabeth saw the old +fountain, and, crossing to it, stood there, watching it in the light +of the moon. + +"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?" + +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 _château_ 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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"Indeed no," Arnold replied in his deep voice. "On the contrary, +mademoiselle, I myself was more than pleased to come. This _château_ +has wonderful memories for me--memories of one night, just like this, +not so long ago, when ... when Cecile..." He stopped awkwardly. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Are you not--afraid?" There was a catch in her voice. + +"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." + +"Then why has he fled from us all?" she demanded. + +"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!" + +There was an unconscious undercurrent in his voice as he spoke the +last few words, and she turned to him. + +"Why do you say that? Why should he be more hideous to a woman?" + +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." + +"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! + +"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?" + +"No, mademoiselle," Arnold answered sadly. "He would not let me +speak to him on the subject of his capture." + +"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?" + +"I--I do not know." + +"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?" + +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. + +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." + +"The truth ... mademoiselle, he worships the ground you walk on, but +... but ... because of his scars..." + +"And what of my betrayal of him?" + +"He would ... he has, I am sure ... forgiven you that." + +"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. + +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. + +With scarcely a sound Arnold disappeared, and they were left alone in +the clearing, alone with the moon. + +"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!" + +"Hush, dear one!" she placed her hands to his lips. "Hush!" + +For a while neither spoke, till in the end Geoffrey broke the +silence, and his voice was changed. + +"It must be impossible. How can you care for me? My scars..." + +"Do you think a woman loves a man only for his face?" she asked. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"If only I might!" he murmured. + +"Then test me," she challenged defiantly; "test me!" + +"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." + +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! + +"Geoffrey!" she commanded gently. + +"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. + +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. + +Surprise! + +"What is it?" he asked roughly. + +"Geoffrey! Geoffrey!" She could hardly speak in her excitement, she +was almost incoherent. "Oh, God! Oh, Mother in Heaven!" + +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. + +"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." + +"You cannot see my ... my scars! Oh, God! You are deceiving +yourself, Elizabeth ... your love is blinding you." + +"No, no, I swear it! Don't you understand, Geoffrey? Your beard, +your moustache----" + +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. + +A wave of happiness flooded his body. Life once again opened out +before him. + +He drew her closer ... they were alone together ... just Elizabeth +and he ... and the moon! + + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78700 *** |