Yes, that is what he is, their prophet!... Now that I think of him, the memory of his dark hyena-like features becomes more and more distinct. He grins appreciatively at his new power. I can see his black sleek head and his hand beckoning death. Gallows are erected wherever he goes. And the gallows, like black Hebrew characters, remain in the landscape when his special train has passed on to some other rebellious district. It is in these black characters that this foreigner is inscribing his name upon our history. Tibor Számuelly has been brought up in the secret rites of hatred and belongs to an ultra-orthodox sect of oriental Jews which is stricter in the observance of its ceremonies than any other. The sect of _Chesidem_ resembles the Hebrews of the Old Testament, grave, prejudiced and dark. It shuns the light of the sun. Its adherents admit of no other truth than that which is contained in the _Thora_, and that only because it is there. This sect interprets the covenant strictly and to the letter; ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth’ is the foundation of its creed. Számuelly’s degenerate soul has been formed and shaped by these rites and teachings. Thus he has become the most characteristic type of this sect whose ruling spirits for many years have lived and increased stealthily in our midst. Hatred has been given free rein, the type has thrown off its mask, and the thirst for vengeance, stored up for innumerable years, is about to be quenched. In the person of Számuelly the Revolutionary Cabinet has found an executioner for the Hungarian people who is blood of its blood, soul of its soul. CHAPTER VII _April 24th._ As it was getting dark last night a man crept into the yard. He looked round carefully: the street was empty: suddenly he ran up the back stairs. Alarming news had been spreading over the town during the day: bands of terrorists are going about arresting people. The Cabinet is issuing open threats, becoming reckless in its fear of overthrow. Strict orders are being sent to the provincial towns. The Directorate of Balassagyarmat has been dismissed, having been accused of weakness and of favouring the gentlefolk. New men are coming forward, a young fellow scarcely twenty years old is to be the Dictator of the proud county. Another of the same type is to command the garrison. Jews have gone, but still Jews are coming. They have orders to take hostages in the county, so that should the Czechs attack these could be thrown to the fury of the mob. Something is necessary to occupy the rabble whilst the Directorate is making its escape. Lights in the windows disappeared earlier than usual this evening, and the steps of the patrols resounded through empty, overawed streets.