The physician was the first to detect in the face of his tormentor that terrible phenomenon, _facies Hypocratica_, and when he said to him: "Your face is deathly pale," he as irrecoverably plunged him into the grave that was gaping open for him, as if he had plunged a knife into his heart. The horror-stricken rioters gazed at their master who, for some moments, stood gaping at them with a terribly distorted face. There were two coloured rings round his glassy eyes, his cheeks had fallen in, his lips were turning yellow, the whole man seemed to be a hideous personification of mortal dread. Then, suddenly with a loud yell, he rolled down the steps, and collapsing with hideous convulsions at the doctor's feet, yelled in the midst of his racking torments: "God of mercy, have compassion upon me! ... Doctor, help me! I am dying!" CHAPTER XVIII. THE READY-DUG GRAVES. Imré Hétfalusy, hastening with all his might, reached at last the officer in command of the cordon, and delivered the General's command. The officer at once placed four-and-twenty soldiers at the disposal of the General's adjutant. More he could not spare, as his assistance might be wanted elsewhere. Imré lost no more time in going to the next cordon-commander, but marched straight off to Hétfalu with his four-and-twenty warriors. Only three of them were mounted, the General's adjutant, Kamienszka, and himself, all the rest were on foot. Even with the utmost exertion it would take at least four hours to reach Hétfalu. During the long journey Maria told Imré everything she knew about his family. Nobody disturbed their conversation, the road was empty and noiseless. When they reached the first _csárda_ that also was silent. The doors and windows had been torn from their places, the road was strewn with the débris of casks, bottles, and flasks. Here and there, amidst the ruins, were little pools of blood in which somebody had stood, leaving a bloody trail behind them.... The little band went further on their way in silence. Two hours later they perceived in the wayside woods, concealed among the bushes, three figures which rose to their feet on perceiving the soldiers, and one of them came rapidly towards them, and was so out of breath when he reached them that he could not speak a word, and would have fallen if Imré had not supported him against his saddle. Then Imré recognised the worthy Leather-bell. "What's the matter, old man?" he inquired compassionately. "Alas, alas! my young master, a terrible thing has happened. I cannot describe it in words. I'm only glad that we have saved this innocent creature." "What innocent creature?" "This child, the squire's grandchild, whom Zudár brought up in secret, and the headsman's wife betrayed. But she has paid for it dearly now. They had condemned the child to death. I hid them here beneath the bridge, and gave them peasant's clothes to put on, and helped them to scurry through the woods."