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.