"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."