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.