"Come along, my friend, get up." The words had rung ominously to Apor's ear. "And why?" he had asked. The Red guard had grinned. "Because why?" he had repeated. "Because Bela Kun has just telephoned through and ordered you to be taken at once to the Suspension Bridge to be dropped over." "My God! But that would be murder. Surely I am at least entitled to a trial?" The guard shrugged his shoulders. "It is none of my business, comrade. Besides, what do you want a trial for? The result would be the same." Apor could not deny it. As assistant commissary he had seen more than enough of the methods of the Communists to know how true was the remark. The blow had been a heavy one. Convinced that for some mysterious reason the Communists had suddenly changed their plans with regard to him, he had been forced to realize how impossible it would be for the White Knight to rescue him, and so, with a sinking heart, he had resigned himself to fate, prepared to meet his death as a man should. By the time the handcuffs were snapped upon his wrists he had given up all hope of rescue, and though he walked with a steady step there had been a bitter smile upon his lips. He had not understood the reason for the urgent need of his death--the Communists knew, of course, of his connexion with the Whites, but as far as he was then aware, they were not cognizant of the fact that he was also a member of the White Knight's band. So, in his own mind, Death had stood at his shoulder, and yet, unbelievably, miraculously, he had been rescued. Instead of being dead he was alive, and his heart filled with a bubbling happiness. No longer need he pretend; now he could openly declare himself a White, and fight for the relief of his country from the clutches of the Bolsheviks. Arnold, on his part, was filled with a sense of satisfaction, and, better still, a pleasurable anticipation. Satisfied, because Apor was safe, and pleased--more than pleased--because in a few minutes' time he would see Cecile again, would look into her eyes, where he hoped to see the flame of welcome, of gladness, because he was still safe and unhurt. Their love still remained unspoken, yet to themselves neither disguised its existence, just as each recognized that it should remain unrevealed until other times--better times--when the Red octopus should be slaughtered. And Wenzel ... in one stroke he had fulfilled his oath to Elizabeth and, by an ingenious plan, had rescued Apor. The one puzzling aspect in the drama--namely, how it was that Gonnard was in Budapest--did not worry him for long. What mattered how he came there? He had met his fate, and Elizabeth was avenged.