Wenzel's eyes narrowed and his nerves seemed to tighten warningly. There was something in Arnold's attitude, in his unusual walk and expression, which prepared Wenzel for bad news. He quickly swung himself down from the tree, and dropped even as Arnold approached. "What is it, Arnold? There is something wrong?" Arnold's glance wavered and dropped. "There is, Geoffrey," he said huskily. "I--I--Elizabeth Kiss has--disappeared." Wenzel battled with his emotions. He felt a tigerish fury arising, but knew that firstly he must hear all and not let his temper cloud his reason. "Tell me!" he said curtly. "She told Cecile that she was going out to pick wild flowers as usual--that was some time between four and five o'clock. Cecile suggested going as well, but Elizabeth laughingly commanded her to finish the picture she was painting, and went alone. "By six o'clock she had not returned. Imre Kiss began to fidget, and when at seven she was still missing he insisted on a search-party. "They divided into groups. One group headed towards the Budapest road, and just near found a big bunch of flowers lying carelessly on the ground, as if they had been suddenly dropped. That was all! All night long they have searched, and there is still no sign of her." "The Devil! What does it mean?" Suddenly Wenzel jerked his head forward. "Wheel tracks, footprints, were there marks of any kind on the road?" Arnold laughed bitterly: "No one thought of looking. I asked the same question." Wenzel felt his blood seething: "Oh, heavens! What idiots, what stupendous fools! Hell! For what are brains made if people do not use them? Fools! Fools!" He clenched his hands in the agony of his thoughts. "And you, Arnold, what do you think?" "Heaven only knows what to think! So many things might have happened. A band of roving Communists may have seen her--a--a--Hades! Geoffrey, I hate to say it, but I must--a licentious lunatic--Heaven alone knows!" Wenzel bowed his head and groaned slightly. "Oh, I hope not. I have not said anything to you, Arnold, but ... I can never hope for anything else, yet just to watch her from a distance..." Suddenly his mood changed again. His passionate temper--born the day he first saw the foul ravishes of the Communists, and aggravated by the mis-aimed bullet which had seared perilously near his brain--burst its always unstable barriers, and Arnold saw deep into his leader's soul, and for the first time saw how near twisting it had been but for Elizabeth. He realized also, if anything should happen to her, how it still might warp. With fierce, angry words Wenzel blasphemed his Maker, reviled the world, and even cursed his parents who had brought him into it. For a brief space he was insane. There was no one, not even Arnold himself, who did not come beneath the flail of his wrath, and Arnold flinched before the torrent of words which Wenzel released.