Instantly he released hold of her, so she drew away from him and tremblingly sat upon the bed, her fingers upon her lips. Yet her expression was not one of loathsome horror as he had expected; instead it was one of bewilderment. He wondered why, because he was not to know that during that long kiss Elizabeth had received a surprise. She had read his expression, had seen quickly what was going to happen, and had been unable to prevent it. His burning lips had come into contact with hers, and she had expected from them a bestial, sensuous kiss. Instead their pressure had been soft and loving, their contact caressing. After that momentary pause there was a dramatic interruption, a pounding on the door, the calling of gruff voices, and the next moment six Terrorists burst into the room, Gunzi leading them. The White Knight knew then that he had reached the end of his race, that capture, imprisonment, and death were ahead of him. He leaped for the door, and quicker than the eye could follow his fist had lifted once, twice, and two of the Red guards reeled backward with a grunt of pain; then his hand flashed to his hip-pocket, where reposed a loaded revolver, but just as his fingers touched its ready butt something dug into his stomach, and he saw that Gunzi, the detective from Aszod, had him covered. With a shrug of his shoulders he resigned himself to his fate. He had expected it to come sooner or later, and now that it had arrived... Only one thing pained him. Elizabeth would discover that he was the White Knight. He had hoped to remain but a mythical figure in her memory, one of whom she could dream. Now, if ever she remembered him, it would be only to shudder. Gunzi spoke. Turning to Elizabeth he asked: "Is this the man?" Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, the man who stands there, a prisoner in your hands, is the man for whom the Commune has long searched--the White Knight!" During his adventures Wenzel had succeeded in schooling his expression; whatever his thoughts, they remained secret, being mirrored neither upon his features nor in his eyes, but at this his control gave way. He could not believe the evidence of his ears--Elizabeth, the woman whom he had twice saved from worse than death, to betray him thus into the hands of his enemies! It seemed to him that he must be in the throes of a violent, unpleasant nightmare, and, as if to awaken himself, he shouted: "You lie! You lie! I am a good Communist, me! Believe her not, comrades; she only seeks revenge----" "But who denies it?" interrupted Gunzi smoothly. "Of course she seeks revenge, and rightly so. Who are you, friend, to insult such a worthy member of the Commune? For your very threats to her she seeks revenge." He could not understand Gunzi's words. "What mean you--threats? What have I done to this woman that she should lie about me?" His voice was hoarse, not that his race was ended, but because Elizabeth, of all people, had been the one to betray him.