"Of course I have," growled Bela Kun. "I can see the rogue's face before me now. Bah! the man is merely describing himself: tightening the noose round his neck. Take off that scarf!" With rough hands Klein seized the filthy scarf from the neck of the other and tore it off. There was a stupefied silence. All eyes turned in the direction of the prisoner, then, simultaneously, switched round to the Dictator. Bela Kun gazed with bewildered eyes at the man who stood before him, bound and chained, and then rubbed his eyes frantically. The prisoner, the man they believed to be the White Knight, had not a single scar of any kind apparent on his face or neck. "Good God! Good God!" Bela Kun bellowed to Klein, but his next words, in the hurry to escape, stuck in his throat, so that he merely spluttered and choked. Then, with an effort, he cleared his throat: "Good God, Klein! that man is--is not the White Knight after all! We have all been hoaxed." There was an instantaneous uproar. The members of the Council sprang to their feet, chairs went clattering to the ground, and the hall echoed and re-echoed with the babel of tongues. There were shouts of rage; recriminations were hurled to and fro, while Bela Kun and Korvin-Klein shrank away from the volume of hard words thrown at them. Many, in their rage, pounded on the tables with their fists, others gabbled incoherently, and there was not one present who did not help, in some way or other, to swell the noise till the din became dreadful. Only the prisoner remained quiet, his face twisted with anguish, and white with the pasty pallor of fear. But no one questioned the fact that he most emphatically was not the White Knight; of this there was not the slightest atom of doubt. There were no disfiguring scars zigzagging across his face, transforming it into a satanic and horrific mask. It did not repel, or create a violent sensation of monstrous iniquity. Indeed, his face was, if anything, inclined to be handsome, his complexion more or less pure, and, perhaps, if it had not been for its almost deathly whiteness, it might have even created an impression of health. The commotion died away. Szamuelly, his voice seething with fury, spoke at length to Bela Kun: "There cannot be a mistake, Bela Kun. How can you prove that these words are correct?" "Easily. If you do not believe me call Gunzi and Garami, both of whom have seen and spoken to the White Knight." "Right!" said Korvin-Klein, his mouth twisting with an ugly snarl. "I will send for them both. Then we shall see." Rapidly he issued his orders. The prisoner, his attitude already easier, was taken on one side, while the members of the Supreme Soviet Council discussed the situation.