"Sooner or later his nerve will crack. He will begin to suspect even his own men, and when suspicion once enters the mind nothing will drive it out again. When that time comes he will hesitate to sleep lest during those hours a knife should be plunged into his bosom. He will fear to eat lest the food should be poisoned. When he reaches that stage he will flee from the Death Train, from his Terror Boys, perhaps even from Budapest, and then he will be my prey, and I shall kill him with more pleasure than I should have in exterminating a rabid dog." "That is, of course, if you do not succeed to-night, or at any other time?" "To-night is my one opportunity. The trick will not work twice." "Why not shoot him when he stops at the villages? From a near-by window..." "And if I missed? Arnold, I have seen that butcher hang men and torture children for the mere love of cruelty. He scarcely seeks excuses for his vile work. What would happen to the villagers if, as I have said, I missed him? How many would he hang in revenge?" "I am dull-witted to-night, Geoffrey." "You are too happy to think of anyone or anything, my dear chap," Wenzel said softly; then he sighed. "I envy you, Arnold, but I am glad, deuced glad! You have earned your reward and Cecile...." Arnold laughed happily: "I had not meant to say a word to her, but last night ... you must have noticed the moon, Geoffrey; it seemed to have a smirk on its face, and when I looked at it, it seemed to wink at me and then grin derisively. The next thing I knew the words were out of my mouth, Cecile was in my arms, her lips pressing against mine.... I wonder why I am telling you all this, Geoffrey? I had always thought that a man's sensations on such a night were sacred to himself alone." In his heart Wenzel agreed, for every word that Arnold uttered flayed his soul, seared into his heart, and reminded him of another night when the moon had winked at him in the same way, and a similar torrent of passionate words had forced themselves from his lips.... Memories! Memories! Was he never going to be free of them? Memories of Zita! Memories of Elizabeth! His heart cried out in agony, but his voice was calm when he answered: "Because your happiness is mine, Arnold." His lips curved ironically as he wondered dimly whether his lips had ever uttered a greater lie. There was a short silence, but Arnold was bubbling over with too great a joy to remain quiet very long. "Do you know, Geoffrey, this is the first time we have talked together, alone like this, since the day you walked free from the hands of the Communists? All this time my curiosity has remained unappeased. How in the name of God did you deceive them? Your--your scars, Geoffrey, what happened to them? Why have you avoided the _château_? Why have you restlessly moved about from place to place, as though some one forced you ever onwards? Before then I--I had thought----"