"I will be frank with you, comrades," he said, after a pause. "I am afraid of the White Knight. Yet listen. If I thought that the Soviet were likely to last I would dare the Enemy of the Commune to do his worst, for I should have all of you, my friends, to guard me against this cursed _bourgeois_; but ... let us continue in our walk. I want to make all the necessary arrangements...." "To scuttle?" "Ay, my friends, to scuttle." There was food for thought in what he had said, and each of his guards digested in his mind the astounding news of which he had just been made cognizant. The one who spoke little thought the harder. "My friend," he said softly to Szamuelly, "even though you flee there is still--the White Knight!" "Well!" Szamuelly turned on him savagely. "Do you not think I know that as well as you?" "Yes, yes. But listen, Comrade Szamuelly. Would you not feel safer if you had a comrade--or, say, two good comrades--with you when you escape?" The second Terror Boy laughed shortly. "My God You are right. Two good comrades, eh, Szamuelly! Three of us--we three--could put up a fight against even the White Knight." Szamuelly's eyes gleamed. So easily had they fallen into the trap which he had laid for them! "Bravo my friends! Then that is settled. We will go together but ... listen! Supposing that the rest of our comrades hear the news. They too will want to come." "Why should they?" asked the soft-tongued one. "Exactly!" agreed Szamuelly. "Then when shall it be?" "The sooner the better, if what you say in true." Could the guard have been at the Soviet meeting taking place at that very moment he would not have needed to add that last rider. Amidst an atmosphere of stark tragedy Bela Kun was resigning the Dictatorship of the Proletariat. In a halting, tearful tone he was informing his followers of the truth--that the Red Army had collapsed, the Rumanians had crossed the Tisza, the Whites had already brought about their _coup d'état_, while all over the country red geraniums were being discarded for white roses, and the Red ensign of bloody Communism was being supplanted by the national flag. Forcefully he drove home the truth: the day of the Commune was ended, and those who valued their necks more than the power they had wielded for the last six months could do worse than resign; he himself set the example. So fell the Dictatorship of the Proletariat on July 30, 1919, and the government of Hungary was transferred to the Presidency of Peidl, who appointed ministers instead of commissaries, and called his government a "Workmen's Government." In the meanwhile, with the assistance of his two comrades, Szamuelly prepared for flight, blithely abandoning his fellow-murderers to their fate. In less than an hour he was packed, while outside the building throbbingly awaited the motor-car which was to rush him and his two Terror Boys to the station to catch the first train to Austria.