"Not yet, Comrade Szamuelly. The time is not yet. You must wait. Perhaps one day in the future----" Szamuelly laughed scornfully. "Wait! Have we not waited all our lives for the emancipation of the workmen? Have we not planned and plotted to gather the reins of government into our own hands, to rid the country of the accursed gentry, the proud aristocracy? Are we all afraid?" He spread his arms dramatically. From one came a growl. It was the sullen Pogany, the Minister for War. "Hold hard, Szamuelly! be careful whom you accuse of cowardice. Yet I agree with Bela Kun. 'Tis better to wait. We must be recognized as a government by the Entente that the world may know Communism is come to stay. Besides, it is possible that we may go too far----" Szamuelly jumped up from his chair with a gesture of disgust. "Bah! A paltry excuse! It is not going far enough which we should fear. We must crush the dogs under our heels, grind them into the dust, till their backbones are broken and their brains jellied. It is a dead man who does not strike one in the back." It was Kunfi, the ex-journalist, who next interrupted. "Very good, Szamuelly, but in the meantime--what of the White Knight? Can you crush his bones so that he rescues no more of the _bourgeoisie_? Can you hang him in Parliament Square?" There was a brief silence, and Szamuelly became, once again, the centre of interest. "If the rope does not break, comrades," he boasted. Bela Kun smiled softly. "Not so quickly, friend Szamuelly. I have now sent for one Wenzel who claimed to be a better man than the White Knight, and yet--I am afraid Comrade Wenzel must hang. At any moment now he may arrive, and you shall hear, before he dies, how he fared." "In the meantime----?" "We will discuss affairs of State. For instance, I am informed by Comrade Agoston that there are treasures still untouched in the Castle Gisella. We ought to teach its occupants the meaning of the word Communism. What say you, friends?" "Ay, ay." The confirmation was unanimous. Before anyone could speak again there was an interruption. The doors of the council chamber swung open and an officer of the Red Army entered. "Well!" Annoyed by the intrusion, Bela Kun turned to the man, who stood there, unshaven, dirty, and utterly disreputable. Once he had been a refractory private; but on the strength of a long record of disciplinary breaches and subsequent punishment he was considered worthy of a better rank in the proletarian army. "Comrade Wenzel has disappeared." Kunfi laughed gutturally. "He took your threat to heart, comrade." Bela Kun ignored his fellow-councillor and frowned at the officer. "Friend, I gave you orders to arrest Comrade Wenzel. How mean you he has disappeared?"