Wenzel did not move, but continued to sit mutely awaiting the journey's end, passively oblivious of anything other than what was passing through his mind. Arnold chafed at the silence, for now that, to a certain extent, the necessity for caution was past, his leader's attitude was uncanny. "Geoffrey, old man, we are nearly there." "Well?" Not a muscle of his face moved. Arnold moved across the carriage so that he sat opposite, hoping that he might read the expression of Wenzel's eyes, but he was disappointed. Nothing was to be glimpsed but an impenetrable blank, an expressionless stare. Arnold wanted to talk. "You have made your plans?" he asked. Wenzel nodded. "As far as possible." "And those?" "We will follow Grocz at a distance. Soon after he has entered the castle we will arrive with a message from Bela Kun, probably something to do with the hanging of this old man. Once inside our wits must do the rest." There was a silence, broken eventually by Arnold. "Geoffrey, why did you not warn me it was you who were the guard that night when we rescued the Count Bakocz? When I felt my pistol butt sink into your flesh I could have gasped with horror. God! It must have hurt you." "Not as much as it did you. You scarcely bruised the skin." "Even so, was there anyone else near by, save the Count, that we had to act so realistically?" "No." "Then--why?" he asked desperately. "Two men only have seen the White Knight, Arnold. You are one, Apor is the other. My very plans centre on the secrecy which surrounds me. I fear even the gratitude of those I rescue. I trust no one--but you." "And I--I am a poor help to you, Geoffrey. Yours is the brain, I am but the muscle. Still, I am more than satisfied. All my life I shall thank God that I came across you that--that day. If I never prove of further use to the world I shall rest satisfied that I have, even in such a small way, helped to alleviate the lot of an unhappy nation, to counteract the ghastly ravages of the handful of murderers who govern the country. "When we were at school together, you and I, Geoffrey, when we used to outvie one another to see who could be the most daring, I am sure neither of us ever dreamed that ten years later we should be here, in Hungary, doing what we are. You were always the leader, though, even in those days. I could never equal you, for strength, for daring--for anything." "Yet, Arnold, if I was the leader, I had more than an able lieutenant, even as I have to-day. Schooldays! They were long ago! They were happy days, those. I have changed. You haven't, Arnold. You are older, a trifle more solemn, but you have still that rugged, unbendable spirit of loyalty. The Spanish Inquisition would not have persuaded you to betray a friend, Arnold." Arnold flushed. He was not used to praise of this kind from his leader, and, embarrassed, he changed the subject. "Once inside the castle, Geoffrey--are you not afraid of being trapped?"