To Hungary came Bela Kun, the chief apostle of Lenin and Trotsky, where, in an incredibly short time, he enrolled under his banner of Communism criminals of all types, and elected leaders: Bohm, Pogany, Agoston, Harcoq, and Szamuelly. "Down with the _bourgeoisie_, long live the proletariat!" became the cry, and to the echo of these hysterical screams poor Hungary commenced the worst year throughout the pages of its history, during which it was to live under a reign of terror worse even than the French Revolution. To Budapest, a seething hotbed of Communism, came Geoffrey Templeton in search of the girl of whom he had dreamed during the long years of war, the woman he had never forgotten. Arriving at the East station, he was amazed by the dark, dismal gloominess of the once glorious terminus. Where before had wandered well-dressed travellers, rubbing shoulders with gaily uniformed officers of the Hungarian army, now slouched slovenly men and starving women, while deeper in the gloom lurked ominous shadows. On all sides suspicious glances were levelled at him from wolf-like faces. Here and there he espied men in leather uniforms, their caps blazoning Red cockades, their belts an armoury in themselves. They were the dreaded Lenin Boys, a troop of murderers and criminals, under the command of Josef Cserni, ex-sailor and late prisoner of war in Russia. These Lenin Boys were guaranteed immunity from all punishment for murder or any other crime so long as their activities were confined to the hated _bourgeoisie_ and did not involve the death of notable Bolsheviks. Their very appearance was terrifying, for they were chosen for their height and fiery appearance. As Geoffrey walked toward the entrance one of these Boys pushed against him. "_Bourgeois_," he hiccuped, and spat on the ground. With blazing eyes Geoffrey turned round, and the soldier slunk away. There was a hoarse laugh from one of the onlookers, but otherwise no one took any notice of this incident. It was in vain that Geoffrey searched for a vehicle to convey him to an hotel. No public conveyances of any kind were to be seen, only here and there a charging motor-car, occupied, so far as he could see, by groups of soldiers, or Communists, distinguishable by their criminal countenances, their scarlet decorations. He realized that to get anywhere he would have to walk, and so, picking up his bag, he began to traverse the darkened streets. Here and there street-lights reflected upon advertisement hoardings, blazing with Red posters, huge placards printed in red and black, portraying immense and ghastly figures. Geoffrey heard a sound of pattering footsteps behind him. Out of the dim shadows came the running figure of a man, breathing hoarsely. He passed in a flash, and then the Englishman heard other following steps, and hoarse shouting.