"Firstly I would, were I you, dispatch the old man to-night." Grocz grinned in the darkness. "Worry not, comrade. I have already decided to do that--and other things. Only why do you say this?" "Because I have heard rumours. There are certain pig-headed villagers who regard our friend as they would a god. There are hints of a rescue." "What!" Grocz's face blackened. "Who would dare to dispute the judgment of the Dictatorship of the Proletariat? Show me them, give me their names, and I warrant good Comrade Tibor Szamuelly will soon persuade them to change their minds." "Quietly, comrade, quietly! I know no names. I have merely overheard a conversation, and I say--to-night shut fast the gates, post sentries, and give orders that no one may pass in, not even Bela Kun himself." Grocz thought for a moment or two, and then smacked his knee. "Good advice, my friend! We will see that this is done." Inside the castle he rapidly issued orders and the gates rolled to; then Red guards, with loaded rifles, and a bottle of wine by their side, were set to keep watch. Having done this Grocz made his way into the depths of the castle. Here were cells, built by Hungary's defenders, for Hungary's foes. Here in one of them lay a Hungarian defender, placed there by a Hungarian foe. To Imre Kiss came Grocz, gloatingly. "Well, old man, you can say your prayers. At midnight sharp, to-night, you die." "And my daughter?" Imre's voice quavered. All day long, since he had been dragged from above and thrown inside, he had neither heard nor seen Elizabeth, and, sick with anxiety, he had lain on a rough, mouldy heap of straw, hour after hour, praying to his Creator for his daughter's safety, no thought of self, of his own fate, content to die if his daughter be saved, unharmed. In the light of the lantern Imre saw the Communist nod his head. "Don't you worry! She is quite all right." "You--you are not going to kill her? For God's sake let her remain safe and sound! Kill me, but leave her." "Don't you worry, we will do that all right," replied Grocz brutally. "You swear you will look after her?" "Yes, I will look after her." "God bless you," Imre murmured. Then as he left the cell Grocz laughed slightly. Once again Imre saw his face clearly betrayed in the light, and at that moment realized the fate in store for Elizabeth. The horror was too much for his heart. With a tiny sigh he slipped back, unconscious, to the straw-strewn floor. In the meantime Elizabeth knew naught of what had happened to her father. So far as she was aware, the only occurrence was that some time after she shut herself in her room the key clicked in its socket. When she tried the door it was locked. From this she assumed that her father had been treated in a like manner. At midday one of her own servants, with downcast eyes, brought her up a simple meal, set out upon a tray, and putting it down upon a small table quickly made her exit without a word.