More hours passed. Elizabeth never knew how many, but it seemed a score or so. The room was in pitch darkness. Racked with physical pain from her bruised body, mentally a prey to an overwhelming fear, she sat in a chair, sick and dazed. So Grocz found her when, bearing aloft a flickering candle, which he set down, he visited her to make her acquainted with the orders of the Dictator of the Proletariat. "I have brought you a light." She looked up at him dully. "My father--won't you tell me, please? Where is he? What are you going to do with him?" Grocz frowned. "Swing the old man to perdition." The shock paralysed her muscles. She could only look up at him dumbly, trying to pull together her scattered thoughts, to make some coherency of his words. "So shall suffer all enemies of the Commune," he boasted. "So should you too, my pretty lady, and yet--" he moistened his thick, sensuous lips--"it would be a pity if the world lost such a charming young person. My efforts with the Soviet have served you, sweet Elizabeth, and they have put your life in my hands. "Fear not, you shall not die, though your father hangs at midnight. I shall myself see that the work is faithfully carried out." He paused, and unconsciously his fingers touched his head, still bruised and tender where Imre's stick had caught it. "Afterwards--" he bowed--"afterwards, pretty lady, you may expect me here. Your life is mine, I shall make good use of it. See, I will leave you this candle till then. It shall not be said that I was unkind to the little lady whose life I have saved." With which he withdrew from the room, his eyes flickering as he shut the door. _CHAPTER VI_ "Ho, there!" Two men stood outside the castle gates, cursing beneath their breath. On the other side a Communist laughed noisily. "Hullo, comrades! What want you at this time of night?" "We come with a message to Comrade Grocz from Bela Kun." The Communist laughed again, and turned to his companion, whose besotted face grinned vacantly. "A good joke, eh, my friend! A message from Bela Kun. What was it good Comrade Grocz told us? 'Open not the gates even to Bela Kun himself.' Ha, ha! You will have to come again to-morrow, friends." He swayed unsteadily on his feet. "Open! Our message is important." Wenzel's voice hardened. "Unless Bela Kun's orders are obeyed your necks may stretch." Imre's potent wine had done its work well. "Who cares for Bela Kun? To-morrow I may be the Dictator, or at least a commissary. Or else my friend here. Good night, brothers. Come again to-morrow." Arm in arm the two guards turned their backs and reeled into the interior of the castle, carrying with them the flask of wine.