Not until he was immediately opposite the once handsome station did he discover that all entrance to the platform was forbidden. "What's the matter, comrade?" he asked of a Red guard who lounged near. "The railwaymen have struck for more money," replied the other. It was grimly humorous, but Wenzel dared not display any sign of his real feelings. He spat on the ground. "Ho! May the fires burn brighter in Hades, but your news is anything but good, comrade! There is a pretty wench anxiously awaiting my arrival some miles off. How am I going to reach her?" The guard grinned. "She will have to wait even longer than a day unless you walk." "Bah! I don't believe you. Wait until the Council takes the situation in hand. The strike will fizzle out like damp gunpowder." "Perhaps." The guard shrugged his shoulders. "Anyway, I hear Comrade Szamuelly is going to settle the dispute. He has a winning way with him, has Szamuelly." "Ay! Well, I hope he succeeds, that's what I say. I hope he does." Wenzel moved away, growling, but if the words which the Red guard caught were enough to make him grin, they were nothing compared with the fury which inwardly consumed the White Knight. So much for good omens! All his plans to visit the _château_ that day, and return at night, completely shattered. He walked heedlessly along the streets, utterly oblivious of the people in his way, so that there were several into whom he banged, passing on without a word, and because they were rapidly becoming crushed and cowed by the Terror they continued meekly and unprotestingly. For perhaps twenty minutes he traversed the streets; not until then did it occur to him that he might walk to the _château_. It would be a long and arduous tramp, but had he not been hardened to such by four years of route marches? To think the matter over he stopped for coffee at one of the innumerable coffee-houses, many of which were still carrying on a desultory trade. The Château Juhusz, though more modern than the Castle Gisella, had long ago fallen into decay, and in consequence had been deserted by its owners. Built during times of peace, it had been designed more for comfort than utility, and so the ravages of time, which left older and more strongly built residences comparatively untouched, had eaten into the delicate fabric of the building and underpinned its less solid foundations. It was Apor who had suggested these quarters as an admirable hiding-place for the hunted refugees, and Wenzel, examining its situation with a critical eye, recognized its advantages. Built deep in a thick pine forest on the slope of a small valley, it was encircled in every direction by well-wooded hills, and was completely shut off from the world. The nearest village was approximately ten miles away; with it, naturally, the nearest railway station.