Who had built it in such an inaccessible spot, and why, Wenzel had been unable to fathom, but at any rate it was more than admirable for the purpose suggested by Apor. If the Communists imagined for a moment that the _ci-devant_ magnates, reared in the lap of luxury, could eke out an existence inside the weather-scarred walls of the _château_, they were content to leave them there unmolested; except where prisoners came easily to their hands, plunder was of paramount importance. A ten-mile march over the hill-tops with no prospect of loot at the other end would be a senseless waste of time--so the retreat sheltered many who owed their lives to the White Knight. By train and a subsequent walk the total distance was nearly forty miles, but, remembering that the railway track curved fairly considerably about twenty miles out of Budapest, Wenzel had a shrewd suspicion that by road the distance might be appreciably less. He paid his reckoning, quickly left the coffee-house, and made his way toward the shopping district. Some of the shops were open, but their windows were lamentably bare. In the Communistic dictionary the word shopkeeper is synonymous with _bourgeois_, and so the Reds in Budapest had the happy trick of descending upon the unfortunate shopkeepers and, in the name of the Soviet, appropriating the greater part of their goods, for the benefit, usually, of the reformed battalions of Red guards. Twice, in less than a quarter of a mile, Wenzel entered a possible shop and inquired for a road-map of Hungary. In each case the reply was the same. One of the men had tears in his eyes. "If you had come but the day before yesterday I could have served you. Yesterday"--he choked--"the Red guards came in. They were marching to the front, they said, to send the cowardly Czechs scuttling back to their own country, and therefore in the name of the Government they demanded all my stock. I must be patriotic, they said. They took everything, whether it was of use or not. What they did not want the men gave to their wives or mistresses. I am penniless now. All I ... I can do is ... is to become a Communist myself. Perhaps I shall be better off then." Eventually Wenzel secured what he wanted. Poring over the map with eager eyes he discovered that his assumption was correct. By road, so far as he could estimate, the distance would be not more than twenty-seven to thirty miles. Thirty miles! A seven-hour walk at the most! Wenzel glanced at his watch. There would just be time to get there before night blotted out the unknown roads. He memorized the map, deeming it unwise to consult it more than necessary, and once having fixed the route in his mind he set out. The hours passed by. About noon the sky clouded over, and Wenzel cursed, afraid it presaged rain, but a westerly wind soon carried the darkest patches along, and the sun shone again, though fitfully.