An unrelieved blackness settled over the countryside before Arnold intimated to Wenzel that everything was ready. Only from the mansion itself was there any illumination, for, despite all possible precautions, from two or three windows came the dull gleam of candlelight. There were no curtains by which the unfortunate refugees could conceal the light, so overcoats, cloaks, and other articles of wearing apparel were made to serve instead. Wenzel proceeded toward the _château_ until he was near enough to glance in turn through several peep-holes. The scene was anything but cheering, and despite his hardened heart he could not help feeling a tinge of pity for those inside. The rooms within were bare of any semblance of furniture or decoration other than what the occupiers themselves had made. Naked walls grimly frowned down upon bare floors, and in the general decay one room was no better than the next. In the majority of the bedrooms the only beds consisted of dried leaves over which were flung ladies' petticoats as sheets, men's overcoats as blankets. Wenzel soon noted that the hands of the fairer sex had not remained idle any more than those of the men. Here and there were bunches of wild flowers, their beautiful colours serving, in some cases, to help hide some of the worst patches on the walls. Pieces of fantastically shaped wood had been tied round with pieces of ribbon, lace, or other trimmings, and these were placed in positions where they could best ornament the rooms. In several cases the scene had been brightened by cleverly executed charcoal drawings portrayed on the walls, and here and there Wenzel glimpsed colours, though how the artist had obtained them he could not guess. The men had apparently set to work with a will, aided by what carpenter's tools Arnold had managed to obtain for them, for there were crudely fashioned chairs scattered about, or else uneven three-legged stools. In one room was a rough table. Somehow Wenzel was grotesquely reminded of the _Swiss Family Robinson_, of _Crusoe_, and other similar tales of boyhood days. As he looked in upon the _château_ it seemed to him as though the people inside might also have been cast away on some desert island. To think that they were in the centre of a supposedly civilized continent.... Arnold was waiting for him by the door. "Everyone is madly anxious to speak to you," he said. "I can see only a few," Wenzel answered curtly. He knew beforehand that he was going to be embarrassed by their gratitude, and it annoyed him. "Haven't you told them, Arnold," he continued testily, "that I am doing all this purely for revenge, and to have a chance of killing some of the Communist brutes? Haven't you explained that their lives mean nothing to me?" Arnold grinned in the darkness. Perhaps he knew his leader better than the White Knight knew himself. "No, I haven't. I have left that for you to do. However, who will you see first?"