"I must go, monsieur. There are others who wish to express their gratitude to you beside myself." With an effort she kept her tone at an even level, concealing the disappointment which she felt. His thoughts were chaotic. He did not want her to go so quickly--there were still many questions he wished to put to her, anything to keep her near him; but his lips seemed paralysed. He was saved a final decision. The door opened and Terhune's voice rang out: "Geoffrey, I am sorry to interrupt, but Apor is here with grave news." Instantly his brain cleared. "Mademoiselle, you will excuse me!" Her lips twitched bitterly. There was a faint note of pleasure in his voice. Evidently he was pleased to get rid of her! "I will go at once," she said. Terhune guided her to the door, and when he came back Apor was with him. "Shall I light up now? The window is well covered," asked Terhune. "Yes, yes. I am tired of the gloom." When the candle was alight Apor turned to Wenzel. "My only hope was that you would be here, though how I even guessed that you might be I do not know. Telepathy, no doubt. How did you get here? There is not a single train running." "Walked here," Wenzel grunted. Apor whistled in surprise, and gazed at his leader with admiration in his eyes. "It must have been a hard walk, Wenzel. For myself, I confiscated a motor-car and left it in the woods three miles away. Wenzel, if ever your help is needed, it is now, at once. The Devil's let loose. "Just after three to-day the news came through to the Council that a counter-revolution had broken out in Bira. There was an uproar. Szamuelly said that if the Soviet were to reign supreme all counter-movements must be squashed. For three hours he pleaded for a free hand to take his Death Train to Bira to settle the revolution his own way, but there were some there who hesitated at the idea. In the end he won. I left at once and searched Budapest for you or Terhune. I found no trace, and something prompted me to try here. "Wenzel, some time to-night the Death Train will leave Budapest for Bira. If it ever gets there, God help the poor devils! Szamuelly is a fiend incarnate. Something must be done to stop him arriving. If we can but delay him twenty-four--or even twelve--hours one of us might get there in the meantime, break the movement up, and get the ringleaders of it to flee for their lives." Wenzel nodded his head. "You are right, Apor. How many miles is it to Bira from here?" "Seventy." "Good! Then give Arnold your car. Arnold, you must go at once to Bira. Fortunately only to-day I bought a map. Here it is. Drive like Hell! You ought to be there at the very most in six hours. In the meantime somehow or other we must delay the Death Train." "But how?" It was Apor who put the question.