By lifting his head slightly he could see the Terrorists below; so visible were they to him, indeed, that he felt sure that he himself must naturally be equally outstanding to anyone who should chance to look up, until he reflected that he was above the radius of the light. Their voices rose clearly to him, and concentrating on one couple, who seemed either to be nearer than the others or talking more loudly, he was able to hear their conversation. "Three-quarters of an hour we have been here. Why don't we get on instead of hanging about?" said one. "Obviously Szamuelly wants to get to Bira just after daybreak so that he can catch the White Revolution in the act." The questioner spat on the ground. "Good enough, comrade; but as we are here why not let us go right ahead? A man hangs as well in the dark. Alternatively, we might as well have slept in Budapest. There are at least women there." "Use your brains, Kerner. If we should arrive in Bira too early every one would be asleep, and if they should wake up to see us standing in the station they would speedily forget to be White and would don their Red cockade again. Every one would be innocent, and there would be no one to hang." The speaker laughed. "Well, and could we not have stopped in Buda, and have left there in time to arrive in Bira soon after daybreak?" "Perhaps Szamuelly thought we should not be too willing to get up." "Huh!" The first man grunted. "Maybe he was right. Once I tumble into bed I prefer to stick there." Wenzel did not listen any more--he had heard sufficient. What need to draw attention to an enemy in their midst by tampering with the engine when, if the Terrorists below were to be believed, Szamuelly was of his own accord delaying the train? He could trust Arnold to do his work well. When Szamuelly arrived he would find no one upon whom to wreak his sanguinary vengeance. There remained nothing else for him to do but to make his escape from the present situation as quickly as possible. Unfortunately he could not return as he had come, the engine-driver effectively barred the way, but he believed that he might creep along to the edge of the coach, and slip down the space in between it and the next one. Still lying flat on his stomach, he moved gradually away from the engine and nearer to his way of escape, but as he looked around he began to realize that, just as a rat confidently enters the inviting trap, only to find his exit barred, so was he too in a somewhat similar position. The Terror Boys were restless. Groups of them sauntered in every direction, many of them now encircled the train in a regular promenade, and the White Knight, as he felt the cold penetrating through his clothes, did not need to conjecture the reason for their movements.