Clutching the envelope Gonnard slit it open with his dirty thumb, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. This he opened, and then, as he read, choked with fury. "My God," he called out hoarsely to the detective, "read this!" With a livid face he held it out to Gunzi, who perused it, his forehead lifting slightly in his surprise: Within a week you will hang, Comrade Gonnard, and so the death of two honest Hungarian officers will be avenged. THE WHITE KNIGHT While Gunzi reread the message, studying the handwriting, searching for the watermark of the paper, or any other clue which might ultimately lead to the disclosure of the mysterious White Knight, Gonnard cast back his memory in retrospection. It was one night some months before. Budapest lay covered in a white mantle of snow, which happily concealed the garbage and rubbish littering the streets. He and two other Communists were straggling home. Fortunately the streets were empty; people were afraid to wander much those nights, for parties of ex-Russian prisoners and numbers of ex-soldiers, disbanded but not disarmed, roamed the countryside, shooting and pillaging, even daring to enter the towns. The three Communists wandered on, hazy with drink, their revolvers spitting fire, which, in lieu of finding human billets, broke lamp after lamp, window after window. They had nearly reached their quarter when round the corner strode two officers of the demobilized Hungarian Army, their uniforms still glistening with the emblem of the royal crown. The sight maddened the Communists, for the majority of ex-soldiers, who for four years had, day in and day out, pluckily withstood the forces of invading hordes, who, indeed, had fought for this very emblem, now would tremblingly hack it off at the command of a few of their own countrymen. Lining up, they stopped the two officers, and hoarsely ordered them to strip, their revolvers pointing with unpleasant directness at the stomachs of the two men. With a haughty motion of the chin the elder of the two, disdaining the drunken men, stepped forward, and would have passed, but Gonnard's pistol flashed, and a crumpled body slumped to the ground, where it was quickly accompanied by the corpse of the second officer. Thus died two who escaped the bayonets of Hungary's enemies to die of the bullets of Hungary's men--the red of their blood gradually dyed the pure white of the snow--the insignia of the Crown blemished by the symbol of Communism. Like a wraith he saw again the haughty officer falling--falling toward him; the accusing eyes approaching nearer, the outstretched hands grasping for his throat.... He called out chokingly, and the ghost dissolved into the smoke of a cigarette which the placid urchin of the streets blew out of his mouth in thick clouds.