At last he dared to look behind him. For a moment he believed the road to be clear, but when he glanced to his side there was the haunting, visionary avenger, keeping apace, laughing derisively.... "Keep away! Holy Mary, keep him away!" he shrieked, and pressed his foot still harder on the accelerator, and the automobile shot forward. In vain! With incessant, terrified glances he realized that the shapeless form, the chimera of his guilty fear, was joined by two other wraiths, which fell ... and fell ... even as had fallen two Hungarian officers. The car flew on along the rutted roads. The rusted speedometer ticked away mile after mile, but Gonnard drove blindly forward. What matter which direction he took? Behind him the vengeance of the White Knight. If once he stopped he might hang.... For hours the car with its solitary passenger careered on unchecked, taking first this road, then that; its bonnet pointing now to the east, now to the west. The hour might have been five, six, or seven o'clock. Gonnard knew not. The passage of miles meant more to him than the passing time. Moreover, he felt somewhat easier. The last time he had looked he had failed to see the two officers. They had disappeared, left behind, while the White Knight had seemed to be flagging. He wanted to look again, but dared not, lest he should discover that they were back. The urge continued, and slowly his glance slipped round to his side, then to his back, and his heart seemed to bubble over with unexpected relief. The White Knight was gone too, he had outstripped his avenger. He was safe ... safe ... safe! He patted and fondled the car with a loving air, and with his fears dissolving common sense stepped in, making him realize that he must find his way to Budapest before dark, the darkness of which he was still afraid. He passed through one or two villages. He did not recognize them, but when he slowed down and inquired his way of the inhabitants they jerked their thumbs forward with a surly air. Rumours were in the air; hangings had been more frequent; and latterly they were not quite so sure in their own minds that the dictum of Budapest was all that it was represented to be. Conscious of an easier mind than he had possessed for the last week, Gonnard gradually turned his thoughts into more pleasant channels than that of the death he believed he had barely escaped. Once he arrived in Budapest he meant to make up for the past week. Firstly he would put himself under the protection of Bela Kun. Then afterward, perhaps a good meal, and the company of a charming woman, whose lips would not be too backward.... In the days of the Revolution there were many such. There were mothers to be kept alive, or younger brothers and sisters. They had to be fed.... The saddest sights of Budapest during the days of the Red Terror were the women whose gentle, innocent souls were besmirched and befouled so that others might subsist.