"Ay, my friend, at the end of a rope, over the battlements. Then
when it is all over we will cut the rope and he will fall 'plop' into
the Danube. What more could you want?"
"Nothing more. Your scheme is excellent, yet I would give you
advice, comrade." He paused.
"Well, say on," urged Grocz impatiently.
"Firstly I would, were I you, dispatch the old man to-night."
Grocz grinned in the darkness. "Worry not, comrade. I have already
decided to do that--and other things. Only why do you say this?"
"Because I have heard rumours. There are certain pig-headed
villagers who regard our friend as they would a god. There are hints
of a rescue."
"What!" Grocz's face blackened. "Who would dare to dispute the
judgment of the Dictatorship of the Proletariat? Show me them, give
me their names, and I warrant good Comrade Tibor Szamuelly will soon
persuade them to change their minds."
"Quietly, comrade, quietly! I know no names. I have merely
overheard a conversation, and I say--to-night shut fast the gates,
post sentries, and give orders that no one may pass in, not even Bela
Kun himself."
Grocz thought for a moment or two, and then smacked his knee. "Good
advice, my friend! We will see that this is done."
Inside the castle he rapidly issued orders and the gates rolled to;
then Red guards, with loaded rifles, and a bottle of wine by their
side, were set to keep watch.
Having done this Grocz made his way into the depths of the castle.
Here were cells, built by Hungary's defenders, for Hungary's foes.
Here in one of them lay a Hungarian defender, placed there by a
Hungarian foe.
To Imre Kiss came Grocz, gloatingly. "Well, old man, you can say
your prayers. At midnight sharp, to-night, you die."
"And my daughter?" Imre's voice quavered. All day long, since he
had been dragged from above and thrown inside, he had neither heard
nor seen Elizabeth, and, sick with anxiety, he had lain on a rough,
mouldy heap of straw, hour after hour, praying to his Creator for his
daughter's safety, no thought of self, of his own fate, content to
die if his daughter be saved, unharmed. In the light of the lantern
Imre saw the Communist nod his head. "Don't you worry! She is quite
all right."
"You--you are not going to kill her? For God's sake let her remain
safe and sound! Kill me, but leave her."
"Don't you worry, we will do that all right," replied Grocz brutally.
"You swear you will look after her?"
"Yes, I will look after her."
"God bless you," Imre murmured. Then as he left the cell Grocz
laughed slightly. Once again Imre saw his face clearly betrayed in
the light, and at that moment realized the fate in store for
Elizabeth.
The horror was too much for his heart. With a tiny sigh he slipped
back, unconscious, to the straw-strewn floor.
In the meantime Elizabeth knew naught of what had happened to her
father. So far as she was aware, the only occurrence was that some
time after she shut herself in her room the key clicked in its
socket. When she tried the door it was locked. From this she
assumed that her father had been treated in a like manner.
At midday one of her own servants, with downcast eyes, brought her up
a simple meal, set out upon a tray, and putting it down upon a small
table quickly made her exit without a word.
The afternoon dragged on interminably till it merged into the
evening. Once again a meal was brought to her. This time she
questioned the maid.
"Why do you not speak to me, Lenke?"
The woman glanced fearfully at her. "Mistress, I have been forbidden
to speak to you or to answer any questions."
Elizabeth gazed with scorn at the trembling servant. "Are you afraid
of the--the--animals?"
Lenke whimpered slightly. "Mistress, they--they threaten to--to kill
me unless I obey their commands."