"None!" exploded the Commissary. "The Devil take it, what are you
men here for? No wonder the _bourgeoisie_ still walk around,
unchecked. I thought Aszod was loyal to the Commune. Are you all
fools?"
The other man flushed. "Hold hard, comrade. Don't be too easy with
your words. 'Tis not so long ago that you yourself were on the wrong
side of cell bars at Budapest. I do not forget faces quite so
easily. You had another name then. Let me see. It was for
desertion, and robbery with violence. You, my friend, have reason to
be thankful that the people are in power, and not the aristocracy."
There was an awkward silence. Gonnard had not realized that he might
be recognized, though actually this could make little difference to
his position. He was only one among many.
"I'm sorry, friend, if I spoke hastily," he mumbled presently. "Now
tell me more of this White Knight. What is he? Who is he?"
Gunzi laughed. "The Devil himself, it would seem. The first we
heard of him here in Aszod was about a week ago. One morning we
found, pasted over the official posters of the Soviet Government,
slips of paper bearing the words: 'Proletarians, beware. Nemesis is
on your track. The White Knight. An Enemy of the Commune.'"
"Nemesis! Who is he? That's not a Hungarian name," said Gonnard.
"I knew not, till I asked the schoolmaster, who roared with laughter
when I asked him." The detective's eyes narrowed. "He is a
_bourgeois_, that schoolmaster. Him I will soon put into prison."
"But Nemesis?" prompted Gonnard.
"Oh, yes, Nemesis. He told me Nemesis was a daughter of Nyx, a
person who metes out punishment to the unjust. Bah! They think to
get the better of good proletarians with their long words and foreign
names. Wait until I get my hands upon this woman, Nemesis, or the
White Knight either."
"What about Fejer and Pauler?"
Gunzi pursed his lips. "Ask me not, Gonnard. All I know is that
they were both found dead, and each had in one of his pockets--a
white knight!"
His sibilant voice lowered itself toward the finish of the sentence,
and Gonnard shivered. "It is you who will hang, not I." Again in
his ears rang the confident challenge hurled at him across the heads
of the populace. Supposing he failed in his boast, and, worse,
supposing the Enemy of the Commune were successful! ...
Involuntarily his hand flew to his throat and he loosened his shirt
collar. It was rather too tight to be pleasant. Gunzi's mouth
slowly widened into a grin.
There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" cried Gonnard, and there
entered a small boy of about eleven years of age, dressed in clothes
far too large for him, which, judging from the cut and the material,
had been filched from one of the _bourgeois_ residences.
"A letter for you, comrade," announced the newcomer, his remark
punctuated by an oath. The gamins of Hungary spent a royal time
during the Commune. Released by order of the Soviet from all
authority whatsoever, of their parents or of their school-teachers,
they revelled in their freedom and made the most of their opportunity.
Gonnard glared at the boy. "What do you mean, son? A letter for me?
Where from?"
The messenger grinned. "Don't get excited, comrade. It's not from a
lady. I was walking down the Palyaudvar-utcza when a man came up to
me and asked me if I would like to earn ten crowns. 'Make it twenty
crowns,' I said to him, 'and I'm your man.' 'All right,' he growled.
'See, here's a letter. Take it up to Comrade Gonnard, who is living
in the _château_ of Baron Szechenyi. He will be pleased to get it.'
Then he gave me this letter, and I immediately brought it along.
Give me a crown, comrade, and you can have it."
Gonnard scowled. "Son of a pig, hand it over." He half rose from
his seat, and the boy quickly tossed it on to the table in front of
him.
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.