"Tell you! Why not? Have I not heard the story from Comrade
Hamburger himself? This Apor was a good Communist, yet secrets of
the Soviet drifted out, and the Council wondered why. One--one day a
detective searched this Apor's correspondence. What do you think he
found, friends?" He paused dramatically, and looked round with a
triumphant grin. "He discovered, comrades, that Apor was a spy,
corresponding with Vienna, acting for the Whites."
There was a wild roar of anger from his listeners, but Wenzel held up
a shaking hand.
"Peace--peace, friends. There is more to tell you. Not only was
Apor a spy for the Whites, he was also acting for one of whom we have
all heard ... heard. The White Knight, friends, the White Knight."
There was a momentous silence, broken only by a gasp from Gunzi.
Then, suddenly, the tavern resounded with hoarse cries of anger.
Many rose to their feet. "Death to the traitor, death! Hang him!
Torture him! Make him confess! Make him tell of the White Knight!"
If Wenzel had hoped to create pandemonium he had undoubtedly achieved
success. Presently the clamour subsided, and once more all eyes were
turned in the direction of Wenzel, who continued to stand upon his
feet, but only with an effort. He swayed to and fro, his eyes
blinked and watered under the cap which was crushed down over them.
They could see only the lower part of his face, and that but
indistinctly, for the scarf which was wound round his neck and chin
reached as high as his lower lip.
Wenzel laughed gutturally. "What--what use shouting, comrades? Apor
will not die. White Knight will rescue." His speech became more
indistinct, and his audience feared that he would collapse in a
drunken stupor before his story was finished. Some one dexterously
removed the half-finished bottle from the table.
At the same time this last statement was received incredulously.
Some one remonstrated: "Yah! Yah! You talk loudly, my friend. How
could anyone rescue Apor? Is he not in prison?"
"Apor in prison." Wenzel laughed, and the saliva dribbled from the
corners of his mouth. "Of course. He is in Parliament--cells. Yet
White Knight will rescue. Easy enough."
"Bah! I know the Parliament House cells, and I say that not even the
White Knight could rescue anyone from them."
Wenzel wagged a remonstrating finger. "Yes, he could, just same I
could."
There was a roar of laughter, and Wenzel frowned.
"Tell us then," his hearers shouted, but Wenzel shook his head. "You
might tell Bela Kun--I hang--keep my secrets--myself."
His talk was incoherent, the interest of the others began to lessen.
They had obtained all the news they could from him, and now they
wanted none of his drunken babblings and theories of impossible
rescue.
Yet there was one who leaned forward, eyes gleaming interestedly.
Gunzi knew well the potent influence of drink: in his time he had
secured many a guarded secret from a man "liquored up" to a degree of
nicety, and Gunzi, reading the signs, was convinced that the man to
whom he had been listening had reached that stage.
He moved his chair over to Wenzel's table: "Sit down, my friend, and
tell me. I am interested."
Obediently Wenzel collapsed on to his chair, then glared malignantly
at the detective: "Why should--tell you and not--not--not other
people?"
Gunzi shrugged his shoulders. "They are fools, they would believe
anything. Myself, I would not. I ask you to tell me so that I can
point out to you how impossible would be your plan."
For a moment he believed the Devil had been raised in the other man,
for Wenzel shot out a clawing hand which searched for the detective's
throat, while Gunzi shrank back, his small rat-face paling, but the
effort was too much for Wenzel. His arm relaxed, fell heavily upon
the table, and his head followed suit.
Gunzi frowned. Supposing he learned something of advantage to Bela
Kun! It was not unlikely that the Dictator might reward him. He
leaned forward and whispered: "More drink, eh, friend?"
His words had their effect. Wenzel raised his head and blinked.
"Yes," he muttered, "if you pay."
"I will pay," Gunzi agreed eagerly, and ordered wine. Slowly Wenzel
raised himself to a sitting position, and drank.
"Well, comrade, how would you rescue this traitor, Apor?" prompted
the detective.
"Easily. Suppose ... suppose, for instance, I were this--this White
Knight. Would I wait longer than early to-morrow morning rescue
Apor? No, comrade, for if I were the White Knight I should hear that
to-morrow Apor--come before Korvin-Klein. There--therefore should I
act even before the sun rises above the--the horizon.
"To Parliament House I should go with a letter from Bela Kun himself,
an order to release an unnamed prisoner." Wenzel chuckled, and
looked cunningly up at Gunzi from the corners of his eyes.
Unconsciously his hand wandered to his breast pocket and patted it
caressingly. "What would the jailers say? 'What want you ... this
prisoner?' I should tell them.... 'Bela Kun's business. Apor to be
hanged elsewhere.... Allies might hear of it ... interfere.'"
Gunzi smiled scornfully. "A fool scheme, comrade. The jailers would
smell a rat. They would refuse to hand over the prisoner."
Wenzel leered. "Yah! You take me for big fool! I am not that, no.
I am all ... I ... I would be all prepared. Do I not know the jailer
would be curious?..." Somehow the expression of his face changed,
and Gunzi saw a look of suspicion cross the features of the other.
"Why--why ask you all these questions? What does it matter to you?"
His eyes seemed brighter, less bleary.
"Nothing, nothing at all, comrade." Gunzi endeavoured to appease the
other: "You will drink again?" The detective dreaded that the
symptoms of the drunken man might change. At present he was docile;
just stupid and sleepy. If he should become ferocious, should the
spirit of battle be aroused within him ... Gunzi had seen many a
drunken scrimmage in his time, and with a sinking heart realized that
the other man's temper was slowly rising.
Quickly he ordered the drinks. Wenzel observed the bottle of wine
set before him, and wavered. He stretched out a hand to grasp it,
and Gunzi sighed with relief. The next moment Wenzel rose to his
feet and towered above Gunzi. He seized the bottle and crashed it
down on the table, where it shivered to pieces, the wine spurting in
streams on to the floor.
"You--you spy!" In a thick, unsteady voice Wenzel accused the
detective. "I will not talk to you. Perhaps I will kill you!"
There was drama in the air. Once again Wenzel was the centre of
attraction, and several men near by tensed themselves, ready to
spring to Gunzi's help. Wenzel gazed round him with a belligerent
air, but seemed to realize that the odds would be against him, for
with a growl he turned his back and swayingly zigzagged his way to
the door. This he opened, and the next moment disappeared into the
night, and with scarcely another pause the tavern resumed its normal
appearance.
Nevertheless Gunzi was annoyed that he had not heard the finish of
the scheme, though he believed he had heard enough to assure him that
the White Knight intended to act before the early morning. Some one
ought to be warned!
He communed with himself. He had enough news to give Bela Kun to
warrant asking a favour in return. If he waited until morning the
White Knight might have carried through his plans, and have liberated
Apor. Then of what use would it be for Gunzi to approach him?
He made up his mind, called the waiter to him, and asked the way to
Bela Kun. The man smiled. "Bela Kun may be anywhere. In the palace
of the Hapsburgs, in the Parliament building, or yet, and still more
likely, in Batthyany's Palace. He likes good food, I am told, and
there is nightly a great feast there."
With rapid steps Gunzi made his way toward the Batthyany Palace, and
for the first time obtained a glimpse of Budapest under the Red
_régime_. Everywhere he passed wholesale looting was taking place.
Savage Red guards and drunken Terrorists, riding wildly about in
confiscated automobiles, commandeered food and dwellings.
Other bands paid domiciliary visits in search of _bourgeois_ spies,
or refugees. Hostages were arrested, to be kept in prison against
the good behaviour of the innocent _bourgeoisie_.
Even Gunzi was slightly surprised, though not shocked, and he was all
the more determined to gain a post in Budapest. He began to have
visions of a life about which hitherto he had hardly dreamed. In
Aszod, he realized, he had been too faithful to his duties, even if
he were indubitably a Communist.
He remembered the beautiful mansion in the Theresa Boulevard, and
because he had visions of it still in his mind's eye as he neared it,
its present appearance caused him to rub his eyes and wonder whether
he were dreaming.
In front of the house the pavement was heavily barricaded. Lights
gleaming from the mansion behind the obstructions reflected on the
barrels of field-guns, machine-guns, and _Minnenwerfers_, while
before the gates were three heavy motor-lorries, armed with
machine-guns.
Here and there patrolled Lenin Boys, and Gunzi, looking through the
barricades, could see that each one was armed with revolver,
bowie-knife, and hand-grenades.
Gazing at the mansion in bewilderment, Gunzi compared it to a
fortress, and, as he was afterward to find, the imagery lost nothing
in the searchlight of reality. It was indeed a veritable fortress.
Down in the cellars were stored an enormous amount of ammunition and
quantities of food. Still more, it protected a host of Lenin Boys,
who, under the leadership of Josef Cserni, an ex-sailor of no mean
physical dimensions, terrorized the city of Budapest.
Evidently Gunzi was betraying too great an interest. He felt
something boring into his ribs, and turning round found a Lenin Boy
covering him with a rifle.
"Well, comrade," the guard growled unpleasantly, "what do you want?
This part is unhealthy for sightseers and tourists."
"I am looking for Bela Kun."
"Well?"
"I have news for him, urgent and important news."
The Lenin Boy laughed shortly and jerked his thumb in the direction
of the palace: "I doubt that you have news more important than the
little lady who doubtless occupies his attention at the moment. Try
and see him to-morrow, friend. You will find him more inclined to
listen to affairs of State."
"To-morrow will be too late," protested Gunzi. "Tell Bela Kun my
news concerns the White Knight."
"What!" The guard lowered his rifle. "That is different. The
Devil! Why did you not say so before?"
"Did you give me a chance?" asked Gunzi, but the other had not heard,
for with a muttered "Follow me!" he turned and was threading the
barricades toward the entrance of the Batthyany mansion.
Five minutes later Gunzi was taken to Bela Kun, and there received
another shock. Partly warned by the waiter at the beerhouse, he had
realized that he would find the Dictator partaking of some sort of a
feast, but in no way was he prepared for the positive banquet which
was set out in one of the rooms.
The tables groaned with good food and wine, all commandeered, and
round them sat dozens of Terror Boys, already showing traces of the
orgy in which they were indulging. Not only Terror Boys were there,
but many women, kidnapped earlier in the evening and forced to take a
part in the wild revels.
In the Batthyany Palace there was no evidence of the food shortage.
No one seeing the nightly feasts which took place would have
suspected that in Hungary people were starving for lack of
nourishment, that women sold their souls to keep homes going. The
best of everything was served up to the four hundred odd Terror Boys
and the commissaries, with their wives and mistresses. "The
Commune!" One day in the future dictionaries will print another
definition of the word. Perhaps--"mine--thine." It will be
sufficient! The true Communist may rant of "share--share!" He can
afford to, he who has nothing to share!
Gunzi could readily conceive Bela Kun's dislike to being interrupted
after the business of the day was over. On his knee sat a young
girl, perhaps nineteen or twenty years of age. Her clothes were torn
in front from neck to waist, exposing here and there two snowy-white,
innocent breasts. Her dainty little face was suffused with terror;
her dilated eyes, her trembling lips were ample evidence that she was
in torment--and Gunzi saw that she was but one of many.
When he saw the detective Bela Kun glanced up with an ugly frown. "I
hear you have urgent news for me concerning the White Knight? What
is it? And listen, my friend, if it is not important----" He left
the threat unspoken.
Gunzi, who in his own way was not unpossessed of his share of
courage, smiled slightly. "Fear not, Comrade Bela Kun. My
information is more than urgent. It needs immediate attention.
"To-night I arrived in Budapest from Aszod and entered a tavern for a
glass of beer. There I came across a man, half-drunk, who rose to
his feet and told the company at large that an assistant commissary,
by name Apor, had been arrested to-day."
Bela Kun's eyes narrowed. "This grows interesting. I thought the
fact of Apor's arrest was secret. Go on."
"Next," continued Gunzi, "he told us the reason why. Apor had been
found corresponding with the Whites in Vienna." He looked at the
Dictator for confirmation, and the other nodded his head slightly.
"There was an uproar from his listeners, but this drunken fool had
not finished blurting out all his secrets. He told us all something
else. He said that Apor was also an emissary of the White Knight."
He stopped short. With a roar of rage Bela Kun rose to his feet in a
turmoil of excitement, throwing the girl to the floor, where she lay,
sobbing. Fiercely the Dictator peered into the face of the
detective, seeking to divert the direct stare of the other, but
Gunzi's glance did not waver.
"Satan! If that is true----"
His words rang queerly to the astute detective. "What do you mean,
comrade?" he asked hoarsely. "Did you not know that?"
"No, by God, I did not!"
"Then," said Gunzi quietly, "that proves my theory. The man who,
with a drink-loosened tongue, let me into all his secrets must have
been a member of the White Knight's gang." He smiled scornfully.
"That must have been good wine!"