"I got this man to talk. He told me much; not all that I wanted, yet
sufficient to assure me that before the sun rises to-morrow Apor will
have been rescued."
"Impossible! Apor is imprisoned in the cells beneath Parliament
House."
The detective shrugged his shoulders. "Yet it is all planned. The
White Knight has a letter from you, an order to release an unnamed
prisoner----"
He was interrupted by a hoarse growl of rage from the Dictator: "The
Devil! He speaks the truth. Some time back I wrote one out. It
disappeared. How did he get that?" Light dawned in his mind.
"Apor!"
Gunzi nodded. "You see, comrade, I do not exaggerate. That much I
discovered, but that was all. Not only will the White Knight rely
upon that letter, but he has some other plan up his sleeve. What it
is I cannot tell. If you wish to keep Apor prisoner you must act
now--immediately."
"You are right." Bela Kun's face worked with the rage which consumed
him, but presently his face calmed, and slowly a smile--a grin of
wile and cunning--spread across his features.
"I think," he said, chuckling, "that for once the White Knight is
going to fail. Before the sun rises to-morrow morning Apor will be
dead."
"You mean...?" Gunzi raised his forehead inquiringly.
"I mean that I shall telephone immediately to Parliament House. In
less than ten minutes' time a few trusty Red guards will convey Apor
to the Suspension Bridge and drop him into the Danube, bound hand and
foot, that the rat shall not struggle. Do you not think that a good
scheme?"
"It is the only one," agreed Gunzi admiringly.
_CHAPTER XIV_
Two men crouched back deep in the shadows of Parliament House,
tensely waiting, waiting with a nervousness neither could conceal.
"Arnold, the time goes slowly. I feel damnably afraid. Supposing my
plan should miscarry, supposing I have failed to elucidate the
intricate workings of Bela Kun's twisted mind, I shall have signed
Apor's death-warrant just as if I had passed judgment on him myself."
"You can do no more, Geoffrey, than what you have done. In any event
Apor would die."
"Never have I perpetrated such a thin, feeble plot, Arnold. It has
so many weak links. When Gunzi passes on the news to Bela Kun, the
Dictator may refuse to credit Gunzi's story; on the other hand, he
may be so enraged that he will telephone through to have the poor
fellow bayoneted right away. Or, if Apor is to be flung into the
Danube, he may do it from Parliament House, and all we shall hear
will be a splash and--and Apor will be no more." His voice broke
slightly.
"That--that, I am afraid, is your weakest link, Geoffrey."
"No, you are wrong there, Arnold, and it is upon my estimation of the
ingrained cruelty of the Red guards that I have staked the success of
my plans. To you or me it would be an easy matter to dispose of--of
Apor. A blow on the head, and over the balustrade into the river.
Nothing could be more quiet, more secretive.
"Such a programme fails to satisfy the Communists. It is too quick
and too easy a death, so they drag their victims to one of the
bridges. That takes time--every yard progressed is a mental,
poignant stab for the unfortunate prisoner. Every step is punctuated
with a thrust from a rifle butt or the prick of a bayonet. Fine
torture that, Arnold, and ... well, I hope to Heaven that they think
Apor worthy of it. Otherwise he is doomed and----"
Some one stumbled in the distance, and with a warning touch on
Arnold's arm Wenzel stopped short, and the two Englishmen waited,
hoping against hope that Bela Kun would fall into the trap. With
fierce eyes they watched the door from which the condemned prisoners
were led. Would it open?--would it open?
The streets were quiet and comparatively deserted. At night only the
Terror Boys, or slinking fugitives, ventured out, for there were
flying bullets, apt to hit the most innocent targets. At night the
Red guards were even more belligerent. Those who would live, or
remain unmolested, stayed indoors.
Thus the steps of the one whom Wenzel had heard in the distance
echoed loudly in the quietness, and the next instant the air
resounded with the notes of a jubilant song. In quavering tones,
hideously out of tune, punctuated with hilarious bursts of laughter,
the inebriated singer disturbed the peace, and the effect was the
more weird for its jarring contrast to the air of tragedy in which
Budapest was steeped night and day.
Suddenly Wenzel swore. Judging by the increasing clearness of the
wild sounds which the man uttered he was approaching Parliament
Square. The White Knight clenched his fist with a desperate
intensity. "May the Devil seize him, the drunken swine!" he
whispered. "If his visit here should coincide----"
The door which they watched was opening, formless shapes could dimly
be seen issuing from it, and the next moment Wenzel knew that up to
this point his plot was a success, for in the vague, uncertain light
of an adjacent street lamp he could distinguish Apor, handcuffed,
surrounded by three armed Red guards.
The moment the door was shut behind the group the time for action
would have arrived. Wenzel and Arnold gripped their revolvers by the
barrels, ready to bring them down upon the heads of the soldiers.
The drunkard came nearer, and Wenzel could have cried cut in agony.
Instead of proceeding with their ghastly business, the guards were
hesitating, looking curiously around. The Englishmen shrank closer
into the shadows. If they were seen...
For some reason the men seemed disinclined to slam the door, and
start.
"Hullo, comrade, what noise is that?" asked one.
The man to his right laughed slightly. "Some one who has failed to
heed Bela Kun's instructions as to prohibition. His row is enough to
awaken the dead. What say you, friends--shall we knock him across
the head with our rifles and teach him a lesson?"
"You are envious, you," exclaimed the third man. "Let us get this
job over. I feel sleepy."
"Yes, leave the poor devil alone. He is lucky to get it, that's what
I say."
The sanguinary one hesitated, and the damage was done. The group had
been seen. Steering an erratic course the drunken singer made toward
them.
"What ... matter...? What are you men doing here?"
Wenzel stiffened. The voice was reminiscent. He peered through the
darkness, but the newcomer had his back toward him.
"Move on, comrade, and mind your own business."
"Who you telling--mind my business? I am commissary--for me order
you about...."
"Hell!" The guard who had originally suggested doing what Wenzel
longed to do turned upon the drunken man with an angry air: "Don't
you talk like that, my friend. Get on, I say!" He stretched out an
arm and roughly pushed the other, so that the commissary stumbled and
nearly fell. By swinging round he saved himself, and then Wenzel saw
his face.
A wild sense of exhilaration bubbled up inside the White Knight. How
wrong to think that Fate was playing against him! How wrong, when it
was just the opposite! How it was that the man came there, what he
was doing in Budapest, Wenzel could not even imagine, but at that
moment nothing mattered, nothing except that after all he could keep
his oath to Elizabeth, for there, in front of him, was Comrade
Gonnard.
he gripped Arnold's arm convulsively, and with the slightest hiss
Terhune signified that he was prepared. Events were turning out more
propitious than either of them had dreamed. For a brief space the
Red guards were interested in disposing of Gonnard, and without being
aware of it their vigilance had lessened.
Once again Wenzel's fingers conveyed a message, and the next instant
two silent forms leaped from the shadows of Parliament House. There
were two sickening thuds, as two of the guards collapsed to the
ground with scarcely a moan.
The third man yelled with surprise. Hypnotized by the sudden attack,
his limbs refused to move until he saw three shadows advancing toward
him with an uncanny quietness.
His hand darted to his belt; even as he pulled out the heavy Army
revolver his fingers tightened on the trigger, and a stream of
bullets whipped through the air, the attendant flickering flashes of
light momentarily lighting up the drama with a ghastly clarity.
Almost before the guard's last shot had finished echoing
reverberatingly round the square it was challenged by two new
reports, and even while Apor whirled round and dropped, and Gonnard,
the third man, grunted and gently collapsed, the guard shrieked, and
then he too slumped to the ground, where he lay still and motionless.
Wenzel was conscious that one other shadow still remained upright.
"Who is it?" he asked hoarsely.
"I am untouched--and you, Geoffrey?"
"Safe--but I am afraid Apor is down."
It was Apor himself who answered: "Only a flesh wound in the arm,
Wenzel."
"Thank God! But now we must run like Hell. Quick, Arnold, help
Apor."
Already Apor was making an effort to stumble to his feet, but his
manacled hands made the task difficult. Arnold bent down and
practically lifted him to his feet.
"Away with you," Wenzel growled--his ear caught the sound of running
footsteps inside Parliament House--"they are coming."