oden lantern. There was a crash--faces and swords
vanished. He struck a match, and by the light of it bolted for the door.
A second later he was in the street.

II

A voice said in English, "God bless you, brother!"

Swithin looked round, and saw the tall Hungarian holding out his hand.
He took it, thinking, 'What a fool I've been!' There was something in
the Hungarian's gesture which said, "You are worthy of me!"

It was annoying, but rather impressive. The man seemed even taller than
before; there was a cut on his cheek, the blood from which was trickling
down his beard. "You English!" he said. "I saw you stone Haynau--I saw
you cheer Kossuth. The free blood of your people cries out to us." He
looked at Swithin. "You are a big man, you have a big soul--and strong,
how you flung them down! Ha!" Swithin had an impulse to take to his
heels. "My name," said the Hungarian, "is Boleskey. You are my friend."
His English was good.

'Bulsh-kai-ee, Burlsh-kai-ee,' thought Swithin; 'what a devil of a
name!' "Mine," he said sulkily, "is Forsyte."

The Hungarian repeated it.

"You've had a nasty jab on the cheek," said Swithin; the sight of the
matted beard was making him feel sick. The Hungarian put his fingers
to his cheek, brought them away wet, stared at them, then with an
indifferent air gathered a wisp of his beard and crammed it against the
cut.

"Ugh!" said Swithin. "Here! Take my handkerchief!"

The Hungarian bowed. "Thank you!" he said; "I couldn't think of it!
Thank you a thousand times!"

"Take it!" growled Swithin; it seemed to him suddenly of the first
importance. He thrust the handkerchief into the Hungarian's hand, and
felt a pain in his arm. 'There!' he thought, 'I've strained a muscle.'

The Hungarian kept muttering, regardless of passers-by, "Swine! How
you threw them over! Two or three cracked heads, anyway--the cowardly
swine!"

"Look here!" said Swithin suddenly; "which is my way to the Goldene
Alp?"

The Hungarian replied, "But you are coming with me, for a glass of
wine?"

Swithin looked at the ground. 'Not if I know it!' he thought.

"Ah!" said the Hungarian with dignity, "you do not wish for my
friendship!"

'Touchy beggar!' thought Swithin. "Of course," he stammered, "if you put
it in that way--"

The Hungarian bowed, murmuring, "Forgive me!"

They had not gone a dozen steps before a youth, with a beardless face
and hollow cheeks, accosted them. "For the love of Christ, gen