banging
of feet and shouts of laughter which characterize all festive gatherings
in Hungary.

Cautiously now Klara began to creep along the low wall which supported
the balustrade. Her feet made no noise in the soft, sandy earth, her
skirts clung closely to her limbs; at every minute sound she started and
paused, clinging yet closer to the shadow which enveloped her.

Now she came to the corner. There, just in front of her was the
pollarded acacia, behind which the murderer had cowered for an hour--on
the watch. The slowly withering leaves trembled in the breeze and their
soughing sounded eerie in the night, like the sighs of a departing soul.

Further on, some twenty paces away, was old Rezi's cottage. All was dark
and still in and around it. Klara had just a sufficient power of
consciousness left to note this fact with an involuntary little sigh of
relief. The murderer had done his work quickly and silently; his victim
had uttered no cry that would rouse the old gossip from her sleep.

When Klara at last rounded the second corner of the house and came in
full view of the unfenced yard in the rear, she saw that it was flooded
with moonlight. For a moment she closed her eyes, for already she had
perceived that a dark and compact mass lay on the ground within a few
feet of the back door. She wanted strength of purpose and a mighty
appeal to her will before she would dare to look again. When she
reopened her eyes, she saw that the mass lay absolutely still. She crept
forward with trembling limbs and knees that threatened to give way under
her at every moment.

Now she no longer thought of herself; there was but little fear of
anyone passing by this way and seeing her as she gradually crawled
nearer and nearer to that inert mass which lay there on the ground so
rigid and silent. Beyond the yard there were only maize-fields, and a
tall row of sunflowers closed the place in as with a wall. And not a
sound came from old Rezi's cottage.

Klara was quite close to that dark and inert thing at last; she put out
her hand and touched it. The man was lying on his face; just as he had
fallen, no doubt; with a superhuman effort she gathered up all her
strength and lifted those hunched-up shoulders from the ground. Then she
gave a smothered cry; the pallid face of Eros Bela was staring
sightlessly up at the moon.

Indeed, for the moment the poor girl felt as if she must go mad, as if
for ever and ever after this--waking or sle