"But the Doc—"
"Show him in, Max."
Lieutenant Colonel Bela Kossuth was solicitous. He clicked heels, bowed from the waist, inquired of Joe's well being.
Joe wasn't feeling up to military amenities after his framed-up near demise of the day before. He growled, "I'd think you'd be wishing I occupied Captain Rákóczi's place, rather than offering me sympathy."
The Hungarian's eyebrows went up, and uninvited he took the chair next to the bed. "But why?"
"You were the man's second."
Kossuth was expansive. "When asked to act, I could hardly refuse a brother officer. Besides, my superiors suggested that I take the part. As you probably have ascertained, major, there is considerable doubt the desirability of you remaining in Budapest."
Joe was astonished. "You mean to sit there and deliberately admit the duel was a planned attempt to eliminate me?"
The colonel coolly looked about the room. "Why not, major? There is no one here to witness our conversation."
"And you admit that your precious Party, the ruling organ of this Proletarian Paradise of yours, actually orders what amounts of assassination?"