"It may, or it may not be so. Where death is certain, a man cares not what he risks. If I can speak to Banfi this evening, you may be able to escape the same night. If I succeed, well. If not, we shall be no worse off than we are now."
"The fellow speaks boldly. Do as thou dost desire. I'll trust thee. Allah alone reads the secrets of the heart. Go!"
Zülfikar laid down his arms, and went all alone down to the narrow pass leading to Kalota. When he came to the Hungarian outposts, his eyes fell upon rows of dead Turks who had been hung up on the trees along the wayside. This sight did not appear to disturb the renegade in the least. He stepped boldly among the Magyars, and as they seized him, said quickly to them in the purest Hungarian—
"Bring me to Denis Banfi. I am his spy!"
"You lie!" cried they. "Sling him up."
"I can prove it," continued Zülfikar, with a loud voice, and taking a neatly-folded parchment out of his turban, he handed it to the captain.
The letter contained these words—
"I, Gregory Söter, hereby declare to all the commanders of the Hungarian troops that Zülfikar, the bearer of this letter, is my faithful war-spy. Let him pass free everywhere."
The captain gave back the letter, not without grumbling, and bade two of his soldiers lead Zülfikar to Banfi, but they were to cut him down at once if the general did not acknowledge him. However, at the first glance Banfi recognized in him Pongracz, Balassa's former servant, and motioned to his men to leave them alone together.
"So you have turned Turk?" said Banfi.