On the day which was destined to be Jenő's last on earth, the following questions and answers passed from cell to cell.

"What news?"

"Death sentence."

"Who?"

"Baradlay."

"Which one?"

"The oldest."

Through Richard's cell, too, passed this cryptogram, and he asked again:

"First name?"

But the only reply he could elicit was a repetition of the above: "The oldest."