Both uttered exclamations of intense surprise, and both asked questions at the same moment.
“How came you here, dear?” asked Falconer eagerly. “Why, the police are hunting for you everywhere.”
“I know,” exclaimed a big, thick-set man who had followed the girl into the room, and was grinning evilly. “And the police will never find either of you.”
“Who are you—and what do you mean?” Geoffrey demanded quickly.
“I mean what I say!” was the man’s defiant reply.
“I have met you somewhere before,” remarked Falconer much puzzled, while the girl, who seemed half dead with fright, clung to her lover’s arm.
“Yes,” was the fellow’s response; “we met at the Castle of Zenta, in Hungary, where not only did you escape, but you were the means of sending our brave leader, Franz Haynald, and Koblitz and Françoise to prison. I have come from Hungary in order to carry out what has been decided in consequence.”
“And what is that, pray?” inquired Falconer.
“We succeeded in bringing your fiancée here so that you may both share the same fate—death!” he said in a low, hard voice, his eyes full of the fierce fire of vengeance.
“Stand aside!” shouted Geoffrey. “Let us pass!”