ng finished his bread and milk, deftly directed the
conversation to the possibilities of Dukla Pass from the Russian point
of view as a means of invasion of the Hungarian plain, and it was soon
quite clear that this possibility had not been absent from their minds.
Renwick praised the effectiveness of the Austrian army which he had
seen, and quickly reassured them. For Dukla Pass, as he had heard, was
but a slit in the mountains, which the Austrians could easily defend. A
few guns upon the rocks, and a million Cossacks could not break through.

It was encouraging, the man put in in his patois, for they had been
greatly disturbed by rumors among the country-folk and many soldiers
already had passed through.

"It is a place of historical interest," said Renwick easily, "a
_Schloss_ or two perhaps."

"Javorina--Jaegerhorn, yes--but mere ruins, long ago the property of the
Rakoczi family. And Szolnok----" Here the man paused, glanced at the
girl and the woman, and they both made the sign of the cross with their
forefingers at their breasts.

In the slight period of embarrassment which followed, Renwick regarded
them with a new interest. The old crone at the fireside, who had been
leaning forward with a hand cupped at her ear, caught the significance
of the gesture and solemnly imitated them.

"Ah, I remember now," said Renwick with an air of seriousness which
matched their own. "Was it not at Szolnok that Baron Neudeck was
killed?"

The old man glanced at the others before speaking.

"Yes. It was there," he said quietly.

"And the place is no longer occupied?" asked the Englishman.

No one replied.

"There is a mystery attached to Schloss Szolnok?" asked Renwick,
lighting his pipe.

"He asks if there is a mystery," said the woman dully. And then followed
as before the strange ceremony of the cross.

"I am a stranger in these parts," Renwick went on, "and no mischief
maker. This story interests me. I should like to know----" He paused
again as the old man leaned forward toward him, and laid his skinny
forefinger along Renwick's knee.

"It is the abode of the devil," he whispered, and then crossed himself
again.

"Ah--something mysterious----"

"It is not a matter which we talk about in this house. We are poor,
hard-working people who fear God. But strange things are happening up
yonder night after night. Here in the valley, we no longer go near by
day--nor even look."

"Ah, I see. Then the place has lon