He saw that the gipsy's words had conveyed no idle warning.

The man before him was none other than Benjamin Vajdar.
Yet the prisoner lost nothing of his composure, but with head erect and unflinching gaze faced his deadly enemy.
"Well, Manasseh Adorjan," began the other, "you asked to see me, and here I am.

Do you know me now ?" "You are called Diurbanu," replied Manasseh, coldly.
"And don't you know another name for me?
Don't I remind you of an old acquaintance ?" "To him whom you resemble, I have nothing to say.

I have come to you as to Diurbanu, I have placed in your hands the peace-treaty which your people made with my people, and I demand its observance." "To convince you that I am not merely Diurbanu, but also another, look here." With that he called one of the torch-bearers and held to the flame the paper he had received from Manasseh.
The latter shrugged his shoulders and blew a cloud of cigar-smoke.
"Do you understand now," continued Diurbanu, "that there is one man in the world who has sworn to march against Toroczko, treaty or no treaty, to leave not one stone on another in that town, and not one of its people alive to tell the story of its destruction?
My day has come at last--and Toroczko's night." The speaker's features took on at these words an expression more like that of a hyena than of a human being.
"Idle threats!" muttered Manasseh, scornfully, between his teeth.
"Idle threats, are they ?" retorted the other, striking the hilt of his sword and raising his head haughtily.

"You think, do you, that I am joking, and that I will take pity on you ?" "Oh, as for me, you may do what you please with me--torture me, kill me, if you choose.