shman!" he hissed. "You shall pay bitterly for
this insult. Ah, you are dressed now as an officer! You were a private
before. Your friend too has different uniform. You are spies--spies!"
he shrieked, with a hideous laugh. "Yes, the tale of the shipwreck is a
lie, and you two have been sent here to learn our plans. Take them
away. They shall be severely dealt with."

"Where to?" asked the jailer, who had looked on anxiously at the scene,
not knowing how to act.

"Fool! To the cells, of course," Stackanoff cried. "We have an empty
one. Place them there, and take this Frenchman too. He also is a spy;"
and he glared at poor Pierre as though he would kill him.

"What is it, monsieur?" the little man asked tremulously. "What are
they about to do to ze prisonaires?"

"He says we are spies," answered Phil.

"Ah, spies! He make ze lie. Pierre is no spy. But they will not
believe, and we shall all die!" The poor little man threw himself on
the floor and howled dismally.

"Come up, won't yer?" exclaimed Tony with disgust, clutching him by the
seat of his red breeches and hoisting him to his feet. "Ain't it enough
to know as you're to come along with us? Ain't that bad enough? Shout
when you're hurt, but till yer are hold yer tongue, or it'll be the
worse for yer."

Pierre wept softly, his narrow shoulders and baggy breeches shaking with
convulsive sobs. His chin was bowed upon his breast, and altogether the
unhappy little Frenchman looked the very picture of despair.

"Pshaw! At least the Englishmen have courage!" scowled Stackanoff
disdainfully. "Call the guard."

Half a dozen armed Russians marched in and surrounded the prisoners.
Then, followed by shouts of farewell and encouragement from their
comrades, the three prisoners were taken to the opposite side of the
town, close to the fortifications facing the British guns, which could
be heard booming in the distance, while an occasional shell passed
overhead.

"You see that," said Stackanoff maliciously, drawing Phil's attention to
a group of low buildings which in parts were tumbled into ruins. "The
cells are there, and perhaps a friendly message from your comrades on
the heights may find you out. It would be best for you, for no man has
yet insulted me and lived to boast of it."

Phil did not deign to answer, but, looking closely at the buildings,
noticed that they had indeed suffered heavily from the British fire.
Walls were lying flat,