id as the
other requested. A curious picture was revealed by the light which
issued from the open door.

Standing before the hut was a tall man with a long gray beard, clad in
a heavy cloak of the same colour, who held in his arms what looked more
like a bundle of furs than a human being.

"Who are you?" cried Browne in astonishment, for this tall, gaunt
individual of seventy was certainly not MacAndrew; "and what have you
got there?"

"I'll tell you everything in good time," replied the other in English.
"In the meantime just catch hold of this chap's feet, and help me to
carry him into the hut. I am not quite certain that he isn't done for."

Without asking any further questions, though he was dying to do so,
Browne complied with the other's request, and between them the two men
carried the bundle into the hut and placed it in a chair before the
fire.

"Brandy!" said MacAndrew laconically; and Browne immediately produced a
flask from a bag and unscrewed the lid. He poured a quantity of the
spirit into a cup, and then placed it to the sick man's lips, while
MacAndrew chafed his hands and removed his heavy boots.

"I have been expecting you for the last two days," Browne began, as
soon as they had time to speak to each other.

"It couldn't be managed," returned MacAndrew. "As it was I got away
sooner than I expected. The pursuit was so hot that we were compelled
to take to the woods, where, as ill-luck had it, we lost ourselves, and
have been wandering about for the last four days. It was quite by
chance that we reached here at all. I believe another day would have
seen the end of this fellow. He knocked up completely this morning."

As he spoke the individual in the chair opened his eyes and gazed about
him in a dazed fashion. Browne looked at him more carefully than he
had yet done, and found a short man with a small bullet head, half of
which was shaven, the remainder being covered with a ferocious crop of
red hair. Though he would probably not have confessed so much, he was
conscious of a feeling of intense disappointment, for, from what he had
heard from Katherine and Madame Bernstein, he had expected to see a
tall, aristocratic individual, who had suffered for a cause he believed
to be just, and whom sorrow had marked for her own. This man was
altogether different.

"Monsieur Petrovitch," said Browne in a tone, that might very well have
suggested that he was anxious to assure himself as to th