"Exactly! You were quite right, lieutenant. And now you may leave us!"

The lieutenant flushed at the rebuke, saluted stiffly, and left the
room.

Fred was alone with his uncle.

"You are brave, at least," said Mikail, presently. "That will, perhaps,
be a comfort to you later. Yet you were not well advised to serve the
Germans as a spy. They have not been able to save you from me this time,
you see. It is not a case this time of the station at Virballen, with
the superiority of numbers on their side for the moment."

"It is your Cossacks who saved me from the Germans," said Fred. "I have
been a spy--but it has been in the interest of Russia. General Alexander
Suvaroff and his son can tell you that."

"Perhaps," said Mikail, his eyes and mouth fixed, so that no one could
have guessed what was in his mind. "It is strange that you feel forced
to call upon those who cannot say anything for or against you--since
they are in the hands of the Germans."

Inspiration came suddenly to Fred, and he said nothing. He gave his
uncle stare for stare.

"Well, what have you to say?" said Mikail, at last. "What defence have
you, spy?"

Still Fred said nothing, and he saw the veins in Mikail's hands swelling
with anger.

"So?" he said, when he understood that Fred would not speak. "Well,
there will be a way to make you talk, doubtless. I might have you shot
now--or hung. But you are my nephew. You shall have the fairest of
trials, for it must not be said that I did not see that you were well
treated!" He chuckled ominously. Then he raised his voice. In answer to
his call two officers came in.

"You will be held personally responsible for this prisoner," he said.
"He is to be sent at once to Grodno for trial as a spy. I will dictate
the process accusing him. Let him be dispatched in the morning, under
heavy guard."

The officers saluted. Then soldiers were called and Fred was led away.
From the first he realized the utter hopelessness of any attempt to
escape. He was in the midst of a great army. He could not hope, no
matter what happened, to get more than a few yards in any direction. Yet
even the thought of his peril did not keep him awake. No sooner was he
put in the guard room, where half a dozen soldiers were with him, than
he sank into a heavy sleep. He was too tired, in fact, to realize to the
full how serious the matter was.

But in the morning, when he was roused to partake of a meal, the full
and dreadful peril