McKay."

"Exactly. Stanislas Alexandrovich McKay. I knew your father when he
was a captain in the Polish Lancers; was he not?"

"I cannot deny it."

"He was a Russian, in the service of our holy Czar, and you, his son,
are a Russian too."

"It is false! I am an Englishman. I have never yielded allegiance to
the Czar."

"You will find it hard to evade your responsibility. It is not to be
put on or off like a coat. You were born a Russian subject, and a
Russian subject you remain!"

"I bear a commission in the army of the British Queen. I dare you to
treat me as a Russian now!"

"We will treat you as we find you, Mr. McKay: as an interloper
disguised for an improper purpose within our lines."

"What shall you do with me?" asked McKay, in a firm voice, but with a
sinking heart.

"Hang you like a dog to the nearest tree. Or, stay! out of respect for
your father, whom I knew, and if you prefer it, you shall be shot."

"I am in your power. But I warn you that, if you execute me, the
merciless act will be remembered throughout Europe as an eternal
disgrace to the Russian arms."

This bold speech was not without its effect. The general consulted
with his staff, and a rather animated discussion followed, at the end
of which he said--

"I am not to be deterred by any such threats: still, it will be better
to refer your case to my superiors. I shall send you into Sebastopol,
to be dealt with as Prince Gortschakoff may think fit, only do not
expect more at his hands than at mine. Rope or rifle--one of them will
be your fate. See he is sent off, Colonel Golopine, will you? And now
take him away."

McKay was marched out of the marquee, still under the escort of
Cossacks. But outside he was presently handed over to a fresh party;
they brought up a shaggy pony--it might have been the fellow of the
one he had left behind the previous night--and curtly bade him mount.
When, with hands still tied, he scrambled with difficulty into his
saddle, they tied his legs together by a long rope under the pony's
belly, and, placing him in the centre of the escort, they started off
at a jog-trot in the direction of the town.

CHAPTER III.

A PURVEYOR OF NEWS.

Mr. Hobson gave his address at Duke Street, St. James's, a
lodging-house frequented by gentlemen from the neighbouring clubs. But
he was never there except asleep. There was nothing strange in this as
none of the occupants of the house were much there, except at