,
which brought them to the Karabel suburb, as it was called, a detached
part of the main town, now utterly wrecked and ruined by the
besiegers' fire.

The Cossack officer made his way to a large barrack occupying a
central elevated position, and dismounted at the principal doorway.

"Is it thou, Stoschberg?" cried a friend who came out to meet him.
"Here, in Sebastopol?"

"To my sorrow. Where is the general? I have news for him. The enemy
are moving in force upon the Tchernaya."

"Ha! is it so? And that has brought you here?"

"That, and the escort of yonder villain--a rascally spy, whom we
caught last night in our lines."

"Bring him along too; the general may wish to question him."

McKay was unbound, ordered to dismount, and then, still under escort,
was marched into the building. It was roofless, but an inner chamber
had been constructed--a cellar, so to speak--under the ground-floor,
with a roof of its own of rammed earth many feet thick, supported by
heavy beams. This was one of the famous casemates invented by
Todleben, impervious to shot and shell, and affording a safe shelter
to the troops.

McKay was halted at the door or aperture, across which hung a common
yellow rug. The officers passed in, and their voices, with others,
were heard in animated discussion, which lasted some minutes; then the
one called Stoschberg came out and fetched McKay.

He found himself in an underground apartment plainly but comfortably
furnished. In the centre, under a hanging lamp, was a large table
covered with maps and plans, and at the table sat a tall, handsome
man, still in the prime of life. He was dressed in the usual long
plain great-coat of coarse drab cloth, but he had shoulder-straps of
broad gold lace, and his flat muffin cap lying in front of him was
similarly ornamented. This personage, an officer of rank evidently,
looked up sharply, and addressed McKay in French.

"What is the meaning of this movement in the Tchernaya?" he asked.
"You understand French of course? People of your trade speak all
tongues."

"I speak French," replied McKay, "but English is my native tongue. I
am a British officer--"

"I have told you of his pretensions, Excellency," interposed the
Cossack officer.

"Yes, yes! this is mere waste of time. What is the meaning of this
movement in the Tchernaya, I repeat? Tell me, and I may save your
life."

"You have no right to ask me that question, and I decline to answer
it, whatever