lucky enough to be able do something for 'Holy Russia'."

Fred moved along quietly while he was thinking of the extraordinary
sequence of events that had brought him to where he now was, flashing
his light on the arrows, and looking for the double mark that would show
him he had reached the spot of which Boris had told him. But when he got
there he had no need of any sign, for he could hear voices distinctly on
the other side of a very thin wall. Boris was speaking.

"I'm so sorry, Herr Hauptmann," Boris was saying, in faultless German.
"I did see some of the peasants chivying a fellow down below. And I did
go out, of course, in my car, to see if I could help him. I got him away
from them. But he didn't come all the way back. He wanted to go on, and
it's not just the time I should choose for entertaining guests. So I
didn't urge him to stay."

"I'm sorry to seem to doubt your word. In fact, Prince, I don't," said a
rumbling voice, that of the German captain Boris had been addressing, as
Fred could guess. "But was this person you rescued so--chivalrously--an
Englishman?"

"I really don't know, Herr Hauptmann. He might have been. Or an
American. One or the other, I should think."

"Clever Boris!" thought Fred. "He'll tell him some truth and some
fiction! He has got to deceive him, of course--that's war."

"I have reason, Prince, to think that he was an English spy," the
captain went on. "You will allow my men to make a search? And, by the
way, I shall be sorry to take away your servants, but my orders are to