again the word of a Government, and that has been broken already.

"That settles it," said the colonel, with a gasp. "He's not a
sergeant. What in the world is he?"

The entire mess echoed the word, and the volley of questions would
have scared any man. It was no wonder that the ragged, filthy
invader could only smile and shake his head.

From under the table, calm and smiling, rose Dirkovitch, who had
been roused from healthful slumber by feet upon his body. By the
side of the man he rose, and the man shrieked and grovelled. It
was a horrible sight, coming so swiftly upon the pride and glory
of the toast that had brought the strayed wits together.

Dirkovitch made no offer to raise him, but little Mildred heaved
him up in an instant. It is not good that a gentleman who can
answer to the Queen's toast should lie at the feet of a subaltern
of Cossacks.

The hasty action tore the wretch's upper clothing nearly to the
waist, and his body was seamed with dry black scars. There is only
one weapon in the world that cuts in parallel lines, and it is
neither the cane nor the cat. Dirkovitch saw the marks, and the
pupils of his eyes dilated. Also his face changed. He said
something that sounded like Shto ve takete, and the man fawning
answered, Chetyre.

"What's that?" said everybody together.