eals in the land, it was the custom of a few
messes to drink the Queen's toast in broken glass, to the vast
delight of the mess-contractors. The custom is now dead, because there
is nothing to break anything for, except now and 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_.

[Illustration: 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.--P. 94.]

'What's that?' said everybody together.

'His number. That is number four, you know,' Dirkovitch spoke very
thickly.

'What has a Queen's officer to do with a qualified number?' said the
Colonel, and an unpleasant growl ran round the table.

'How can I tell?' said the affable Oriental with a sweet smile. 'He is
a--how you have it?--escape--run-a-way, from over there.' He nodded
towards the darkness of the night.

'Speak to him if he'll answer you, and speak to him gently,' said
little Mildred, settling the man in a chair. It seemed most improper
to all present that Dirkovitch should sip brandy as he talked in
purring, spitting Russian to the creature who answered so feebly and
with such evident dread. But since Dirkovitch appeared to understand
no one said a word. All breathed heavily,