"
"Yes, I will go," the prisoner promised, joining his hands with a
gesture as if taking an oath; "and I would return this very night; you
shall have the exact numbers; shall know the road they are coming,
when to expect them--all."
"Let him loose, then," said the general; "but warn him, if he plays us
false, that he had better not fall into our clutches again."
"You may trust him not to do that, sir," said McKay, rather
discontented at seeing his prisoner so easily set free.
The general ignored the remark, but he was evidently displeased at its
tone, for he now turned sharply on McKay, saying--
"As regards you--how comes it you speak Russian?"
"I was born in Moscow."
"Of Russian parents?"
"My father was a Pole by birth, but by extraction a Scotchman."
"What is your name?"
"McKay--Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay."
"Ah! Stanislas; I understand that. But how is it you were christened
Wilders? And Anastasius, too--that is a family name, I think. Are you
related to Lord Essendine?--a Wilders, in fact?"
"Yes, sir, by my mother's side."
"And yet you have taken the Queen's shilling! Strange! But it is no
business of mine. Young scapegrace, I suppose--"
"My character is as good as--" "yours," McKay would have said, but
his reverence for the general's rank restrained him.
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