First a shell burst in
the street close to him, and two bystanders were struck down by the
fragments; then another shell struck a house opposite, and covered the
neighbouring space with splinters large and small; next a round-shot
tore down the thoroughfare, carrying everything before it.
It was no safer inside than out. Yet McKay was glad when they marched
him in before the generals, who were seated at the open window of the
topmost look-out, scanning the besiegers' operations with their
telescopes.
"What is the meaning of this fire? Have you any idea?" It was Todleben
who asked the question. "Does it prelude a general attack?"
"I cannot tell you," replied McKay.
"Was there no talk in the enemy's lines of an expected assault?" asked
another.
"I do not know."
"You must know. You are on the headquarter-staff of the British army."
"Who told you so? You have always denied my claim to be treated as an
English officer."
"Because you are a traitor to your own country. But it is as I say. We
know as a fact that you belong to Lord Raglan's staff; how we know it
you need not ask."
The fact was, of course, made patent by the English
commander-in-chief, in his repeated attempts to secure McKay's
release and exchange. But the prisoner had been told nothing of these
efforts, or of the peremptory refusal that had met Lord Raglan's
demands.
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