“I am a British officer!” went on McKay, stoutly.  He was not to be browbeaten or abashed.

“Where is your uniform?”

“Here!” replied McKay, throwing open the greggo, which he still wore, and showing the red waistcoat beneath, and the black breeches with their broad red stripe.

“You said he was a civilian in Tartar disguise,” said the general,—­for such was the officer’s rank,—­turning to one of his staff and seeming rather staggered at McKay’s announcement.  He spoke in Russian.

“Take care, Excellency; the prisoner speaks Russian.”

“Is that so?” said the general to McKay.  “An unusual accomplishment that, in English officers, I expect.”

“Yes, I am acquainted with Russian,” said McKay.  Why should he deny it?  They had heard him use that language at the time of his capture.

“How and when did you learn it?”

“I do not choose to say.  What can that matter?”

Again the staff-officer interposed and whispered something in the general’s ear.

“Of course; I had forgotten.”  Then, turning to McKay, he went on:  “What is your name?”

“McKay.”

“Your Christian names in full?”

“Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay.”

“Exactly.  Stanislas Alexandrovich McKay.  I knew your father when he was a captain in the Polish Lancers; was he not?”

“I cannot deny it.”

“He was a Russian, in the service of our holy Czar, and you, his son, are a Russian too.”

“It is false!  I am an Englishman.  I have never yielded allegiance to the Czar.”

“You will find it hard to evade your responsibility.  It is not to be put on or off like a coat.  You were born a Russian subject, and a Russian subject you remain!”

“I bear a commission in the army of the British Queen.  I dare you to treat me as a Russian now!”

“We will treat you as we find you, Mr. McKay:  as an interloper disguised for an improper purpose within our lines.”

“What shall you do with me?” asked McKay, in a firm voice, but with a sinking heart.

“Hang you like a dog to the nearest tree.  Or, stay! out of respect for your father, whom I knew, and if you prefer it, you shall be shot.”

“I am in your power.  But I warn you that, if you execute me, the merciless act will be remembered throughout Europe as an eternal disgrace to the Russian arms.”

This bold speech was not without its effect.  The general consulted with his staff, and a rather animated discussion followed, at the end of which he said—­

“I am not to be deterred by any such threats:  still, it will be better to refer your case to my superiors.  I shall send you into Sebastopol, to be dealt with as Prince Gortschakoff may think fit, only do not expect more at his hands than at mine.  Rope or rifle—­one of them will be your fate.  See he is sent off, Colonel Golopine, will you?  And now take him away.”