Our hero was again marched into the yard, made to remount, re-bound, and led off towards the principal part of the town.  They now skirted the ridge of the Karabel suburb, and began to descend.  Half way down they came upon a series of excavations in the side of the hill.  These were old caves that had been enlarged and strengthened with timbers and earth.  Each had its own doorway, a massive piece of palisading.  They were used as barracks, casemated, and practically safe during the siege.  Into one of these McKay was taken; it was empty; the men who occupied it were on duty just then at the Creek Battery below.  In one corner lay a heap of straw and old blankets, filthy, and infested with the liveliest vermin.

One of the escort pointed to this uninviting bed, and told the prisoner he might rest himself there.  McKay, weary and disconsolate, gladly threw himself upon this loathsome couch.  They might shoot him next morning, but for the time at least he could forget all his cares in sleep.

CHAPTER VIII.

FROM THE DEAD.

We have seen how the news of Stanislas McKay’s capture by the Russians was communicated to his uncle, Mr. Faulks.

Next day the brief telegram announcing it was published in the morning papers, with many strong comments.  Although some blamed the young officer for his rashness, and others held Lord Raglan directly responsible for his loss, all agreed in execrating the vindictive cruelty of the uncompromising foe.

General sympathy was expressed for Mr. McKay; the most august person in the land sent a message of condolence to his mother through Lord Essendine, who added a few kindly words on his own account.

“What curse lies heavy on our line?  It seems fatal to come within reach of heirship to the family-honours.  Ere long there will be no Wilders left, and the title of Essendine will become extinct,” wrote the old peer to Mrs. McKay.  “Your boy, a fine, fearless young fellow, whom I neglected too long and who deserved a nobler fate, is the latest victim.  Pray Heaven he may yet escape!  I will strive hard to help him in his present dire peril.”

Lord Essendine was as good as his word.  He had great influence, political and diplomatic:  great friends in high place at every court in Europe.  Among others, the Russian ambassador at Vienna was under personal obligations to him of long standing, and did not hesitate when called upon to acknowledge the debt.

Telegrams came and went from London to Vienna, from Vienna to St. Petersburg, backwards and forwards day after day, yet nothing was effected by Lord Essendine’s anxious, energetic advocacy.  The Czar himself was appealed to, but the Autocrat of All the Russias would not deign to intervene.  He was inexorable.  The law military must take its course.  Stanislas McKay was a traitor and the son of a traitor; he had been actually taken red-handed in a new and still deeper treachery, and he must suffer for his crime.