encircled his body and his lance-cap tied his hands behind him so tightly that the skin was in several places broken.

With a dexterity that spoke of long practice, they then searched him, taking his watch and every scrap of any value which he possessed. The cross which the Russian count had given him, after the battle of the Alma, Jack had ever since worn suspended round his neck under his jacket, thinking if ever he lived to return to England it would be a souvenir to give his mother. The Cossack who ripped this from Jack’s neck uttered a guttural exclamation, and showed it to his companions, whereupon they all began talking at once, one holding up the order in front of Jack as though asking where he got it from.

‘I suppose that’s what you mean, you ugly brutes,’ said Jack; ‘but I can’t make you understand any more than you can make me. If I were only again on poor Dainty’s back with a lance in my hand I’d make you sing another tune, some of you.’

The Cossacks did not, of course, understand one word of Jack’s speech; but something seemed to annoy them, and two or three of them, taking the whips which every Cossack carries at his saddle-bow, fell to and lashed Jack cruelly about the head and body.

‘You cowardly dogs!’ cried Jack between his clenched teeth, ‘you cowardly dogs! if ever I get a chance I’ll make you pay for this!’

Tired of using their whips, a Cossack fastened one end of his picket-rope round Jack’s neck, while he secured the other end to his saddle, then, having taken the saddle off the dead horse, the others mounted, and at a smart trot started off, Jack having as much as he could do to keep up with his brutal captors.

CHAPTER XL.

A FRIEND IN NEED.

For another half-mile they went forward. Then Jack, thoroughly dead-beat, feeling that death was preferable to the indignities he was suffering, threw himself on the ground, and in spite of blows with whips and lance-butts, of kicks and vituperation, doggedly refused to move. One man brought the point of his lance once or twice close to Jack’s breast, and seemed very much inclined to make an end of him; and indeed he would have done so had not he who had taken Jack’s cross, and who seemed to be in charge, positively forbidden it, ending up by dismounting and with the help of another Cossack putting Jack on his own pony, when at a walking pace they proceeded about another mile.

They then arrived at an outpost and joined the main body of Cossacks, several of whom came and stared at Jack. Some conversation took place between his captors and the others, after which the picket-rope was tied to a stunted tree. Some distance away the patrol had a great fire made under the sheltering wall of a deserted cottage; round this fire the Cossacks off duty gathered, eating some black bread and onions, and drinking vodka. Nothing was given to Jack, who, wet through and deadly cold, lay shivering where he had been literally thrown.

Presently a couple of horsemen approached the post, upon which the Cossacks got up and saluted. The new-comers were evidently officers, and the man who had taken Jack’s cross handed it to one of them, talking volubly all the while. A minute later Jack’s rope was untied from the tree, and he was dragged before the Cossack officer.

Recognition was mutual, and Jack saw he had before him the man of the Tartar village and the man with whom Linham had been engaged on the day of Balaclava. The fellow scowled most ferociously at Jack; then holding up the cross, talked at a great rate, winding up by striking Jack in the face with his open palm.

Exasperated beyond all measure at the brutal treatment he had received, Jack, whose hands were still tied, kicked out and caught the Cossack captain on the shin. The fellow gave an angry exclamation, and drawing a pistol, presented it at Jack’s chest and pulled the trigger. Only a click followed, and the Cossack, looking at his weapon and finding it was not loaded, hurled it at Jack’s head.

The second officer, speaking in French, drawled, ‘Don’t make a scene, Kirchoff.’

Jack looked at this second man. He was a tall, handsome, but sinister-looking fellow, with fair hair and moustache. He was dressed in a Hussar uniform all crimson, elaborately laced with gold. A dark-green fur-lined cloak, fastened at the neck with a gold clasp, hung down to his spurred heels, while a black busby with a tall green plume adorned his head. His uniform was almost new, and he looked a great dandy. He was smoking a choice cigarette, and as he daintily knocked off the ash Jack noticed that several rings glittered on his long white fingers.

Hearing him speak French, Jack burst out in an indignant tone. ‘I am a British soldier, captured bearing arms, and I demand the same treatment from you that we extend to Russian prisoners of war! I have been treated worse than a dog or a spy!’

The crimson Hussar shrugged his shoulders as though the matter were of no importance to him.

‘You are Captain Kirchoff’s prisoner, not mine,’ he said, stirring the fire with the end of his sword-scabbard.

The Cossack captain, whose name appeared to be Kirchoff, jabbered for a few moments at Jack in Russian; then two troopers seized him and again bound him to his tree. Some black bread and onions and some raw spirit were, however, given to him, and, one of his hands being freed, he ate heartily.

Kirchoff and the Hussar, mounting, rode off, and as they passed Jack the latter said to the Cossack, ‘You might as well hang the poor devil at once as let him be frozen to death.’

And during that terrible night such seemed likely to be Jack’s fate. In the biting blast his threadbare clothes froze on his body, while the snow fell and half-covered him. He ached to the very bones, and had he been left where he was the whole night must of a certainty have been frozen to death. The men who had captured Jack, though, had to go out to relieve their companions. These on their return stamped round the blazing fire for a minute; then, seeming more humane than their comrades, they undid Jack’s bonds, tying only his legs, and bringing him near to the blazing fire, laid him down, covering him with a sheepskin. One man gave him a drink of vodka, and the fiery spirit, though it made Jack cough and splutter, probably saved his life.

Sometimes dozing, sometimes half-delirious, Jack passed the hours till dawn. The picket was again relieved, and the same men who had captured Jack were again enjoying an off-duty spell.

The Cossacks prepared breakfast, which they disposed of, and lit their pipes, offering Jack nothing. He was wondering how long he would have to endure his present treatment, when the galloping of horses was heard. Several men dashed up to the fire, and one, dismounting, made straight for Jack, bending down and looking in his face. He gave way to an exclamation of annoyance, then said a few words in haughty tones.

The Cossacks, who on his approach had sprung to their feet and uncovered, instantly cut Jack’s bonds.

‘My friend! my preserver!’ cried the young officer in French, taking both Jack’s hands as he was lifted to his feet; ‘to think you should have been treated thus!’

Jack, who felt half-dazed, and whose legs were terribly cramped, would have fallen to the ground, but the officer caught him in his arms.

‘Courage! courage!’ he said; ‘you shall soon be more comfortable, and these dogs who have dared to use a British soldier thus shall smart for it.’

Jack stared dully at him.

‘Do you not recognise me?’ asked the young officer.

Jack shook his head, when the officer removed his cap and opening his cloak showed the white uniform beneath.

‘I am Count Pauloff, he whom you saved at the Alma,’ he said. ‘I gave you this,’ and he held up the cross which Kirchoff had taken away the night before.

‘I remember,’ said Jack.

‘You look ill; you have been badly used. My poor friend, tell me what has happened?’

‘I have been brutally used,’ said Jack; and he told the count what he had gone through.

The Russian’s handsome features grew dark with rage.

‘I will teach these scum a lesson for disgracing our country. Are the men here who captured you?’

Four of them who had beaten Jack with their whips and lance-butts stood by the fire, pale with fear, for though they could not understand French they seemed to guess at the impending storm.

Jack pointed them out. ‘Those fellows used their whips upon me,’ he said.

The count uttered a few words in a terrible voice, and one of the guilty Cossacks called two others to him. Then the count gave another curt order, six of his orderly Dragoons, big men in dark-green, with tall, red felt shakos, dismounted; the wretched Cossacks were seized and their upper garments stripped off them. The Dragoons, who seemed to enjoy the task, then taking some of the Cossacks’ whips, laid them about the men’s shoulders till they howled again with pain.

‘We need not wait to see this,’ said the count to Jack; ‘my men will carry out their task properly. Now, are you able to sit a horse?’

‘I think so,’ said Jack.

‘Then away.’

Jack was wrapped in the coat of one of the Dragoons, mounted on his horse, and they rode off at once for Sebastopol.

On the way the count told Jack how he came to know what had happened to him. He was one of Prince Mentschikoff’s aides-de-camp, he said, and he had been on duty at daybreak that morning. Captain Kirchoff, of the Black Sea Cossacks, had come in to make his report; but the Prince was engaged and he had to wait. He entered into conversation with Count Pauloff, and in a blustering, braggart fashion told a tale of having met several English cavalrymen, of having killed two and taken one prisoner. On his prisoner he had found a golden cross, which the English soldier had admitted having taken from a dead or wounded Russian officer on the field of Inkermann. Kirchoff had the man a prisoner, and was going to bring him into Sebastopol when his men were relieved at noon that day.

Though personally disliking Captain Kirchoff, Count Pauloff had been interested in the tale, and when Kirchoff produced the cross in proof of his words had taken it in his hands to examine it. To his intense surprise he had then recognised his own cross, which he had given to Jack on the day of the Alma. He had immediately taxed Kirchoff with falsehood; but the man had persisted, though with evident signs of confusion.

Count Pauloff had then demanded to be instantly informed where the prisoner was; and the count, taking the cross and mounting a dozen Dragoons, galloped off, finding Jack as described.

‘And now I must settle with Captain Kirchoff,’ said the count sternly. ‘A thief of a Cossack must not lie with impunity to a hereditary nobleman.’

Entering Sebastopol, they made for the military prison, where it was necessary for Jack’s name, regiment, and other particulars to be entered on the prison books. While this was being done Count Pauloff sent an orderly to find Captain Kirchoff and bring him at once to the prison.

Meanwhile the count had armed himself with a Russian artillery driver’s whip, a terrible-looking weapon.

Jack was still undergoing his examination when Captain Kirchoff appeared in the large room in which they all were. The count immediately strode up, addressed rapidly some words to him, and then, without further parley, held him by the collar while he unmercifully lashed him with the whip.

Jack, who for some time had been feeling more and more ill, took but little notice of the occurrence; and when, tired of thrashing Kirchoff, the count turned towards him his voice sounded far away.

‘Friend,’ he said, ‘come with me; I will now see that your wants are looked after.’

Jack had some dim idea of being led away, supported by gentle hands; then he grew drowsy and thought he fell asleep, when all became dark and dreamy.

CHAPTER XLI.

THE CHÂTEAU PAULOFF.

Next it was broad daylight, with a wintry sun shining through the curtains, and Jack awoke to realise that he really was in bed in a strange place, and that he felt as weak as a baby. He tried to sit up and get out of bed; but, utterly unable to do so, he fell back with a deep groan. Then there sounded a rustle of garments, and a stout, kind-faced woman, dressed like a nun, wearing a crucifix on her bosom and beads round her waist, got up from a chair by the bedside, uttered kind, soothing words in a tongue Jack guessed was Russian, smoothed his pillows, and gently laid him back upon them.

Then Jack remembered more—he had been taken prisoner by Cossacks. Count Pauloff had found him and taken him to the prison at Sebastopol. Well, Russian prisons were splendid places thought Jack, looking round him, and their attendants were more than kind.

Then some warm milk, flavoured with something very nice, was given him; the good nun gently bathed his face and hands, and Jack wanted to talk. He tried his kind nurse with French and English; but she only smiled gently and shook her head. And so Jack lay quietly thinking until he happened to catch sight of his own hand and arm. Heavens! it was only skin and bone; in one day he seemed to have turned into a skeleton!

This gave him fresh food for thought, and his mystification was growing deeper when his nurse murmured something, among which Jack thought he caught the name Irma, when a soft footstep approached the bed and a young girl of exceeding beauty, gladness beaming from her eyes, took Jack’s hand, saying softly in French, ‘Good-morning, monsieur, welcome back to life! It has been a hard struggle, but you have conquered.’

The features of the young girl did not seem altogether strange, though Jack could not for the moment recollect where he had seen them before. Something of his uncertainty must have showed in his face, for the girl continued, ‘You are wondering where you are, how you got here, and who I am?’

‘I confess, mademoiselle, I am puzzled. At first I thought I was in the prison at Sebastopol; but’—— and Jack looked round him.

The girl laughed gaily. ‘You think more of where you are than of anything else,’ she said. ‘Well, you are in the house of Count Pauloff; he brought you here from Sebastopol.’

‘Ha! now I know who you are. You must be the count’s sister; you are so much alike, yet so much more handsome’—— Then Jack checked himself and blushed; but Irma, for such was her name, seemed by no means displeased.

‘I am the count’s sister,’ she said.

‘I saw you at the Alma.’

‘Ah that dreadful day, when poor Alexis was wounded and would have been slain but for you!’ and Irma covered her face with her hands as though to shut out some disagreeable vision.

‘The count told me yesterday’—— began Jack.

‘Yesterday?’ interrogated Irma with a smile.

‘I mean, as we rode into Sebastopol from the picket who captured me.’

Irma opened her eyes very wide; then they suddenly dimmed, as though with tears.

‘Alas! monsieur,’ she said, ‘that is two weeks ago to-morrow.’

Jack looked and felt horrified. ‘And I have been here all that time?’ he said.

Irma nodded her head.

Jack looked at his thin arms. ‘That accounts for these then,’ he said, and sank back wearily.

‘Monsieur,’ said Irma, ‘you have been very, very ill; we long despaired of saving your life. We have watched you day and night. You have been delirious all the time, and talking, oh, so much! till our hearts ached for you. We could not understand one word you said; but we thought you called always for mother—mother.’ She pronounced it ‘mauzher.’ ‘Tell me, who is “mauzher”?’

Jack smiled and explained that it must have been his mother he raved of.

Irma smiled, and said artlessly, ‘Ah, I am glad! After some days the doctor said you would live; but you had to be kept very quiet, and now here you are. The fever has left you, and all you have to do is to get strong again.’

Jack thought for some time, then he said, ‘How did I get here?’

‘You fainted right away in the hospital in Sebastopol, and then grew delirious. The doctors there said you must die; but Alexis had you wrapped in blankets, and, borrowing a carriage, drove you here, and—we have nursed you.’

‘How can I ever repay you?’

‘Hush, do we not owe to you the life of Alexis?’

The nurse then came forward and spoke gently to Irma, who smilingly said to Jack, ‘Sister Katrin says I must not talk to you any more now; but I shall come back presently. I sit some hours by your bedside every day.’

And later on she came back with her mother, the countess, a tall, stately, white-haired lady. In the evening came the young Count Alexis, who was overjoyed that Jack was at last on the highroad to recovery.

‘Where are we now?’ asked Jack presently.

‘In my house,’ smiled the count.

‘But where is that?’

‘Near Teberti, on the Katcha, fifteen miles from Sebastopol.’

Having once turned the corner, Jack began rapidly to improve, and in a week was able to sit up for an hour or two, wrapped in a costly dressing-gown and wearing slippers of the count’s.

What on earth he was going to do for clothes puzzled him, for it would be impossible for him to wear the mud-and-blood-stained rags he had been captured in.

‘Perhaps they will send me off to Sebastopol,’ he thought; ‘then it will not matter.’

But Count Pauloff had no idea of sending Jack to Sebastopol; and a day or two later he settled the clothes question in a very simple manner.

‘I’ve got my uniform as a cadet at the Military College,’ he said; ‘it will just about fit you.’ And he went away, presently returning with a handsome dark-green uniform trimmed with silver lace, with cap, boots, belts, all complete; and when Jack was dressed he looked a handsome figure in the Russian uniform.

‘If I only had my hair cut!’ he said with a laugh.

‘That we will soon settle;’ and, touching the bell, the count bade the servant request his valet to attend.

That obsequious gentleman was a Frenchman, and on his appearance the count bade him cut Jack’s hair.

He insisted then on taking Jack to the drawing-room, where he was received by the countess and Irma with the utmost cordiality and quite on terms of equality.

That evening was the beginning of several happy weeks for Jack, who felt himself growing daily stronger.

Waited on hand, foot, and finger, treated as a dear friend or relative by the count’s family, and living on the choicest fare, who could fail to be happy, especially after the experiences Jack had passed through during the last twelve months?

It became apparent at once to Jack that the countess idolised her daughter, and that all the servants did the same. Irma was a self-willed and imperious young lady, and governed everybody except the count, who, however, seldom thwarted any wish of hers, for brother and sister were devotedly attached to one another.

Now Irma and Jack spent the greater part of every day in each other’s society, and it would have been evident to any one less modest than was Jack that the young Russian lady had a warm regard for the English soldier.

As they wandered about the summer mansion of the Pauloffs, where the family stayed on so as to be near Alexis, by adroit questioning Irma got from Jack the whole of his history; not that Jack wanted much coaxing, as it proved a convenient topic on which to talk.

The mansion had very extensive grounds, which were surrounded by a high wall in which were several gates, one opening out into the forest, which on one side came right down to the walls. In this forest, Irma and Jack had many a gallop on horseback, an exercise in which, on one or two occasions when he was able to snatch a day’s leave, they were joined by the count. Always, however, whether he accompanied them or not, a sort of retainer of the family, a head servant named Sergius, rode behind them.

Sergius was devoted to his young master and to Irma. For Jack he seemed to have a genuine regard; but, like the true Russian domestic, he never betrayed his feelings either one way or the other. It was a noticeable fact, though, that whenever he rode abroad with Jack he carried both sword and pistols, not that Jack, despite his longing to be again with his comrades in the field, ever thought of repaying the kindness he had received from the Pauloffs by trying to escape from their custody.

In the evenings they had cards or music, and Jack, being a very fair performer on the pianoforte, played duets with Irma or sang some of the songs which had been popular in England before the war. Then there were lessons from Irma in Russian and lessons from Jack in English, so that time passed like a dream.

But Jack knew the life of idleness and luxury he was leading would unfit him for those duties which he would have to perform when he got back to the regiment; and, spite of the terrible sufferings which he heard the others were undergoing, he wished he were back again among them, sharing the danger and the glory. Once or twice he had led up to this subject with Count Pauloff; but the latter had always adroitly turned the conversation.

A few days after his last attempt, a dinner-party was given at the château, and the young count brought several officers from Sebastopol. Among others was a Hussar in a magnificent crimson uniform, having a dark-green pelisse richly laced with gold. The count, in introducing Jack, alluded to him as ‘My cousin, Colonel Vladimir Sominoff.’

Jack immediately recognised him as the Hussar who had been with Kirchoff on the night he had been captured; but Sominoff, hardly giving Jack a glance, just nodded slightly and passed him by. Jack was relieved to think he had not been recognised; but presently he heard Count Pauloff relating how Jack had saved his life at the Alma, how later he had been captured by Kirchoff, and how the count had rescued him.

Then Colonel Sominoff favoured Jack with a long, cold stare.

During the evening Sominoff paid Irma very great attention. She, however, received his advances with great coolness. The handsome Hussar stroked his moustache and pretended not to notice this treatment; but there was a look in his eye that Jack did not like, and later on in the evening, when Irma seated herself on a divan in one corner of the room with him, and told him who all the people were, he glanced up to see Colonel Sominoff regarding him with a look that quite made him start.

Seeing Colonel Sominoff glaring at Jack, Irma said, ‘Oh, that’s my cousin Vladimir; he pesters me to death with his odious attentions, but I hate him. Alexis says he is careful to keep as far from danger as he can, which means he is a coward, and I am sure he is a bully as well, in spite of his cat-like manners.’

After that Colonel Vladimir Sominoff was a frequent visitor at the château, and he kept by Irma’s side all the while he was in the house. Jack he simply ignored, never addressing a word to him, and treating him as if he did not exist. Sometimes the count came with the colonel, but more often the latter came alone.

On one occasion the colonel and the count came to spend a few days at the mansion, and Jack determined to keep in the apartments which he occupied. This, however, Irma did not let him do.

‘Why do you shut yourself up here?’ she cried with a little stamp of her foot, while her dark eyes shone angrily.

‘I—I do not wish to intrude,’ said Jack rather lamely.

‘Intrude, intrude! who has dared say you intrude?’ she cried fiercely. ‘If any of the servants’—— and her eyes blazed ominously.

‘No one has said a word,’ interrupted Jack hastily; ‘but your brother and your cousin are here. You are quite a little family circle, and—and’——

‘And what? Have we neglected you? Have we slighted you?’

‘No, a thousand times no,’ said Jack; ‘but can you not understand? You are of the aristocracy. I am a plain English soldier; I cannot mix on an equality with you, and it is better that I should not. This life is unfitting me for my career. I shall never forget your kindness; but the longer I remain here the harder I shall find it when I go. At any moment I may be taken off to prison’——

‘You won’t,’ cried Irma. ‘Alexis has promised me that you shall not be taken from here if he can help it; and he can help it—he shall. He is a friend of Prince Mentschikoff.’

‘Then I must return to my duty, and before long I hope.’

At this point Irma burst into a flood of tears. ‘You are unkind; you are ungrateful!’ she sobbed. ‘We have done all we could for you, and you repay us by saying you hope you will soon go.’

Irma’s tears were more than Jack could bear. He felt he was making a muddle of things. Ungrateful! Why, if he lived a hundred years he would never forget their kindness!

He stepped to the angry girl and laid one hand on her arm.

‘Countess,’[7] he said, ‘you do not understand. It is duty calls me, not inclination. I am a soldier and’——

The door was suddenly flung violently open, and Vladimir Sominoff rushed in. ‘So, dog, scum!’ he hissed, ‘you dare to lay finger on a daughter of the house of Pauloff;’ and he struck at Jack.

Irma, however, threw herself in front of him. ‘Touch him if you dare!’ she cried, her eyes blazing like those of a tigress.

Sominoff choked back his rage and gave vent to a mocking laugh. ‘Stand aside,’ he said, seizing her by the wrist, ‘the countess shall talk to you. I will settle with this clod.’

‘Coward, you hurt me!’ she cried in cutting tones; ‘but it is only what one might expect from a man who would leave a helpless prisoner to be frozen to death on a winter’s night.’

This allusion to Jack maddened Sominoff. He must have squeezed her wrist, for she screamed out. Next moment, however, the gaudily uniformed Hussar was sprawling on the floor, dashed there by a blow from Jack’s fist.

With a hoarse cry he leapt to his feet, and tearing his sword from the scabbard rushed on Jack. The latter snatched up a chair and stood facing the infuriated Russian.

‘Leave us, countess,’ Jack said; ‘I think I can give this feather-bed dandy a lesson in swordsmanship that will lower his pride.’

CHAPTER XLII.

TREACHERY AT WORK.

Jack dropped into a chair. ‘By Jove!’ he muttered, ‘here’s a pretty kettle of fish. I’m sorry for the count. It would have been better if Miss Irma had left me to my own devices. As for that popinjay Sominoff, I’d like to make him stand up before me for ten minutes with bare fists!’

Late that night old Sergius, with a perfectly imperturbable air, appeared and asked Jack if there was anything he required before he retired to rest.

Jack replied that there was nothing; but bade him carry his respectful salutation to the count and countess and the Lady Irma.

Without moving a muscle of his face, Sergius retired, and Jack could not help thinking that the old man, at his master’s bidding, would as calmly cut a guest’s throat as offer him a glass of wine.

In the morning the count appeared. At first he seemed much annoyed, and talked coldly on various subjects.

Jack, who felt very sorry for him, treated him with the utmost courtesy, and presently the count referred to the occurrence of the afternoon before.

Jack expressed his regret at the affair, and said how distasteful it was to him to be mixed up in what was really a family squabble.

‘The fact is,’ said the count, ‘Vladimir has taken it into his head to be madly jealous of you.’

‘My dear count, is it not absurd for him to be jealous of a plain English sergeant of Lancers. Has he such a poor opinion of the daughter of one of the oldest families in Russia?’

The count looked keenly at Jack.

‘The worst of it is,’ he said, rather shamefacedly, ‘my sister is young and very impressionable. She met you under somewhat romantic circumstances on the day of the Alma; then you came here at the point of death, and she pitied you. You are really a gentleman, though you choose to serve in the ranks of your army. You two have been thrown much together, and’——

‘My dear count, it is time I went. I will not stay here to embarrass you. Send me at once to Sebastopol.’

‘That I will never do,’ cried the count vehemently, ‘if only to thwart Vladimir; and, besides, Irma will not hear of it. I have tried to get you exchanged; but, unfortunately, you are—er’——

‘Not an officer,’ said Jack, finishing the sentence.

‘Exactly, and for some reason Prince Mentschikoff is obdurate. I fear Vladimir, who possesses much influence with him, has been using it against you. I will, however, see what I can do for you to-day. Meanwhile it would be better if you kept to the house, or at least the grounds. I—er—forgot to mention that I have pledged my word for your safe custody.’

Jack understood the delicately inferred hint. ‘Do not fear, count, that I could ever think of repaying your kindness by escaping,’ he said.

‘And I implore you not to attempt it. The whole country swarms with our men, and capture would be certain. Then it would be Siberia for you, even if nothing worse happened.’

When the count had departed a servant came to Jack’s room with a message, saying that the countess desired to see him. He at once went, and found Irma and her mother together.

The elder lady greeted him kindly, the younger with marked cordiality. Soon Irma carried Jack off to the grounds, and they were at once on their old familiar footing, as though the scene with Vladimir had never occurred. During the morning Irma said, ‘When this terrible war is over, why don’t you exchange into the Russian service?’

Jack stared at her in surprise. ‘Why on earth should I?’ he asked.

‘Why not? Alexis tells me we have many Englishmen and Scotsmen in our army and navy. They have all risen to high commands. So would you; you are clever, you are brave, you are a gentleman. You say in your army you can never hope to be an officer. Why not join ours? Alexis is your friend, he has great influence, he would do anything for me. In a few years you might be a colonel, a General. Who knows?’

Jack paused and gazed at his companion in astonishment. ‘I—I’—— he began. ‘It is impossible.’

‘Why?’

Jack’s position was getting awkward. He heartily wished himself back amongst the mud and filth of Balaclava, amongst the wretchedness and dangers of the camp. Though this imperious young beauty could not be a day older than Jack, he felt like a baby in her hands.

‘It would be impossible for me to do as you suggest,’ he said lamely. ‘In the English army we join for a number of years, and I have yet ten to serve.’

‘But money can buy your liberation, can it not?’

‘Yes, but I have none,’ said Jack desperately, thinking he had at last scored a point.

‘No matter,’ continued Irma with a merry laugh; ‘Alexis has plenty. Not a word, it is settled. Now for my English lesson.’

The day passed most pleasantly. The count did not return that night.

Next morning Irma and Jack were in the music-room, when outside they heard a good deal of noise. They looked out of the window, and to their surprise saw a party of Cossacks who had ridden in. Captain Kirchoff, the officer in command, was talking to Sergius, who appeared to be arguing with him, when the captain called to a trooper, who struck Sergius with the butt-end of his lance, knocking him down. The officer then spurred past, and, dismounting, entered the house.

Irma’s face grew scarlet with passion, her aristocratic blood boiled. ‘By my father’s soul!’ she cried, ‘the presumptuous dog shall learn he cannot lay a hand on a servant of our house on our domain. His shoulders shall feel the knout when Alexis hears of this!’

‘Let us go and see what is amiss,’ said Jack quietly, who with a sinking heart guessed what had brought the Cossacks there.

A servant came hurrying forward toward Jack and Irma. ‘An officer from Sebastopol wishes to see the young excellency at once,’ he said, bowing.

‘“His excellency” has no particular wish to see him,’ thought Jack to himself; but he was going forward when Irma caught his arm.

‘Wait,’ she commanded. ‘I will go. This must be some messenger from Alexis.’

‘If so, I will send you word,’ said Jack; and went on after the servant.

Loud voices were heard from below, and as they descended the stair Jack recognised Captain Kirchoff’s voice. Though he did not know enough Russian to understand all that was said, he was able to distinguish the words ‘Prisoner—Mentschikoff—peril—authority’——

He found the countess, tall and dignified, confronting Kirchoff, who held a paper in his hand. Behind Kirchoff were half-a-dozen Cossacks.

‘Monsieur Blair,’ said the countess, ‘this officer, a most rude person, states that he has orders to take you at once to Perekop.’

‘I am ready to go this moment, countess,’ said Jack.

‘But I refuse to allow it,’ said the countess. ‘My son would never have consented to this step. I am told it is by Prince Mentschikoff’s orders; but he would not go directly against the wishes of Alexis, who sends me no word.’

‘Take no notice of this man,’ said Irma to Jack; ‘I will order him to go at once.’ And she spoke angrily to him in Russian.

Kirchoff gave an ugly scowl; then said a few words to his men, and they immediately advanced and seized Jack, who made no resistance.

Irma, with a cry half of rage, half of fear, advanced to interfere between Jack and the soldiers; but Kirchoff, with a rude laugh, caught her by the wrists and held her despite her cries. Sergius, however, who had evidently been watching the scene, sprang forward, and with one strong, straight blow, felled Kirchoff to the ground. Other servants, all armed, appeared, and for a moment it seemed as if a fight must ensue. Jack’s captors, however, closed around him, and with Irma’s cries still ringing in his ears he was dragged away a prisoner, Kirchoff following behind, cursing loudly and volubly.

CHAPTER XLIII.

A DREARY MARCH.

Jack was then left alone, and, seating himself on a bundle of filthy straw in one corner, he reviewed his situation, which seemed pretty hopeless. That Sominoff was at the bottom of the affair he felt convinced; but he could not understand how he had prevailed over the count, who would, he felt assured, have done all he could for him.

As it got dark, swarms of rats came out from innumerable holes, running over Jack’s feet and trying to claw up his legs. He had to walk about to keep these noxious vermin off him. He had an instinctive dread of rats, and shouted aloud both to frighten them away and to call the attention of his captors. No notice, however, was taken of his cries, and in sheer desperation he banged upon the door and tried to open it. To his intense surprise it yielded and opened, and, stepping out, he found himself in the passage. All was dark, and he went gently along, feeling his way with his hands.

Presently a gust of cold air blew upon his face, and he came to another door, which was also open. He stepped out into the moonlight just as several men threw themselves upon him. Filled with a horrible dread of going back to the noisome den he had just escaped from, Jack struggled fiercely, and the men seemed to release their hold of him as by common consent.

Then there was a dazzling flash in front of him, a loud report, and a ball whizzed by him. It missed him by a hair’s-breadth; but a scream from behind told that some one had been hit.

In an instant, several men with lanterns appeared upon the scene, just as Jack was again seized. Among the new-comers was Kirchoff and a Cossack with a carbine in his hand. Just behind Jack was a Cossack lying on the ground, and one of his comrades stooping over him pronounced him dead.

‘Clumsy fool!’ cried Kirchoff furiously to the man with the carbine, ‘you have shot Ivan and the prisoner is unhurt.’

Jack was dragged back to his prison, where he was punched, thumped, struck with the butt-end of whips, and cruelly kicked, being left insensible at last on the slimy, filthy floor. He revived presently to find that swarms of rats were running over his hands and face, when, aching in every limb and feeling ready to die, he crawled to the heap of straw, and there, amidst the rats, vermin, and innumerable slimy, creeping things, he passed the night.

The following morning the journey was continued, and on the second night they had reached Perekop which was if anything more dirty than Simpheropol. After their arrival Jack saw no more of Kirchoff and his Cossacks, a party of Dragoons taking charge of him. From Perekop they went on, marching leisurely, Jack being well treated. Near the Sea of Azov they passed the Putrid Sea, a stinking, sickening, dreadful place, the very picture of desolation.

For a week they proceeded through a cold, bleak, inhospitable country, lodging each night at prisons which varied only in their degrees of filthiness. At last they arrived at Meritipol, and there Jack was lodged in prison, and saw no more of his escort of Dragoons. The days passed drearily until at last a whole troop of French prisoners of war arrived. Many of them were confined in the same large apartment with Jack, and from them he was able to learn something of the state of affairs before Sebastopol.

The French soldiers had made the whole journey from Sebastopol on foot and were worn out with fatigue. Their boots were in shreds; many of them were sick and ill, and all of them were in a very despondent state. When Jack spoke to them in their native language, and told them he was an English prisoner of war, several of them embraced him and wept copiously. Poor fellows, most of them were conscripts, and their hearts were not in their profession. The prisoners mostly belonged to the 22nd of the line; but there were some Zouaves, who seemed of sterner mould, and two Chasseurs d’Afrique.

These latter, when they found out Jack was one of the Light Brigade heroes, insisted upon kissing him on both cheeks and declaring everlasting friendship. One, who was a sous-officier, spoke English, and was very fond of airing his knowledge. Talking of the charge, he declared it was the finest thing the world had seen.

‘But, mon ami,’ he said, ‘it was foolish—oh, so ver foolish; and if it had not been for the 4th Chasseurs d’Afrique, hélas! you poor English—pouf, you would no more any of you remain alive.’

From this man, whose name was Alphonse Bluet, Jack heard of the arrival of reinforcements, the progress of the siege, and the succession of Pelissier the ‘Man of Iron’ to the command of the French. He also learnt that the whole of the prisoners were on their way to some place farther north, where numbers of both French and English soldiers were already in confinement.

The French prisoners were in too exhausted a condition to march farther for the present, so a long halt was made at Meritipol. Their treatment was strict, but not rigorous, and about a fortnight passed away when they were joined by a fresh batch of prisoners, and when they were brought in Jack was both pained and pleased to hear sturdy English voices. The men were mostly fresh from England, belonging to the infantry of the line, and with one or two sailors had been captured during a Russian sortie.

There was a marked difference in the demeanour of the French and English. The latter were far more cheerful; and, though prisoners, plainly showed their guards they would stand no nonsense. They were consequently treated with a great deal more consideration by the Russians, many of the latter showing a disposition to be quite friendly.

One morning the prisoners were told that next day their march inland would be resumed. Every man was served out with a pair of thick socks and rough boots and a sheepskin coat. Added to that was an overcoat with a large yellow diamond on the back, and in the morning they started. The escort was of infantry, and their journey was to be on foot. The prisoners were informed they would be allowed thirty copecks[8] a day. On this they were to provide for themselves.

The weather was cold but fine, and in pretty good spirits the whole convoy started. They had a long march that day, and in the afternoon entered a town. The drummer of the escort beat his drum as they marched in, and the inhabitants turned out to see the prisoners; but their demeanour was not unfriendly. Under escort the prisoners were marched to the market-place, where they made their purchases, after which they were conducted to the prison, where they cooked their food, often passing the evening quite merrily.

Ekaterinoslav was reached, and here two days’ halt was made; then on again, day after day, week after week, through Kharkov and Starai-Oskoe, always north, sometimes through pleasant country, sometimes through bleak and flat and wild regions.

The French were not treated so well as the English, the Russians seeming for some reason to dislike them personally. At Starai-Oskoe the French were left behind, their destination being different from that of the English.

Alphonse Bluet parted with Jack most reluctantly, indulging freely in tears. ‘Farewell, mon ami!’ he cried; ‘I feel we shall never meet again. The bones of Alphonse Bluet will whiten in this barbarous Russia; he will never see the boulevards of his dear Paris again. But no matter. Ever he will remember his brave comrade Monsieur Blair de Balaclava.’

‘Cheer up, Alphonse,’ said Jack, ‘we shall meet again when we have licked the Russians and peace is declared.’

‘Licked? How do you mean? Je ne comprends pas.’ But a Russian sergeant at that moment, taking him by the nape of the neck, gently intimated that it was time he joined his companions, and with a look of supreme disdain at his captor and a wave of the hand to Jack, he was hurried away.

There were still some weeks of tramping before Jack and his companions. As they got farther north discipline was much relaxed, and they became quite friendly with their guards, especially when they stood treat to them out of their thirty copecks, which they were easily able to do.

At many of their halting-places the ladies of the town visited them, giving them presents of warm clothing, food, and so on. Several times they came across English and Scotch people who had settled in Russia, and then they had a royal time.

At last, at the end of what had been a really fine day, the captain of the escort pointed to the burnished copper domes of a large town before them, and said, ‘Men, that is Voronesh, the end of your journey.’

He spoke in Russian, but by that time most of the men could understand what was said in that language, and Jack spoke it fairly well.

Night had fallen ere they reached the town and were marched up to the market-place. They were then conducted to the different large buildings which served as prisons; and Jack, with about a dozen others, was taken to a stone building which had once served as a corn warehouse.

Rather tired, he was making his way with the others to the large common living-room when a familiar voice struck upon his ear.

‘Ha, hum! it’s all very well to talk about the usages of civilised warfare; but who is going to say these Russians are civilised? If they’d been going to exchange us, tell me why they shouldn’t have done it months ago? Why shouldn’t we have been kept in Sebastopol—eh, you toads? Now tell me; I want to know?’

Before any one had time to make an answer Jack had darted into the room, and, seizing both hands of the speaker, was crying, ‘Jimmy, dear old Jimmy Linham, it was worth tramping all these hundreds of miles to find you alive and well! We’ve mourned you as dead in the old regiment for many and many a day.’

CHAPTER XLIV.

THE RESCUE.

‘Perhaps so, and there are several more cavalrymen here who went down in the charge—Dryden of the 11th Hussars, who had thirty-six wounds when he was found on the field by the Russians; Cooper of the 13th, who had twenty-five; and Duke, same regiment, eighteen. We’ve several of the 8th, three of the 4th, and two 17th men, Stephenson and O’Lavery, besides myself. But not one of these but what was most severely wounded. Nearly a dozen of our fellows were taken from the field alive; but as far as I’ve heard we three are the only survivors, except two officers, who, I believe, were Cornets Leland and Sir William Lennox. While I was in hospital, a Russian who could speak English told me they had buried over forty men who had the “death’s head” on their appointments, and showed me several buttons he had cut off their uniforms.’

‘It was a terrible day, Jim,’ said Jack. ‘There were only thirty-four of us who came out of the charge. But tell me your own adventures?’

‘They’re soon told. You remember, after you rallied the handful of ours and some of the 8th we charged? Well, I cut my way through that and the second lot, when you remember the Russian brutes opened on us and their own men from their field-guns.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then it was that a piece of shell brought down my horse, and I was a bit stunned by the fall. Presently I freed myself, just as several Polish Lancers came at me. One I cut from his saddle, and was tackling the others when another splinter of shell shattered my sword. One of the Russians then drew a pistol and shot at me, the ball passing through my arm. A Dragoon came up and cut me over the head with his sword and I went down; but before I lost consciousness some more Lancers went by and dug at me on the ground, piercing my left leg, my body, and my wounded arm. I remembered no more till I was being carried off the field at night, when I went in hospital with seven wounds. I had nothing to complain of there, and in due course I was packed off with a batch of other prisoners and brought here. Now you know all about me. What of yourself, of the regiment, and all our comrades?’

‘Alas! there are few left,’ said Jack; and he told Linham the names of the survivors.

Of Inkermann, of the great hurricane, and something of the cruel sufferings of the badly clad, half-starved heroes dying by hundreds of exposure, overwork, cholera, and sheer starvation, Linham had already heard from the most recent batch of prisoners, and Jack told him how things had been at the end of the year.

‘What a Government, what bungling, what murder! Yet in spite of all, our gallant fellows never complain; they just work till they die, and the few who survive will get a medal worth half-a-crown, and the right to die in the workhouse—ha, hum!’

Several other men then came in from another room, and amongst them were those few survivors of the light cavalry charge whom Linham had spoken of.

These few cavalrymen kept much together. Amongst them was the trumpet-major of the 4th Light Dragoons, and an enormous trooper named Parkes, standing six feet three. The trumpet-major of the 4th and Linham were looked upon as the leaders of the little society, who all welcomed Jack most heartily.

Poor fellows! several of them were so disfigured and maimed by their wounds that their soldiering days were over for ever. With the exception of Linham, too, they were dressed in all sorts of nondescript rags—old sheepskin coats, Russian tunics, native wool trousers, and boots of every description. Here and there might be seen a tattered remnant of uniform, showing that, in spite of the long hair and great beards, the wearers had once been soldiers.

Linham, however, still wore the remains of his uniform. How he had managed it was a mystery to all; but there he was, patched and darned truly, but still in uniform, even to his stock, which he had refused to abandon when everybody else had thrown theirs away with joy. He had bought from a Russian a flat-topped, white-banded forage-cap, and was brushed and pipe-clayed and shaved till he looked much like the Linham of old.

The next day it was arranged that the new-comers should be entertained at a feast; and, as most of the men had a number of copecks saved out of their daily dole, provisions on a lavish scale were bought, and quite a merry evening was spent, cards and dominoes, and after that songs and anecdotes, helping to pass the time pleasantly.

On this occasion Linham so far unbent as to sing; in harsh, unmusical tones, the only song he was ever known to attempt: