168 A JACOBITE EXILE

“Of course—Lieutenant Carstairs. I was at the hunt
where you were taken prisoner; but I did not expect to
see you in this garb.”

“Iam going on duty,” Charlie said, “and am dressed
according to orders. Do not address me by my name. I
am at present Sandy Anderson, going to join a relation in
Warsaw.”

“Ah, ah! is that so? Going to put your head into the
den of the Lion Augustus. Well, I rather envy you, for it
is likely by all accounts to be dull work here for some
time. It is hard to be sitting idle while the Russian guns
are thundering round Narva. Now I must join the baron
again. Where would you rather ride—after us or behind
the escort?”

“Behind the escort. I think it will be more natural,
and I can chat more freely with my servant. He is a
Lithuanian, but speaks Swedish, and I hope to get some
information from him.”

The lieutenant rode on, and as he passed the troopers
he told them that the two men behind had the baron’s per-
mission to ride with them, in order that they might have
protection from the bands of pillagers who were roaming
through the country.

“Now, Stanislas,” Charlie said. “We can talk freely
together. Do you know Warsaw?”

“I have been there several times, sir, but I never stopped
there long. Still, I can find my way about the town.”

“When were you there last?”

“Some two months ago. It was just before I entered
the Swedish service.”

“And what do the people say about the war?”

“They are bitterly opposed to it. ‘The king entered
upon it without consulting the diet, which was altogether
contrary to the constitution. It is true that the king may
do so in cases of emergency, and obtain the sanction of