“And after that you dare to shew your face in Warsaw? Are you mad, boy?”
“There is no daring about it because there’s no risk. There was only one man who knew me in the affair—the police spy, Burski; and he has his own, right enough. He was playing spy at a meeting of the strikers on Tuesday night; and one of the men who was in the house at the place of St. John recognized him. He was a fellow of resource and iron nerve, and tried to brazen it out that he was a Fraternity man. But he failed.”
“You mean?”
“They lynched him then and there.”
“The infernal villains!”
“If it comes to that Bremenhof, who was buried to-day with full military honours, wasn’t much to boast of.”
“If you’re going to turn revolutionary you’d better get out of the city and be off home. Luck like yours won’t last, boy.”
“I’m going. I’ve done nothing except checkmate a scoundrel. Given the same circumstances, I’d try it again.”
He looked at me with a half whimsical smile. “Where is she, Bob?”
“Not so far from Warsaw as I hope she soon will be, General.”