The officer who had escorted the two aboard approached.
“Have them confined in irons,” was the command.
“But,” protested Lord Hastings, “regardless of our nationality, we came here under a flag of truce.”
“Spies in British uniforms,” said the Russian sternly. “You will leave here under the Russian flag and in irons.”
CHAPTER XVII.
PETROGRAD.
Lord Hastings stepped close to the Russian commander.
“You will interfere with us at your peril,” he said quietly. “We are all that we represent ourselves to be, as you could plainly see if you were not so thick headed.”
“What!” exclaimed the Russian. “You insult me? Take them away.”
“One moment,” said Lord Hastings, raising a hand. “First it would be well if you were to allow me to inform the officer in command of my submarine what has happened, for when we fail to go back, he is likely to believe that you are a German and sink you.”
“We escaped your torpedoes before, we can do it again,” said the Russian.