The old man began to wink his eyes suspiciously. “Does your grace wish to go to them?”
“I do not request you to ask, but to answer.”
“They say that one squadron is quartered in Shchuchyn,—that one which came here last from Jmud.”
“Who said so?”
“The men of the squadron themselves.”
“Who led it?”
“Pan Volodyovski.”
“That’s well. Call Soroka!”
The old man went out, and returned soon with the sergeant.
“Have the letters been found?” asked Kmita.