"That's a fancy looking bunch," whispered Billy; "I guess they are something extra. And—say, Buddy, if my eyes don't deceive me that fellow in the middle, the one with the bushiest beard, is no other than the boss of the crowd who shoved us in the cellar over in Galicia!"
"Cracky, what a pair of eyes you've got, old scout, and sure it's the very same, though he doesn't look as rusty as he did then."
Henri seemed to be fascinated by the discovery, and watched like a hawk every movement of the old enemy in the new garb.
About that time the Cossack happened to cast a glance in the direction of the spot where the boys were stationed, and two pairs of eyes met in a single flash. In the fierce orbs, and under the beetling eyebrows of the knight of the mountains and deserts, the flash plainly conveyed a puzzled expression. Henri lowered his look. This risk of recognition was more than he intended his bid to bring.
Turning away, the boy sought to show his indifference of the now strained situation. He managed to get an aside to Billy, in effect:
"I'm afraid I've put my foot in it now."
With the reappearance of Marovitch and Salisky, Henri, in subdued tone, requested information regarding their brilliantly attired neighbors.
"Why," responded Marovitch, "they are of the personal escort of the Czar."
"Good-night," thought Henri, "it's a fix we are into, and less than two hours in the town."
"How far did you say it was to the Malinkoff palace?" he suddenly asked.