"Hie! my little brother! up! up!" cried the stranger, and tugged at the fellow's hair till he opened his eyes in terror.
"Well! what's the row? what do you want with me?"
"What do I want? I'll very soon let you know, you rascal, get up, I say!"
Ivan made no very great haste to obey.
The stranger wasted no more words upon him but began buffeting him right and left, till his head waggled on his shoulders.
Full of fury Ivan started up from his couch and fell upon his tormentor; but the latter, with serpentine agility, clutched the fellow's throat tightly with his right hand and pressed his head against the wall, while with his left he held a large pistol in front of his nose.
"You dare to move, you rogue, that's all, and I'll spread you out over the wall like a painted picture."
The lad was awed by the unexpected strength of that fist and the threatening proximity of the pistol.
"But, sir, what in heaven's name have I done?" he babbled. "Who are you, and what do you want of me?"
"Who am I, eh? I am a police-sergeant, you rascal. I am pursuing a deserter, whom you have concealed. Come, speak, what have you done with him?"