“No. I had intended to ask if you knew anything about him when the beginning of this carnage drove him and everything else out of my mind. Do you know where he is?”
“I saw him not five minutes since, looking wildly for you.”
While Petroff was speaking, Lancey appeared, running towards me, bloodstained, blackened with powder, and with a rifle on his shoulder.
Chapter Twenty One.
More of the Results of War.
I need not trouble the reader with an account of the meeting with my faithful servant. While we were still engaged in questioning each other, I noticed that the countenance of our friend the scout wore an anxious and almost impatient expression.
“Anything wrong, Dobri?” I inquired.
“God knows!” he replied in a solemn tone, which impressed me much. “A rumour has come that the Circassians or the Bashi-Bazouks—I know not which, but both are fiends and cowards—have been to Venilik, and—”