A month before he had been at home in America, envied by the rest of his patrol because he was actually to go to far-off Russia by himself.

And since then he had been three times a prisoner, had been in danger of exile to Siberia, and just now had escaped by mere seconds meeting a blast of bullets from a German firing squad, a victim of a war that had not even been dreamed of when he had sailed from America! But there could be no real doubt of the truth as he followed Boris into the house.

In the dining-room where he had been sentenced to death, he came upon Lieutenant Ernst, chatting amiably with half a dozen Russian officers in their white coats.

The German grinned at him.
"You're in luck, youngster," he said.

"I'm not so sorry, really! They didn't get what they came after, you see." "No, worse luck!" said a Russian.