Sutch remembered very clearly the fatal wavering glance which the big soldier had thrown backward toward his companions,--a glance accompanied by a queer sickly smile.

He remembered too, with equal vividness, its consequence.

For though the soldier carried a loaded musket and a bayonet locked to the muzzle, he had without an effort of self-defence received the Cossack's lance-thrust in his throat.
Sutch glanced hurriedly about the table, afraid that General Feversham, or that some one of his guests, should have remarked the same look and the same smile upon Harry's face.

But no one had eyes for the lad; each visitor was waiting too eagerly for an opportunity to tell a story of his own.

Sutch drew a breath of relief and turned to Harry.