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I took off the slipper, took out of it a carefully folded piece of paper, unfolded it, and found an accurate map of our camp. On the margin were a number of notes written in a fine hand in the Jews’ language.

Meanwhile Siliavka had set Girshel on his legs. The Jew opened his eyes, saw me, and flung himself on his knees before me.

Without speaking, I showed him the paper.

‘What’s this?’

‘It’s—nothing, your honour. I was only….’ His voice broke.

‘Are you a spy?’

He did not understand me, muttered disconnected words, pressed my knees in terror….

‘Are you a spy?’

‘I!’ he cried faintly, and shook his head. ‘How could I? I never did; I’m not at all. It’s not possible; utterly impossible. I’m ready–I’ll–this minute–I’ve money to give… I’ll pay for it,’ he whispered, and closed his eyes.

The smoking-cap had slipped back on to his neck; his reddish hair was soaked with cold sweat, and hung in tails; his lips were blue, and working convulsively; his brows were contracted painfully; his face was drawn….

Soldiers came up round us. I had at first meant to give Girshel a good fright, and to tell Siliavka to hold his tongue, but now the affair had become public, and could not escape ‘the cognisance of the authorities.’

‘Take him to the general,’ I said to the sergeant.

‘Your honour, your honour!’ the Jew shrieked in a voice of despair. ‘I am not guilty… not guilty…. Tell him to let me go, tell him…’

‘His Excellency will decide about that,’ said Siliavka. ‘Come along.’

‘Your honour!’ the Jew shrieked after me–‘tell him! have mercy!’

His shriek tortured me; I hastened my pace. Our general was a man of German extraction, honest and good-hearted, but strict in his adherence to military discipline. I went into the little house that had been hastily put up for him, and in a few words explained the reason of my visit. I knew the severity of the military regulations, and so I did not even pronounce the word ‘spy,’ but tried to put the whole affair before him as something quite trifling and not worth attention. But, unhappily for Girshel, the general put doing his duty higher than pity.

‘You, young man,’ he said to me in his broken Russian, ‘inexperienced are. You in military matters yet inexperienced are. The matter, of which you to me reported have, is important, very important…. And where is this man who taken was? this Jew? where is he?’

I went out and told them to bring in the Jew. They brought in the Jew. The wretched creature could scarcely stand up.

‘Yes,’ pronounced the general, turning to me; ‘and where’s the plan which on this man found was?’

I handed him the paper. The general opened it, turned away again, screwed up his eyes, frowned….

‘This is most as-ton-ish-ing…’ he said slowly. ‘Who arrested him?’

‘I, your Excellency!’ Siliavka jerked out sharply.

‘Ah! good! good!… Well, my good man, what do you say in your defence?’

‘Your… your… your Excellency,’ stammered Girshel, ‘I… indeed,… your Excellency… I’m not guilty… your Excellency; ask his honour the officer…. I’m an agent, your Excellency, an honest agent.’

‘He ought to be cross-examined,’ the general murmured in an undertone, wagging his head gravely. ‘Come, how do you explain this, my friend?’ ‘I’m not guilty, your Excellency, I’m not guilty.’

‘That is not probable, however. You were–how is it said in Russian?–taken on the fact, that is, in the very facts!’

‘Hear me, your Excellency; I am not guilty.’

‘You drew the plan? you are a spy of the enemy?’

‘It wasn’t me!’ Girshel shrieked suddenly; ‘not I, your Excellency!’

The general looked at Siliavka.

‘Why, he’s raving, your Excellency. His honour the officer here took the plan out of his slipper.’

The general looked at me. I was obliged to nod assent.

‘You are a spy from the enemy, my good man….’

‘Not I… not I…’ whispered the distracted Jew.

‘You have the enemy with similar information before provided? Confess….’

‘How could I?’

‘You will not deceive me, my good man. Are you a spy?’