"News," replied the visitor, at length, laconically; "ten dollars."
McKay put the money in his hand and was told briefly--
McKay passed on this information to his chief, but rather doubtfully, declining to vouch for it, or say whence it had come.
It was felt, however, that no harm could be done in accepting the news as true and preparing for a Russian attack. The event proved the wisdom of this course. The sortie was made next night. A Russian column of considerable strength advanced some distance along the Woronzoff Road, but finding the English on the alert immediately retired.
The next piece of information that reached McKay from the same source, but by a different messenger, was more readily credited. He learnt this time that the Russians intended to establish a new kind of battery in front of the Karabel suburb.
The messenger, a hungry-looking Tartar who spoke broken English, but when encouraged explained himself freely in Russian, said--
"Big guns; they sink one end deep into the ground, the other point very high."
"I understand. They want to give great elevation, so as to increase the range."
"Yes, you see. They will reach right into your camp."
Again the information proved correct. Within a couple of days the camps of the Third and Fourth Divisions, hitherto deemed safe from the fire of the fortress, were disturbed by the whistling of round-shot in their midst. The fact was reported in due course to headquarters.
"You see, sir, it is just what I was told," said McKay to General Airey.
"Upon my word, you deserve great credit. You seem to have organised an intelligence department of your own, and, what is more to the purpose, your fellow seems always right."
McKay was greatly gratified at this encouragement, and eager to be still more useful. He visited the Maltese baker again, and urged him to continue supplying him with news.
"Trust to Joe. Wait one little bit; you know plenty more."
Several days passed, however, without any fresh news. Then a new messenger came, another Tartar, a very old man with a flowing grey beard, wearing a long caftan like a dressing-gown to his heels, and an enormous sheepskin cap that came far down over his eyes, and almost hid his face. He seemed very decrepit, and was excessively stupid, probably from old age. He looked terribly frightened when brought to McKay's tent, stooping his shoulders and hanging his head in the cowering, deprecating attitude of one who expects, but would not dare to ward off, a blow.