“Lithuanian, sir.”

The man thought for a moment, and then turned to his friend. “Who is there, Walters?” he asked. “There is Ostrinski⁠—but he is a Pole⁠—”

“Ostrinski speaks Lithuanian,” said the other.

“All right, then; would you mind seeing if he has gone yet?”

The other started away, and the speaker looked at Jurgis again. He had deep, black eyes, and a face full of gentleness and pain. “You must excuse me, comrade,” he said. “I am just tired out⁠—I have spoken every day for the last month. I will introduce you to someone who will be able to help you as well as I could⁠—”