It was with difficulty that he found the street upon which was located Amos Bartlett’s house and likewise the place where the merchant did business. It was usually a busy quarter, but now it was all but deserted. The streets were filled with rubbish and filth, and household effects were scattered everywhere. More than one house or store showed signs of the bombardment, in the way of great holes or falling walls; and at certain points the very roadway was ploughed up. At last the young lieutenant stood before Amos Bartlett’s warehouse, a low, rambling affair of wood. It seemed to be locked up; and he was about to go on to the house beyond, when a cry in an English voice arrested him. “Let those goods alone! They belong to me, and you shall not touch them!” The voice was high-pitched and trembling, as if that of an elderly man, and appeared to come from the rear of the warehouse. Curious to know what was going on, Gilbert hurried to the rear, and here found an elderly American gentleman and three Russian soldiers. The Russian soldiers were trying to walk off with a big box of tea, and the elderly man was endeavoring to stop them. The foreigners were talking in their native tongue, and of course Gilbert could not understand a word of what was said. “What’s the trouble?” asked the young lieutenant. The brutal looks on the faces of the three Russians did not please him. “They wish to rob me of my tea, and I refuse to let them have it,” answered the elderly gentleman; and then, glancing at Gilbert’s uniform, he added, “Are you an American officer?” “I am.” “Then let me tell you that I am an American citizen. These are my own private goods, and I place myself under your protection.” Gilbert was startled, and naturally; for he immediately felt the delicacy of his position. Yet it was not in him to shirk his duty; and, facing the three Russians, he ordered them to drop the box they had picked up. At once all three began to talk at a rapid rate, every word being utterly unintelligible to the young lieutenant. All he could do was to point to the box with his sword and then point to the floor. But the Russians either did not or would not understand, and they started for the door with their burden. But Gilbert was not to be circumvented; and, rushing to the doorway, he placed himself in the very centre of it, holding his sword straight in front of him. “Can you speak Russian?” he asked of the elderly man. “Just a little.” “Then tell them that you have placed the goods in care of the American soldiers.” As well as he was able, the elderly man did as requested. At once the Russians began to answer, speaking as rapidly as before. “They say they have orders from one of their officers to take the tea,” said the elderly man. “But I don’t believe them. Some of those Russians have stolen my tea before this. They are all great drinkers of tea, you know.”