anyone to enteryour Excellency's chamber unless you summon them."
"And have you seen any person here?"
"No one, Excellency."
"Will you swear to that, or shall I work the knout in order to bring outthe truth?" demanded the prince.
"I swear it by my religion."
"Down on your knees and swear!" thundered the prince, and the tremblingwretch obeyed like a true Russian slave.
"Return," added the tyrant, pointing the way, and the next instant hewas alone.
"Perdition catch me, but this is dreadful. What can have become of thatdocument?" he mused, as he threw himself into his chair. "Who could havetaken it? I have only one person about me who can read English, and heis not here to-day," and again he began searching for the fatal paper.
All to no purpose, though, of course, and he finally convinced himselfthat it was neither in his office nor about his person.
"Curses on my luck, for if that correspondence is found out, it meansdeath or Siberia to me. Could that American have regained it without myseeing him do it? Great Scott!" he suddenly exclaimed, and hurried tothe Bastile.
The possibility of Barnwell's having secured the document did not makethe prince's case any the better. Indeed, it was probably worse, for thecaptain of the Bastile may have searched him and secured it himself.
Such fears as these hurried him onward, until he reached the prisonwhere Barnwell was confined, and he instantly summoned the captain.
"The prisoner I sent here but now?"
"He is in a cell down below."
"Did you search him?"
"I did."
"What did you find?" he asked, anxiously.
"A passport, a quantity of money, some jewelry, and letters."
"Let me see the papers," and they were promptly shown to him. He lookedthem over eagerly, but there was no trace of the fatal document fromZobriski.
"Are these all you took from him?"
"All, Excellency."
"Who searched him?"
"One of the guards."
"Did you see him do it?"
"It was done under my own eyes."
"And you will swear that these comprise all the papers he had on hisperson?"
"I swear it, Excellency."
The prince was more confused at this than he was before, for if he hadnot taken it at the time of his arrest who could have done so?
He dared make no explanation to the jailer, for he knew him to be aloyal man, and one of the fiercest persecutors of the Nihilists in theCzar's official household. And yet he half believed that he had securedthe correspondence, and was withholding it for a purpose against him.
Finally he said:
"Conduct me to the prisoner's cell."
"This way, Excellency," and he led him to the stout and heavily-grateddoor.
"Now leave us," and the officer retired.
Prince Mastowix glanced up and down the dimly-lighted corridor to makesure that no one was in sight, and then he spoke.
"William Barnwell," and the young man quickly leaped to his feet andwent to the bars.
"Who is it?" he asked, eagerly.
"The man who sent you here."
"Then you are a rascal," replied Barnwell; and it was fortunate for thetyrant that he was protected by the iron grating, or he would have beenclutched by the throat.
"Careful, young man. I may have acted hastily in your case."
"Yes, and unjustly."
"Well, wrongs may be righted."
"Then let me out of this horrible dungeon."
"I will, on one condition."
"Name it."
"That you tell me whether you took that paper again which you brought mefrom New York."
"No, sir; I never saw it after I gave it to you," replied Barnwell. "Youheld it in your hand when I was dragged from your office."
The prince now remembered that this was true, and it made the mysteryeven greater than before.
He turned to go.
"But your promise?" said Barnwell.
"Bah!" was the only reply he received, and the next moment he was aloneagain.
A mocking laugh came from the opposite cell-door grating, and naturallythe abandoned youth looked in the direction.
But the face he saw between the bars was hideous enough to make hisblood almost curdle.
How old that face was, of what nationality, of what grade of intellect,he could not tell, for his face was in the shade of that dark place.
Again came the mocking laugh, as young Barnwell stood looking andwondering.
"Who are you?" he finally asked.
That laugh again, and Barnwell concluded that the person must be alunatic, although he could but shudder at the thought that he might havebeen driven to madness by the very same imprisonment which enshackledhim, and so turned away.
His own misery was quite enough for him, and just then he was in nohumor to listen to another's.
"Ha, ha, ha! So you are in the trap, eh?" asked the mysterious prisoner.
"What trap?" asked Barnwell.
"The rat-trap of the great Russian Empire."
"I don't know. Who are you?"
"Nobody; for the moment a person gets into the great political rat-traphe loses his identity, and is simply known by a number. I am NumberNineteen; you are Number Twenty."
"How do you know?"
"I can see the number of your cell, as you can, of course, see mine."
"What were you brought here for?"
"For fancying that I was a man, and that I had rights in the world. Iwas thrown into this dungeon--it must be three months ago--for throwingdown the horse of a nobleman who attempted to drive over me. I have hadno trial, and expect none. I am as dead to the world as it is to me. Iam simply Number Nineteen, and when this prison gets too full of thevictims of tyranny, I shall be hustled off to Siberia, to make room fornew victims."
"It is dreadful. But in my case I did nothing against the law. I simplybrought a letter from America to Prince Mastowix, and he at once threwme into this place."
"Ah! he is the same who threw me into this dungeon, because I resentedbeing run over."
"And for that you think you will be sent to Siberia?" asked Barnwell.
"I am sure of it."
"For so slight an offense?"
"Many a slighter one has consigned better men than I am to the mines ofSiberia for life. As for you, you have somehow offended the tyrant."
"I cannot understand how. I brought a letter to him from a man in NewYork."
"What man?"
"One Paul Zobriskie."
"Paul Zobriskie!" exclaimed the man, clutching the bars that grated thewindow of his door. "Do you know him?"
"No; I was simply on the point of sailing for Europe when he approachedand asked me to deliver a letter to Prince Mastowix. I did so, and youknow the rest."
"Paul Zobriskie is the greatest terror that Russian tyranny knows. He isa bugbear; but why should he be in correspondence with Prince Mastowix?"
"I know nothing about it."
"There is a mystery somewhere," mused the man.
"If there is, I know nothing about it."
"Were I at liberty, I would take pains to find out what this mysteryis."
"But how can they hold me?"
"By the right of might; just as they hold me. Once in their clutches,there is no escape. Even were you known to be innocent of any crime, itwould make no difference. The innocent and the guilty are treated alikein Russia. There is no liberty--no justice in the land. But the timewill come when the Nihilists will shake the tyranny out of the empirewith dynamite!" said he, fiercely.
"Silence, slaves!" cried a rough voice near by, and the next instant theburly form of a keeper stood between them. "Nineteen, you have alreadymade trouble enough. You must have the knout," and unlocking the door ofhis cell, he seized him by the hair of the head and dragged him out anddown through the corridor.
Two minutes later the blood was almost curdled in Barnwell's veins byth
e shrieking of that same poor wretch, undergoing punishment.
But he was not brought back to his cell, and what became of him Barnwellnever knew.
His thoughts, however, were soon turned from the wretched stranger tohimself, and to wondering what his own fate would be.
One thing he felt certain of, and that was that Prince Mastowix wouldnever assist him in regaining his liberty.
The letter he had so accommodatingly brought from New York undoubtedlycontained something of great importance, but why he should suffer onaccount of it he could not see.
Could he but make his case known to the American minister, he wouldundoubtely be given his liberty, but this he could