cold yet."
"Heavens!" he exclaimed, and sank back in his chair.
"It might have been expected, sir."
"Yes, but in connection with my dream! Barnwell, my dream! It must havecome simultaneously with it!" and the wretched man seemed scarcely ableto sit in his chair, so greatly did he tremble, while great beads ofperspiration stood out upon his forehead.
Barnwell hastened to set a glass of wine before him, which hetremblingly bore to his mouth and swallowed at a gulp.
"More!" he gasped, and Barnwell poured him out another.
"That will revive you, sir, I hope."
But the surgeon made no reply. He sat there glaring at vacancy for fullyfive minutes, and neither of them spoke a word.
Finally he pointed to the empty glass, and again Barnwell filled it withbrandy, which he drank.
He was evidently trying to nerve himself up.
"What a strange coincidence, Barnwell."
"Very strange, indeed, sir; but do not let it weigh too heavily on yourmind, I beg of you. Regard it as simply a strange coincidence, nothingmore."
"Oh, Barnwell, it must be something more! I have ill-treated that man,and even his death may be laid to my door and I have abused others evento death--those whose faces I saw in that deep-down, horrid hole--theywho welcomed me with such fiendish and exultant shouts," said he, withhis head bowed low.
There could be no doubt but that he spoke the truth, and this made itseem all the more strange. He had always been a tyrant in his office,and many a poor wretch had he sent to his long home after he becameuseless to the government.
He had never been credited with possessing either fear or a heart, butnow he showed that he was a moral as well as a physical coward, and wasracked by most agonizing fears.
"Barnwell," he finally said, "see that the old man is decently buried,and a prayer said over his grave. Yes, be sure and bury him decently ina coffin, and a grave so deep that the worms may not reach it, and thencome to me again. But see that you bury him tenderly, and say nothing ofthis to any person living."
"You shall be obeyed, sir," said Barnwell, hurrying from the room, gladto carry out such an order in the dead old exile's behalf.
CHAPTER X.
BURIED DECENTLY.
It was a mournful pleasure to William Barnwell to be able to place thebody of poor old Batavsky in a respectable coffin and see it given aChristian burial, instead of being thrown, like hundreds of others, intoa ravine, for the wolves to devour and fight over.
And it caused no little comment and speculation among those employedabout the hospital, for they had become so used to seeing the deadbarbarously disposed of, that it was an event to see one given Christianburial.
Some said Batavsky was an exiled nobleman, and that he had been thusburied by order of the governor, but no one suspected for a moment thatit was at the orders of the surgeon-in-chief, whose dream had frightenedhim into the semblance of a human being.
When all had been done, and the grave marked with Batavsky's prisonnumber, Barnwell returned, as ordered, to Kanoffskie.
"Is he buried?" was his first question.
"He is, sir."
"And decently?"
"As a Christian should be buried, sir."
"And a prayer was said?"
"Yes, sir."
Kanoffskie vented a sigh of relief, but he was a frightened and analtered man.
He was pale and trembling, and he glared wildly about, as thoughexpecting to see the ghosts of his victims, or the real return ofBatavsky to drag him down, as he had done in that awful dream.
"Have you any further orders, sir?"
"No; but stay--come to me again just before dark--I may want you," saidKanoffskie, hesitatingly.
"Very well," replied Barnwell, bowing himself from the room.
He understood very well that the iron had entered the tyrant's heart,and he resolved to work upon it.
That terrible dream was not all for nothing, even though he did notbelieve in dreams, and the young American made up his mind to humor theman, and see what would come of it in the future.
Barnwell mingled with his fellow-servants in the hospital, and answeredtheir questions regarding Batavsky.
Concluding that it was best to humor the prevailing idea, he half-wayadmitted that the old man belonged to a noble family, and that he hadbeen given a Christian burial at the instigation of the Czar himself.
This, of course, produced food for comment and controversy for a longtime, during which Barnwell, now able to speak the Russian language, wasable to converse and to learn much.
The short days of Siberia give one but a moment's warning betweendaylight and total darkness, and although this is not known or felt awaydown in the gold-mines, where they work from four o'clock in the morninguntil ten o'clock at night--where night and day are all the same to thepoor victims--those on the surface of the earth understand that when thesun goes down darkness follows, save when the Aurora Borealis comes withits weird light to illuminate the frozen world of Siberia.
Kanoffskie waited with impatience.
Somehow or other this young American had wormed himself into his coldand beastly nature, and even exercised more influence over him than heknew of.
Darkness came on, and Barnwell went to his master, as ordered.
He found him pacing his office in a highly nervous state.
"I am here, surgeon," said Barnwell.
"Stay here. Do not leave me," said the surgeon, with a sigh.
"I will do so, sir," replied Barnwell. "You seem nervous."
"No, well--you saw him decently buried?" he asked, stopping beforeBarnwell.
"Yes, sir."
"And there was a prayer said over him?"
"Yes, by the chaplain from the government house," said Barnwell.
"And you buried him deep?"
"Fully five feet underground."
"That is well. And a prayer was said?"
"Yes, sir."
Kanoffskie seemed entirely at sea.
"Will you retire, sir?"
"No, I shall remain here all night, and you will remain with me,"replied Kanoffskie, timidly.
"But you will not sleep in your chair?"
"Yes, and so must you. But he had Christian burial?" he asked,anxiously.
"Yes, everything was all right."
"Thank goodness! But that dream troubles me, Barnwell," said he.
"Let it not, my dear sir--it was only a dream."
"But the coincidence!"
"True, it is a strange one; but only think, my dear sir, how many dreamsyou might have--many dreams you have had, or may have hereafter, inwhich there has been, and will be, no coincidence. It is merely ahappen-so, my dear sir."
"No--no, Barnwell. I cannot believe it. But I feel better now that hehas had a Christian burial, and you assure me that a holy prayer wassaid over his dead body."
"Rest assured on that point, sir."
"But it was such a dreadful dream."
"So I grant you, sir."
"And happening just at the moment of old Batavsky's death!"
"As I said before, simply a coincidence."
"Oh, if I could only think so! Light the lamps."
"Yes, sir," and he at once proceeded to light a chandelier of oil-lamps.
The gloom of coming night had weighed upon him, but now that there waslight in the room, he felt better, and more composed, but still ill atease.
Finally he fell asleep, but it was long past midnight, and after he hadgone through with all sorts of mental misery, and then Barnwell venturedto sleep himself.
But it was a wild sleep that came to him, for all that he had passedthrough during the day had so wrought up his feelings that it was nextto impossible for him to sleep.
But both of them got gradually quieted down, and slept, one an honestman, and the other a rascal, and for an hour or more they kept it up,until Kanoffskie again fell into a nightmare.
Barnwell was awakened.
"Help! help! Ta
ke him away!" cried Kanoffskie, in his sleep. "No, no! donot let him drag me down to that pit! I know it, I know it, but do notlet him drag me down! I repent!"
And much more he said that Barnwell was perforce obliged to listen to,and of course he could not sleep.
But the night went on, and finally the doctor awoke.
He glared wildly around.
"Have you slept all night?" was the first question he asked, looking atBarnwell.
"No, doctor; you kept me awake."
"In what way?"
"You were talking in your sleep, sir."
"Indeed; what did I say?"
"Your mind seemed to be on old Batavsky."
"Did I mention his name?"
"No, sir, not directly; but you recalled portions of your horribledream."
"Did I?" and he fell to musing.
Nothing further happened at this time, but the next day Kanoffskievisited the governor, who was startled by his altered appearance, and atonce inquired the meaning of it.
"Your Excellency, I am not well. I am overworked, and have come to askyou to grant me a year's leave of absence," replied Kanoffskie.
"You certainly do look ill, doctor, but who can fill your place in theinterim?"
"Waskoff is fully competent, sir."
"Very well, then; I will appoint him to fill your place for a year,"replied the governor, writing the order.
"Thanks, your Excellency. And may I take a servant along with me, for Iam not able to travel so far alone."
"Yes; but on arriving at St. Petersburg, report the fact and theservant's number to the Prefect of Police."
"I shall obey you, sir."
"When do you propose to set out?"
"By the next convoy."
"Very well, but let me see you again before you start, for I haveseveral private commissions which I wish you to undertake for me."
"With the greatest pleasure, Excellency."
"And I trust you will return in better health, and well rested."
"I hope so, sir," replied Kanoffsky, bowing himself from the room.
He was indeed a changed man, and the governor did not fail to notice it,as did others who noticed him.
Some of the old hospital inmates whom he had abused at various times, ashe had the dead Batavsky, said among themselves that the spirits of hisdead victims were haunting him, which was pretty nearly the truth.
And to get away from them was, now that he had received leave ofabsence, what now urged him in the preparations.
He dared not encounter those horrible dreams again.
CHAPTER XI.
KANOFFSKIE AND HIS SERVANT.
"Barnwell, come here," said the miserable surgeon. "I have obtainedleave of absence, and shall set out for St. Petersburg at once, takingwith me a servant. Now make haste with my packing."
"Going to take a servant with you?" asked the young American, anxiously.
"Yes."
"Oh, will you take me?"
"Yes, I shall take you. But why do you manifest so much anxiety?"
"Well, sir, I think it only natural that I should do so. I abhor thisplace, as you must know, and even a temporary change would be agreeable,and make me more reconciled to my fate when I return with you."
"But I may not return at all."
"And, Providence keeping me, I will not," thought Barnwell.
"If I can get the ear of the Czar, and his favor, I shall never returnto this accursed place," said Kanoffskie, shuddering.
"I do not blame you for not wishing to."
"But on arriving at St. Petersburg I must report to the Prefect ofPolice, and procure a permit from him to retain a convict as myservant."
"Yes."
"Your number and personal description will have to agree with yoursentence and commitment, and ever after that, while you remain, you willbe under police surveillance."
"True, I dare say."
"So you must not become elated with the idea of liberty."
"No; but it will be such a change, my dear sir, and I am so thankful toyou for taking me. I will be a true and faithful servant to you."
"Did I not think so I certainly should not take you, and any attempt onyour part to escape would not only consign you to the mines for life,but very likely get me into serious trouble also."
"I shall not forget it, sir."
"Very well. Now, set at work without delay and get my effects boxed up,"said Kanoffskie, going from the room.
Collecting Kanoffskie's effects took Barnwell to various places, andamong others to the governor's palace.
Here he encountered Zora Vola, the girl whose knouting he had witnessedand resented.
It appeared that the governor had inquired into her case after theoccurrence, and had taken her to the palace laundry.
The recognition was mutual and instant.
Just then she chanced to be alone, and she sprang joyfully towards him.
"Oh, sir, I am so glad of an opportunity to speak with you, and to thankyou, as I have so often done in my prayers, for shielding me from thosecruel thongs," said she earnestly.
"I would that I could do even more than that for you," said he, takingher hands.
"You are not a Russian?"
"No. I have learned the language because it may assist me, not becausseI love it," said he bitterly.
"Then you are not a Nihilist?"
"No, only in heart."
"How long were you sent here for?"
"Goodness only knows."
"And for what, pray?"
"For nothing wrong. I am an American, but was foolish enough, supposingI was doing no harm, to bring a letter from New York to St. Petersburgto Prince Mastowix."
"The wretch! I know him well," said she bitterly.
"But he was somehow caught in his own trap and afterwards executed,though not until he had sent me here, fearing, probably, that I knew thecontents of the fatal letter."
"Good!"
"And what brings you here?" he asked.
"I am a Nihilist, and was betrayed with others by that same Mastowix,who claimed to be one of us, and here I am for life," she added.
"What a shame. The conduct of Russian tyrants produces the very enemiesthey try to exterminate."
"Yes, and we shall never get away from this frozen world until theNihilists have their heels upon the tyrants' necks.
"It would seem so. But I am going to St. Petersburg to-morrow."
"To St. Petersburg?" she asked, eagerly.
"Yes. Dr. Kanoffskie is going on a leave of absence, and I am going withhim as his valet."
"To dear old St. Petersburg! Oh, how I wish I could see it once more!Stay, will you take a letter to my brother there?"
"With pleasure."
"I have it here. It was written nearly a year ago, and I have carried itin my bosom, hoping to find some way of sending it to him. Tell him howit is with me here, and he will bless you for the message."
"But, come to think of it, would it not be better for both your brotherand myself if I simply took a verbal message from you to him? I shall beunder the police eye all the time, and the letter might be found and getus both into trouble."
"Yes, you are right," she said, after a moment's reflection, and thenshe told him the message she would have him deliver.
Then, receiving his address, he charged his mind with it, and started togo.
"One moment more; tell me your name, that I may remember and pray foryou always," she said, appealingly.
"William Barnwell; and yours?"
"Zora Vola."
"I shall not forget it."
"As I shall never forget yours."
"I have hopes, Zora, and if I ever live to realize them, you shallbenefit thereby."
"God bless and keep you, sir!"
"And may He give you heart and hope in your misery," replied he, againshaking her hands and returning to the hospital.
The next day Kanoffskie and his valet started with the government trainthat makes that terrible jour
ney from St. Petersburg to Siberia twiceevery year, and at the end of three months they reached the capitol.
And, oh, what a relief it was to Barnwell, who had all but given up thehope of ever seeing a semblance of civilization again. How his heartthrilled as he nursed his hopes!
Kanoffsky seemed greatly altered, although for the past two months hehad lost much of the nervousness produced by old Batavsky's death, asthough from leaving the scene of it further and further behind.
His confidence in Barnwell seemed to grow stronger every day; but, onarriving at St. Petersburg, he obeyed the governor's instructionsrelative to reporting to the prefect of police, without an hour's lossof time.
This he did as a measure of personal safety as much as for hispromptness in obeying orders, for he was determined to keep himselfentirely above police suspicion.
Should he fail to do so, and it should come to the ears of theauthorities, it might not only annul his leave of absence, but get himinto other difficulty.
He had made up his mind never to return to his post of duty, and if hecould not bring influence enough to bear upon the minister of war to gethim another assignment, he resolved to take advantage of his year'sleave of absence and escape the empire.
He took lodgings in a respectable quarter; and Barnwell enacted the partof a valet there with even greater perfection than he had whilejourneying from Siberia.
But he was watching his opportunities, knowing that he was a marked manwith the police, and known to every member of it.
The first thing to do was to insure confidence in Kanoffskie and thepolice, and this he exerted himself to do, feeling certain that the timewould come before the year was up for him to carry out his plans.
With Kanoffskie it was an easy matter, and as he was a governmentofficer against whom there was no suspicion, Barnwell was allowedgreater latitude on that account.
So, one day, after they had been in St. Petersburg about a month, hemanaged while carrying a message for Kanoffskie, to get near theofficial residence of the American minister, over which the Stars andStripes of the great republic floated proudly. It thrilled him to theheart as he once more beheld that ensign of liberty, and, suddenlychanging his direction, he rushed into the building and demanded to seethe representative of the United States.
An attendant directed him to that officer's chamber, just as twoofficers of the police, who had observed his movements, entered theouter room.
"You, sir, are the American minister?" said Barnwell, rushing hurriedlyinto his presence.
"I am. What do you wish?"
"I claim the protection due to an outraged citizen of the UnitedStates."
"Who are you?"
"William Barnwell. My name is on your books, and you personally saw mypassport."
At that moment the Russian officers entered.
"Ah! I defy you now! The Stars and Stripes once more wave above me!"shouted Barnwell, as the officers approached him.
CHAPTER XII.
A FREE MAN ONCE MORE.
"Stand aside, officers, until I investigate this case," said theAmerican minister, in a tone of command that the tyrannical minions ofthe law knew too much to disobey, for at that time the United States andRussia were on exceedingly friendly terms.
"Now, what is your story?" he asked, turning to young Barnwell.
"It is this, sir," he answered, and thereupon he proceeded to give therepresentative of his native land the history of his case, so well knownto the reader.
It was a startling story of cruel outrage, as we all know, and therecital of it made the minister very indignant.
Turning to the officers, he said:
"You can shadow this man if you think it your duty, but you must notarrest or interfere with him in any way while he is under the protectionof the American flag. I shall take him at once before the primeminister," and without loss of time he proceeded to do so.
He was instantly admitted to the august presence of that highfunctionary, where the story was again told and verified.
The minister of state was astounded, both at the audacity of the outrageand the fact of his being a victim of Prince Mastowix, the very letterhe had innocently brought being the one that sealed the traitor's fate.
The whole business was confirmed by Tobasco, the police spy, who securedthe letter and gave it to the prefect of police.
Search was at once made for the passport and money belonging toBarnwell, and after a deal of red tape had been unwound the property wasfound and restored to him.
And not only that, but the Russian prime minister ordered him to be paidfive thousand rubles for indemnity, and the American minister rendered amost abject apology for the the outrage.
This was followed at once by orders from the prefect of police to allhis subordinates touching Barnwell's case; espionage was withdrawn, his"Number" obliterated from the secret records, and in a short time he wasone of the freest men in the Russian empire.
In justice to Surgeon Kanoffskie, he cleared him of all complicity inthe matter, although he promptly withdrew, of course, from the menialattitude he had so long occupied towards him, and which had enabled himto escape.
Yes, he was a free man once more, and had, through the dictates of hiscountry, been the recipient of an apology almost from the throne. Yetall this did not efface the cruel stripes left by the knout, or effacefrom his heart the wrong and misery he had endured.
Indeed, he felt quite as bitter towards the tyrannical government asever, and there was awful bitterness in his heart.
A few days after regaining his rights, he remembered Zora Vola and themessage he had agreed to carry to her brother, and without loss of timeset about finding him, a task he soon found to be an exceedinglydifficult one, on account of his being known to the police as an activeand a dangerous Nihilist.
Nor was this all. After spending a whole week without finding him, hebecame convinced that he, as well as other Nihilists, had other namesthan, their own, by which they were known only to undoubted and trustedones of the mysterious brotherhood.
This discouraged him to such a degree that he was on the point of givingup the task and resuming his own greater one--that of securing themillion rubles secreted so many years ago by Batavsky.
But so perfect and secret is the Nihilist organization in the largercities of Russia, that they employ spy for spy with the government, andtheir enemies are watched as carefully as they are themselves, which, ina measure, accounts for their great success and the infrequency of theirbeing detected.
In this way it became known to Vola that an American was seeking himunder his real name, and a spy was at once put upon his track to learnabout him.
This, of course, he did not know. Indeed, he had at one time madeinquiries of this very same spy regarding the object of his search, but,although questioned closely, he would reveal nothing relating to hisbusiness.
Finally Vola, being convinced that the man seeking him was not an enemy,nor in any way employed by the authorities met him purposely one day athis hotel--the very day, in fact, on which he had concluded to abandonthe search.
He approached and addressed him in Russian, which by this time Barnwellunderstood quite well, as the reader must know, and asked him thedirection to a certain street.
"I am a stranger here," replied Barnwell, "but would gladly direct youif I could. Most likely the men at the hotel office can direct you," headded, politely.
"Ah, thank you; but I would not like to inquire of them for the person Iam in search of," and looking around, as if to make sure that he was notlikely to be observed or overheard, he lowered his voice, and added: "Iam in search of a man by the name of Vola."
Barnwell leaped to his feet.
"Peter Vola?" he asked.
"Hush! The same. Do you know him?"
"Yes, if I could but find him. It is remarkable," mused Barnwell.
"What is remarkable?"
"Why, that I have been unsuccessfully searching for a man by that namefor a week."
&nbs
p; "Do you know him?"
"I do not."
"Have you business with him?"
"No; but I have a message for him."
"Indeed; from whom, pray?"
"Pardon me, that is my business and his."
"Pardon me also, for asking the question. But if I can find direction tothe street I asked you about, I can present you to him," said thestranger, who was a distinguished-looking man, about fifty years of age.
"You would greatly oblige me by doing so."
"Wait a moment; perhaps that dismounted cossack can direct me," sayingwhich, he followed the soldier into the cafe.
There was a crowd in there, and Barnwell would have been puzzled to seewhether the stranger actually spoke with the soldier; but after a minuteor so he returned.
"I have learned it. Follow me," said he, turning from the room.
Barnwell did as directed, and together they walked three or foursquares, and then turned into a side street.
A short distance down it he found the number, and knocked upon the doorin a curious sort of manner, and presently it was opened by anattendant.
"Show me Vola's chamber," said the man, in a low tone of voice, and theattendant conducted them to it.
"Remain here a moment, and I will bring him before you," said thestranger, pointing to a chair that stood in the plainly-furnished room.
Being left alone, Barnwell could but reflect upon the strangeness of thestranger's behavior, for, indeed, he did not seem like a stranger thereat all.
At the expiration of five minutes the door opened, and, apparently,another person entered the room.
"I am told you are in search of one Peter Vola," said he, taking a seatin front of him.
"I am, and have been for several days," replied Barnwell.
"What do you wish with him?"
"That is his business and mine, sir."
"Indeed? Might I ask what it relates to?"
"You might, indeed, but I should not inform you unless you were PeterVola."
"But do you not know that he is hunted by the police, and that it ispositively dangerous on your part to be even inquiring for him?"
"I was not aware of it, sir."
"But it is a fact, nevertheless."
"I am sorry to know that. But I am a stranger here."
"I observe that you are not a Russian."
"No, I am an American
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