and we had left the sacred building.
Soon we were upon our way again, and through out the day trudged wearilyonward. With a thick pine forest on each side of the road, the journeyresembled a sea voyage, one spot so much like another that we alwaysseemed to remain in the same place.
We had no chains to trouble us now; but though permission had been givento talk, all desire for conversation had gone out of us, so jaded andweary were we. Without a halt, we pushed on until long after daylighthad faded, and when at last a rest was made we prepared to bivouac inthe forest.
A large fire was lit, some biscuits and salt beef served out, and then,with nothing further to protect us from the frost than our greatcoatsand rugs, we flung ourselves upon the ground and sought repose.
I was exhausted and soon fell asleep. I must have continued so forseveral hours, when suddenly I felt a hand upon my cheek, and in thefitful light thrown by the dying embers of the fire, saw a Cossackbending over me.
All was quiet, save for the shadowy forms of the sentries, who pacedquietly to and fro among the surrounding trees.
As I awoke, the man at my side placed his finger significantly upon mylips, whispering in broken English, "Don't utter a word, but listen;Frank Burgoyne, remember what I am about to tell you. Be brave, and youmay escape."
"Escape!" I ejaculated, rubbing my eyes, half-believing that I must bedreaming. "How can I?"
"The matter is simple if you follow my directions; but it will requirenerve and firm determination. If you falter you are lost."
"Tell me, how can it be done?" I whispered, eagerly.
He bent so closely that, although his face was unrecognisable in thedarkness, I could feel his breath. Placing his mouth to my ear he said:"To-morrow afternoon we shall pass through a small village calledPodberesa. A mile after leaving it, we shall come to cross-roads, andthere you will see a two-horse sleigh awaiting you, the driver of whichwill have a red ribbon upon his whip. Be on the watch, and when closeto it make a dash between the guards, jump in, and you will be driven tothe coast, where you can get away to England. In the sleigh you willfind the dress of a courier, and a passport which will ensure yoursafety."
"But the escort; they will fire!" I exclaimed in amazement.
"There are no `buts.' Time does not permit of reflection. Do as I bid,and you will not be harmed," he said.
"You are my friend, then?"
"No, scarcely that. My duty is to take you to the mines."
"Then why do you tell me how to escape?"
"There is reason in most things that we do."
"And what is your reason for this?" I asked. "Perhaps you can explainwhy I have been kept in that horrible prison without trial, and why I,an Englishman, should be sent to Siberia for no offence whatever?"
"Yes, yes," he replied, "I am aware of all this. But hush! The guardsare changing. Remember all I have said; make your dash for liberty witha stout heart, and when you return to London all will be explained.Adieu, and _bon voyage_."
The man crawled noiselessly away, but as he lifted himself upon hishands the fire threw out a flicker of light which fell upon hisfeatures. It was only momentarily and then died away, yet in that briefsecond I detected a close--even striking--resemblance to some one I hadseen before.
He slipped away without a sound, just as the sentry passed; neverthelessfor a long time I lay awake trying to recollect where I had seen thesoldier's face before.
At last I felt positive the voice was the same as that of the officerwho had visited me in the cell, yet what motive he could have inplanning my escape, I could not guess. Then again I felt sure the faceresembled some one I had known intimately, or had cause to remember.Suddenly it dawned upon me.
The face was similar to that of the man I had seen leaving the house inBedford Place!
The next day passed much as the preceding one, though with considerableexcitement and anxiety I prepared myself for my bold attempt to regainfreedom. It was late in the afternoon that we passed through thevillage, and it was fast growing dusk when the object for which I wasstraining my eyes came into view--a sleigh, the driver of which had thereins and whip gathered up in the act of starting.
The critical moment arrived.
Just as we were passing, I slipped out of the ranks, and made a suddendash, falling headlong into the vehicle. The fall saved me.
I heard the word of command. A dozen shots rang out. But in a fewseconds we were flying at a furious rate along the smooth highway in anopposite direction. It was an exciting moment, but I did not lose mynerve.
"Don't be alarmed," said the driver, in English; "the guards dare notleave the prisoners, and we shall beat them easily. Dress as quickly asyou can, for by this time to-morrow we must be at Viborg."
I found the clothes, and exchanged my convict's dress for them. In thepockets were a passport and a purse well filled with roubles. Whendressed, I settled myself to think. With relays of horse at everypost-station, we travelled all that night. Next evening we drove intoViborg.
I questioned the driver, but he would not tell me by whom he had beenengaged.
"You have been wronged, and reparation must be made," was all hereplied.
By no ingenious questioning could I elicit any particulars as to who wasinstrumental in scheming my escape, for to all my inquiries he was dumb,although he appeared fully cognisant of my adventures since I had beenin Russia.
On arrival at Viborg I lost no time in searching for a ship, and, to myrelief, found one leaving for Hull in a few hours. I exhibited mypassport as an official courier, obtained a berth, and before the nextday dawned had the satisfaction of watching the lights of the Russianport disappear at the stern.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
AN OMINOUS INCIDENT.
On the evening of the day after my return to London, I was passing downthe Strand, intending to seek Bob Nugent at the Junior Garrick.
The utmost excitement was prevalent.
Something startling had been published in the evening papers. Dozens ofnewsboys were rushing about amongst the throng of foot-passengers crying"Spe-shall! 'nother 'orrible murder!" Every one was purchasing copies,reading them in doorways and under street-lamps, and my curiosity beingaroused at the unusual commotion, I did likewise.
Opening the paper, my eye caught the bold headlines, "The Mystic Sealagain. Another Mysterious Murder."
The account was too long to be read in the street, so turning into thenearest restaurant, and flinging myself into a chair, I read it frombeginning to end; for I, of all men, was interested in these almostsuperhuman crimes.
Briefly told, they were the details of a curious but atrocious crime,committed with great daring. Shortly before one o'clock that morning, aconstable on his beat, while passing through Angel Court, Drury Lane,noticed the form of a woman lying in the shadow of a doorway. He atfirst thought it was one of the wanderers so numerous in thatneighbourhood, and was about to rouse her, when he was horrified todiscover that she was dead, and that blood was flowing from a deep woundin her throat.
The body was in a pool of blood, and it appeared as if the fatal gashhad been inflicted with a razor. The officer at once gave the alarm,and within a few minutes several other constables were on the spot, aswell as the divisional surgeon. Nothing could be ascertained in theneighbourhood regarding the murdered woman, who was aged abouttwenty-five. But on the body being removed to the mortuary, there wasdiscovered pinned to the breast, and soaked through with blood, a smallpiece of paper which had evidently borne the repulsive seal. Althoughthe latter had been torn off, a portion of the wax still remained.
The narrow passage in which the murdered woman had been found was littlefrequented, it being extremely secluded, and, except at the outerportion, the houses were not inhabited.
How the deed could have been committed without any sounds having beenheard by those who lived near was regarded as a mystery by all who knewthe neighbourhood, and, of course, there were the usual wild rumoursafloat as
to the probable identity of the murdered woman.
In a leading article, the journal said:
"It seems pretty certain that this last atrocity must be ranked with theothers. Committed with the same startling rapidity, with the samedisheartening absence of traceable clues, this latest crime was probablyperpetrated by the same scoundrel or maniac as the one who horrified andpuzzled the world last year. The murderer goes about his work with muchdeliberation, and effects his escape with great skill, and even takestime and trouble in pinning the cabalistic sign of the seal to thebreast of his victim. The meaning of that sign it is impossible totell. We have steadily asserted, before and after the occurrence ofthese murders, that the police force of London is not adequate innumbers to the duties imposed upon it. It is the business of thepolice, if it cannot prevent crime, at least to detect it."
It was the eighth murder, and still the authorities were