had expected, and his behaviour was so brusqueas to leave me no pleasant impression of his character.
The day wore on.
The afternoon I spent smoking in the Cafe Chinois in the NevskoiProspekt, and in the evening strolled through the delightfully artisticSummer Gardens, debating whether I should remain a few days longer, orleave Russia at once.
Sitting alone at dinner about seven o'clock, I chanced to gaze acrossthe Polschad. It was apparent something unusual had taken place, forpeople were standing in small groups talking and gesticulating together;and as I rose to regard them more closely, Trosciansky, the proprietorof the hotel, entered, with a pale, half-scared expression upon hisface.
"What's the matter outside?" I asked in French. "It seems as ifsomething is wrong."
"I have heard of nothing, m'sieur," he replied, with an expression ofastonishment which I detected was feigned, at the same time advancing tothe window and looking out.
I made a mental note that mine host was not telling the truth, for hisagitation was plainly observable; and, while a number of police werebeing marched across the square, he quickly withdrew his face from thewindow, as if half-fearful lest he should be observed. He left the roomfor a few moments, afterwards returning with a large bowl of crimsonflowers, which he placed upon a small table close to the window,remarking:
"These will make your room brighter, m'sieur. I, myself, am very fondof flowers."
"And I'm not," I remarked, "I detest flowers in a room; take them away,please."
He turned and looked at me with surprise, not unmixed with alarm.
"Eh? M'sieur really means I am to take away the beautiful blossoms?" hesaid, raising his eyebrows in astonishment.
"Yes, I won't have them here on any account, they smell so faint."
He hesitated for a few seconds, then replied: "Well, I regret it, for Iprocured these expressly for m'sieur's benefit," and carried the bowlout of the room, muttering as he did so, "Then it must be the artificialones."
He had been absent only a few minutes before he reappeared, bearing alarge basket of crimson roses in wax, under a glass shade, and set themin the place whence he had removed the real ones.
"What have you brought those for?" I asked, as wax-flowers are one ofmy abominations.
"For you, m'sieur. Are they not superb?--so near the life. Wonderfullyclever imitation, are they not?"
I nodded assent, but it struck me there must be some reason for thehotel-keeper placing these in my window. What was it?
I was about to order him to remove them also, but refrained from doingso, determined to observe this strange proceeding and endeavour to findout the cause.
After some cigarettes, I went out for an evening stroll, and as soon asI gained the street there were unmistakable signs that somethingextraordinary had happened, though, not speaking Russian, I was unableto ascertain. Intelligence of some description had spread like wildfireand was causing a terrible sensation, for from mouth to mouth ominousnews was whispered with bated breath, conversations were being carriedon in an undertone, heads were shaken mysteriously, and newspapersrapidly scanned, which all tended to confirm my suspicion that somethinghad occurred.
Such a stir had not been created in the capital for many years, and thatnight the streets presented a scene of panic that impressed itselfindelibly upon my memory.
When I returned to the hotel I chanced to be walking upon the oppositeside of the street, and glancing up, before crossing, saw what caused meto start in surprise. Though the lamp in my sitting-room was alight,the blind was not drawn, the brilliant illumination within causing thewax roses to stand out in bold relief in the window--so bold, indeed,that they could be plainly seen from the most distant part of the greatsquare.
That they were placed there for some purpose I was convinced--what didthey mean?
I retired to rest as usual, but could not close my eyes for thinking ofthe strange episode. There seemed an air of mystery about the wholeplace that I did not like.
Several minor matters now occurred to me of which, at the time theyhappened, I thought nothing; yet as I lay thinking I confess I began towish myself anywhere but in St Petersburg. Throughout, there had beenso much that was incomprehensible, and I had been so sorely puzzled,that I felt a fervent desire to give up, and seek no further elucidationof the riddle from Vera.
The bells of the Izak Church had broken the silence of the night,chiming the hour of three, as I lay dozing, when suddenly there came asharp rapping at the door, and voices demanding admittance.
My first impression was that the hotel was on fire, but on throwing openthe door, Trosciansky and two other men entered.
"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded.
"Hist! m'sieur," he replied, laying his finger upon his lips, indicativeof silence. Then he said in a low voice:
"Quick! Prepare yourself for a journey; the police are on their wayhere, and will arrest you! Make your escape, now you have time."
"What?" I cried, rubbing my eyes to make certain I was not dreaming."To arrest me! What for, pray?"
"M'sieur must be aware. Lose no time, you must get out of Russia atonce, or all will be lost," he said in a loud whisper, while the othermen gave vent to some ejaculations in Russian.
"I have committed no crime," I said, "and I certainly shall not fly fromhere like a thief. The police may come, and I will welcome them."
"Fly! fly!" urged the man, with a look of alarm upon his face; "fly forVera Seroff's sake!"
"What has she to do with this?" I asked eagerly.
"You know, m'sieur; you know. It will place her in deadly peril if youare arrested. Fly, while there is still time."
"But the police cannot touch me; I have no fear of them," I remarked,just as a thought suddenly occurred to me.
Where was my passport, that paper without which no one in Russia issafe, not even Russians themselves? I took up my coat and felt in theinner pocket where I constantly kept it.
It was gone!
My valise, the pockets of other coats, every hole and corner Iinvestigated, but found it not. It was evidently lost or stolen!
Then a thought crossed my mind.
"Take our advice, m'sieur; dress and escape," said Trosciansky,persuasively.
"No, I will not," I cried angrily. "I see this is a plot to extortmoney--or something. My passport has been stolen, and I shall myselfinform the police to-morrow, and also of my suspicions regarding thishouse."
"_Diable_!" he ejaculated, in the utmost alarm, as at that moment therewas a sound of a door opening and heavy footsteps below!
"Hark! They are here! It is too late."
I opened my lips to reply, but no sound came from them. I have a faintrecollection of a sponge being dashed into my face by one of thehotel-keeper's companions, then came a strange, even delightfulsensation of giddiness, a confused murmur of voices, of music, ofpleasant sounds,--and all was blank.
I had been drugged.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
THE CELL BELOW THE RIVER.
A terrible, excruciating headache of maddening intensity, a violentthrobbing, as if molten lead were being injected into my skull; ahorrible pain through my eyes and temples like the pricking of red-hotneedles.
I tried to think, but could remember nothing distinctly; I was onlyconscious of frightful agony. To all else I was oblivious. Where Iwas, or what were my surroundings, I knew not.
My mind was wandering, my reason giving way, for suddenly I felt asensation as if the burning in my head had been succeeded by an icycoldness which seemed to freeze my senses; and then, as suddenly, I feltas if I were being borne along in mid-air, floating higher and higherinto space, then down, down, into depths too terrible to contemplate.In a moment I should be dashed to pieces. I felt I was falling andutterly unable to save myself.
The sensation was awful.
One moment I fancied I was in London, amid old associations and booncompanions, the next I seemed in some out-of-the-way plac
e, lonely andforgotten. Presently I saw the grave, beautiful face of Vera, and thenit gave place to that of a middle-aged man, whose sinister featurespuckered into a hideous mocking smile.
I tried to collect my thoughts, to shape them, to think; but it was nouse.
The pains returned more acutely than before. I essayed to cry out, butmy dry, parched tongue clave to the roof of my mouth. I felt weak andill, and my agony was so intense I was convinced if it continued Ishould go mad or die.
Perhaps it grew too much for me, for as the throbbing in my templesincreased, I experienced a sickening sensation of giddiness, and againbecame insensible.
I must have fainted.
Slowly I struggled back to consciousness, only to find myself stretchedat full length upon a heap of mouldy straw, with a black, impenetrabledarkness around me. The place was cold and damp, and