The Findlay Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Hancock County, Ohio) 1870-1881, 1877-10-12


ed my wrists together. Then shaking
off the stupor of surprise, I found my
tongue. There was, | said, evidently
some mistake, some confusion Of per
sons. Ny passport, if they would kindly
look fol it in the breast-pocket of my
ulster, would prove me TO be Arthur
Musgrave, of the British diplomatic ser
vice, junior attaehe of H B Ms Legation
at Madrid.
Prisoner, you trife with justice,
said the commandant s.ernly, in French
and, indeed, when the morocco case wa
drawn out and opened, il proved 10 b.
empty. Ny passport and papers wer'
gone, inexplicably to me. As stare(
blankly there was roar of laughter
mingled with comments on my efffon
terry.
Remove the pretended Englishman.
ordered the colonel, and / was thrus
back into the carriage, a soldier on eacl
side of me, and conducted to the tow
of Torjok, where was lodged in Jail.
do not like, even yet, to recall wha
| underwent during the miserable thre,
weeks l spent in the prison of Torjok
i was not that the cell was narrow, th,
bed squalid, and the fare hard and bad
| was young and strong, and could rougf
it. But it was maddening to be eter
nally examined and cross examined By
civil magistrates and military function
aries, none Of whom would listen to the
plain truth, and all of whom tried, BY
threat, promise, persuasion, to wiring Out
of me confession which, as they said
would enable me to claim the Cars
mercy and lighter punishment for my
GRIM. was browbeaten, bullied argued
with, coaxed, but never accused of anv
thing. When | adjured my captors to
write to the British Embassy, my PRAYER
was treated as an impudent jest And
when mentioned Count Orlof, the
Governor Of the province, as my future
hther-in law, ! really thought the Judge
of instruction would have flown at nv
throat, so angry was he.
"Only bread and water for the con
tumacious," | h. ard him roar to the
lalier as he went out. l thought, between
them, that they would have driven me
mad, and should have welcomed Siberia
as Il release.
! grew sullen at last, and refused to
return any answer to the interrogatories
with which they piled me. I began al
most to doubt my own identity. 1t
could not be myself, Arthur Musgraye,
who was the tenant Of this Russian den,
and daily questioned as to my compiled
ty in something extremely subversiye
of Church and State. Let them knout
me, hang me, Danish me if they would,
| felt as though | we're the only sane
man among pack Of madmen.
"nere is the wretch, your Excellency,"
said voice one day as my cell door was
thrown open, with a clatter of swords
and spurs on the stone floor that indi
Gated the arrival of some distinguished
parsonage; there the desperate is, lord
l looked up. There, in front Of the
group, stood, In rich uniform. the breast
of which sparkled with orders, the Eek
cellency" in question. The recognition
was mutual.
Count OrlofI," What! Musgravel
Arthur. my dear boy, what terrible er
ror is this
And to the scandal of the judge, the
iailer and the rest of them, the Governor
of the province hurried across the grimy
floor to clasy mp hands, and to order, in
a voice that brooked no denial or delay
that my chains should instantly be taken
off.
my poor fellow, how you must have
said the Count feelingly, as he
saw how pale and haggard | had grown.
And then came explanations, the cream
of which was that there had been a So
cialistic conspiracy, widespread one,
luckily detected in time, prime mover
in which had been my acquaintance
EassiG, who had evidently made cats
paw of me in inducing me to carry his
message to the priest, while at the same
time he purloined my English passport
and papers, probably for the sake ofes-
Gaping, in case of the worst, under my
name.
But Pope John, and his son." said
bewildered.
"rhe real Pope John,a sad old rogue"
answered the Count, smiling, had been
the day before you reached
and you found his house in
p session of the police. The white
bearded person to whom you gave the
disguised in the priests clothes
was Major Bulow, Of the imperial gen
darmerie; and the message itself was an
artfui concoction, couched in sort of
verbal cipher, the hey to which traitor
gave us, and which, but for our military
precautions, would have led to a revolt
of the Polish regiment at Tyer, and a
rising of the peasantry in fifty parishes.
As it is, all is safe, and telegram has
just informed me that Vassili himself
has been captured on the frontier. If
ever q man deserved Siberia-but you
are free, Arthur. Come with me, and
Marie and l will teach you to forget this
misery"
] have been married and happy now
this many year, but do not think that
the i'll omened face ofDemetrius Vassiii
will ever be seen again on this side Of the
Ural.