The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1877-09-05
British diplomatic service, junior attache
ofH r M'sT T,aoation at Madrid.

British diplomatic service, junior attache
of 81. B. NJ. s Legation at Madrid. .
Prisoner, you triAe with justice y
said the comnlandant sternly, in French;
and, indeed, when the morocco case was
drawn out and opened, it proved to be
empty. My passport and papers were
gone, ine1plicably to me. AS I stared
blankly there was q roar of laughter,
mingled with comments on my effron-
"Remove the pretended Englishman"
ordered the colonel, and I was thurst
back into the carriage, a soldier on each
side of me, and conducted to the town
of Toriok, where was lodged in jail.
I do not like, even yet, to recall what
underwent during the miserable three
weeks that T spent in the prison of Tor
jok. It was not that the cell was narrow,
the bed squalid, and the fare hard and
bad. T was young and strong, and
could rough it. But it was madden
ing to be eternally examined and cross
examined by civil magistrates and
military functionaries, none of whom
would listen to the plain truth, and
all of whom tried, by threat, promise,
persuasion, to wiring out of me a con-
fession which, as they said, would en-
able me to claim the czar's mercy and a
lighter punishment for my crime. I was
browbeaten, bullied, argued with,
coaxed, but never accused Of anything.
When I inquired the nature of my Of
fense I was jeered at. When I adjured
my captors to write to the British en-
bassy, my rayer was treated as an i'm
pudent Jest. And when I mentioned
Count Orloff, the governor of the
province, as my future father-in-law, I
really thought the Judge of instructions
would have flown at my throat, so angry
was he.
"Only bread and water for the con-
tumacious /" I heard him roar to tho
jailer as he went out. I thought, be-
tween them, that they would have driven
me mad, and should have welcomed
Siberia as release.
I grew sullen at last, and refused to
return any answer to the interrogatories
with which they piled me. began al
most to doubt my own identity. It
could not be myself, Arthur Musgrave,
who wos the tenant of this Russian den,
and daily questioned as to my completely
in something extremely subversive Of
Church and State. Let them knout me,
hang me, Danish me if they would, I
felt as though T were the only sane man
among q pack Of madmen.
"Here is the wretch, your excellency," !"
said voice one day as my cell door was
thrown open, with clatter of swords
and spurs on the stone floor that indi-
Gated the arrival of some distinguished
parsonage; " there the desperate is, lord
governor"
I looked up. There in front of the
group stood, in q rich uniform, the
breast of which sparkled with orders,
the excellency" in question. The
recognition was mutual.
"Count Orloff p "What! Musgrave!
Arthur, my dear boy, what terrible error
is this ?"
And to the scandal of the Judge, the
jailer and the rest of them, the governor
of the province hurried across the grimy
floor to clasp my 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
suffered" 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 q
socialist conspiracy, widespread one,
luckily detected in time,. prime mover
in which had been my acquaintance,
Vassili, 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 pass
port and papers, probably for the sake
of escaping, in case of the worst, under
my name. -.
"But Pope John, and his son." said
I, bewildered.
"The real Pope John, sad old
rogue" answered the count, smiling,
chad been arrested the day before you
reached Staritza, and you found his
house in possession of the police. The
white-bearded person TO whom you gave
the message, disguised in the priests
clothes, was Major Bulow, of the I'M
perial gendarmerie; and the message
itself wa.j an artful concoction, couched
in a sort of verbal cipher, the key to
which traitor gave us, and which, but
for our military precautions, would have
led to a raising of the Polish regiment
at Tver, and raising of the peasantry
in fifty parishes. AS it is, all is safe, and
o telegram has just informed me that
Vassili himself has been captured on
the frontier. If ever a man deserved
Siberia-but you 60 free, Arthur. Come
with me, and Marie and I will teach you
to forget this misery"
I have been married and happy now
this many q year, but I do not think
that the ill-omened face of Demetrius
Vassili will ever be seen again on this
side of the Oural.