The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1880-05-24

fate. The voices round him seemed to hold
a short conference, and then they lifted him
from the ground, and carrying him short
distance deposited him in what he felt to be
a gondola. The journey was not long,
though to him it seemed an age, and very
soon the rocking motion ceased. They evil
IDENTIFY had reached their destination. A
few seconds more and he was landed in the
same unceremonious mds-ia.
After depriEing him of his sword and Sc
curing his hands, his captors released him
from the folds of the mantle in which he
had been almost choked. He found him.
self in a very small passage, dimly lighted
and intensely damp. The low ceiling, the
strong stone walls, the massive iron doors
that lined it, reminded him at once of all he
had heard and read abont the State prisons
of Venice, and his heart sank within him.
Without, however, giving him much time
for reflection or asking him any questions,
his captors opened one of the cells, thrust
him in, and bolted the door. Left alone in
the almost absolute darkness, our friend
CROPPED about as well as his tied hands would
allow him until he found stone bench, on
which he dropped, completely unnamed by
the novelty and horror of his position.
He had heard of prisoners being kept in
these State prisons for months, even for
years, without light, with just enough of the
coarsest food to keep them alive, and with
out the shadow of a Judgment. Others had
been tried and executed within these dark
walls, and their friends outside had never
known their fate. Was he, too, going to
disappear without struggle from this
world? Was his body going to be dropped
into the ''Canal Grande''? Or was he to
linger in his cell until bis youth, his strength,
and, perhaps, his mind were gone, to be re-
leased only a wreck of his former self, as
warning to others? There were many in
Venice, poor shattered beings, heart-broken,
half-crazed, Stunned by everybody, who had
once been the leaders of fashion, of sci ence,
of politics, until an anonymous note dropped
into the Lions mouth had caused their ar
rest, and their trialless detention in the I'M
derground-or rather, NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS.
of the Serenissima.
But then, who could have denounced him?
Who could have an interest in destroying
him in this cowardly fashion? All the peo-
pie he knew were above suspicion; and yet,
even the Serenissima would not have ar
rested an Englishman, Kings messenger,
without some good reason. nthat dreadful
silence, broken only by the quiet FLASHING
of the water on the stone walls in which he
was imprisoned, his memory was particular
ly vivid, and recalled to his mind all the in
cidents of his stay. At last he remembered
those few hot, foolish words he had used
that very night; they, and they alone, could
be the cause of his present condition. This,
however, brought no relief; it aggravated on
ly his fears and his dependency, since he
well knew what awful punishments were in
ficted on those who. to use the Venetian
phrase, "blasphemed the Government"
Having settled the cause of his arrest, he
gradually fell into state of dull, drowsy
half-unconsciousness staring blindly IN the
darkness, listening vacantlyin the vain hope
of catching some sound, however faint of
that outside world he had so recently left.
The silence was complete as the darkness
that surrounded him, and hours passed with
out bringing any change. Now and then a
mufied sound reached his ears. Was it
footstep in the passage? Was it wave
little higher than the others? Was it only
the plaintive cry of the sea-mew? Or was
it the dying gasp of fellow prisoner? He
could not tell. After very long time, of
which he could not even guess the length,
he distinctly heard noise as of bolts and
keys withdrawn at his prison door; sudden
ly it opened, and flood of light Illuminated
every corner CT his dismal cell. Dazzled at
first by the glare of the torches, he could
not see the men by whom they were carried;
but gradually, as his eyes got accustomed to
the light, he saw they were all armed, all
masked and all dressed in black. In the
meantime his hands had been released from
their letters, and his guards had quietly
surrounded him. Without word, without
a sound. they led him On in their midst.
Through dark halls and narrow staircases,
through crooked passages and low beetling
doors they marched as noiselessly as group
of ghosts surrounding mortal man.
At last their goal is reached; door is
flung open, and Sir John is ushered into
spacious room. At one end, on a raised
platform, sit the judges. all masked, all
draped in large black cloaks. BY their sides
but little lower down, are the scribes of
this silent tribunal. Judges and scribes as
motionless as if they had been statues, and
not human beings The first glimpses of
dawn struggling through the painted win
dows, powerless as yet to supersede the wax
candles, gave to the whole scene the most
weird aspect. Outside, all was sleeping; and
no sound reached the inmates of this hall
to remind them that powerful city, nu-
merous population, surrounded their silent
abode.
AS soon as the several actors in this
strange scene had reached their proper
places, man still masked, and dressed in
the same dark hue, began in a monotonous
slow tone to give his evidence. Though
muffied by the folds of his mask, his voice
was peculiarly distinct and clear, and Sir
John at once knew it as being the same he
ilttu DCdAu NilSI1 liz was dlltotCu. COlu ana
pitiless as steel, without tremor and with
out a pause. the voice repeated all the words
used by the culprt when, in his rash burst
OF passion, he had derided and Knocked the
knowledge and the power of the Serenissma.
Slowly and regularly the wordsfollowed each
toher as the links of alengthenedc chain, stead
lily as the drops of rain on winters day, The
pens Of the scribes, creaking as they hurried
over the paper, made a fit accompaniment
to his recital. Except for them, all was as
motionless, as still as if no human hearts
were beating under those black silk nantes.
1t ended at last, and, with sense of relief,
Sir John strained his senses to see, to hear
what would follow.
After short pause, the Judge, who sat at
the center of the table stood up and adj
dressed him in these terms: You have
heard the evidence against you; now follow
us and hear your sentence"
No cross-examination, no defense was al
lowed by the laws of this Council. Rising
together as if moved by single mind, the
funeral procession followed its leader, and
LETT the hall by the door through which Sir
John had entered it. Again through the
same winding passages, again down the same
narrow steps, silently and noiselessly they
gided like ghosts returning to their graves.
Surrounded by his guards, Sir John followed
Immediately after the last of the Judges,
wondering all the time what was to be his
fate. When they had reached the lowest
floor of the building, and were nearing again
the loathsome cell from which he had so
lately been taken, the cortege divided, and
Sir John was brought face TO face with the
senior Judge.
"You have insuted the Serenissima; you
have denied its power of Furnishing crime,
because you have been robbed of a paltry
handkerchief, and it had not been immedi.
ately found and given back to you. Now,
looke' As he said these last words the
masked Judge stepped on one side and di-
rected Sir Johns gaze to darker corner
OF the dark passage. There, hanging against
the wall, the rope that encircled his neck
disappearing through the stone, was the
corpse of man.
Entranced by this sight, and thinking that
perhaps he also was going to be hanged in
the same manner by an unseen hand, Sir
John felt rooted TO the spot.
After short silence, the Judge continued:
This man was the thief; in his right
hand you will find your handkerchief. Take
it. As for you, we ought not perhaps to be
so lenient; but in consideration of your