Excellency."

"Who searched him?"

"One of the guards."

"Did you see him do it?"

"It was done under my own eyes."

"And you will swear that these comprise all the papers he had on his
person?"

"I swear it, Excellency."

The prince was more confused at this than he was before, for if he had
not taken it at the time of his arrest who could have done so?

He dared make no explanation to the jailer, for he knew him to be a
loyal man, and one of the fiercest persecutors of the Nihilists in the
Czar's official household. And yet he half believed that he had secured
the correspondence, and was withholding it for a purpose against him.

Finally he said:

"Conduct me to the prisoner's cell."

"This way, Excellency," and he led him to the stout and heavily-grated
door.

"Now leave us," and the officer retired.

Prince Mastowix glanced up and down the dimly-lighted corridor to make
sure that no one was in sight, and then he spoke.

"William Barnwell," and the young man quickly leaped to his feet and
went to the bars.

"Who is it?" he asked, eagerly.

"The man who sent you here."

"Then you are a rascal," replied Barnwell; and it was fortunate for the
tyrant that he was protected by the iron grating, or he would have been
clutched by the throat.

"Careful, young man. I may have acted hastily in your case."

"Yes, and unjustly."

"Well, wrongs may be righted."

"Then let me out of this horrible dungeon."

"I will, on one condition."

"Name it."

"That you tell me whether you took that paper again which you brought me
from New York."

"No, sir; I never saw it after I gave it to you," replied Barnwell. "You
held it in your hand when I was dragged from your office."

The prince now remembered that this was true, and it made the mystery
even greater than before.

He turned to go.

"But your promise?" said Barnwell.

"Bah!" was the only reply he received, and the next moment he was alone
again.

A mocking laugh came from the opposite cell-door grating, and naturally
the abandoned youth looked in the direction.

But the face he saw between the bars was hideous enough to make his
blood almost curdle.

How old that face was, of what nationality, of what grade of intellect,
he could not tell, for his face was in the shade of that dark place.

Again came the mocking laugh, as young Barnwell stood looking and
wondering.

"Who are you?" he finally asked.

That laugh again, and Barnwell conc