forget and condemn him for failing to keep his word, not
knowing why did did not keep it?

One day when he went to the cell occupied by old Batavsky, he found him
unexpectedly low and evidently very ill; in fact, he was nearly
unconscious.

Barnwell at once sprang to his side.

"Are you ill, sir? Speak to me."

The old man opened his eyes slowly when he caught him by the hand, but
he did not speak, and Barnwell went at once and reported the case to the
chief surgeon, and asked for some brandy for him.

"No; let him die! he cannot live much longer anyway," was the brutal
reply.

"But I am getting along so nicely in learning the language of him---"

"Oh, well, take him some brandy, then."

Without losing a moment he hastened back to the old man with a cup of
brandy.

"Here, sir, take some of this, and it will make you feel better," said
he, raising his head tenderly, so as to enable him to do so.

Batavsky allowed him to place the cup to his lips, and he drank several
swallows of the strong liquor, after which he lay down again.

"Thank you, my son."

"Do you feel better, sir?"

"Yes; it warms my old blood a trifle. It was very kind of you to get it
for me, but I shall not tax your kindness much longer," he said, with a
sigh.

"It is no tax to do a helpless person a kindness," replied young man.

"True, but I am so unused to kindness. Yet I am glad you came to me
to-day, for knowing I have but a short time to live, I wish to confide a
secret to you."

"Are you strong enough to talk? Take another sip of the brandy."

"Thank you, my son; keep it, for it may enable me to tell my story
through, but I could not do so without it. The secret I am about to
transmit to your keeping has been my secret for nearly forty years. I
have hoped and hoped for thirty-five of those years that I should escape
in some way, but the hope is finally dead in me, and I transfer it to
you, who are full of life, youth, strength, and hope.

"After I am dead, be it the ambition of your life to get away from this
accursed place."

"Doubt not it shall be, sir."

"And should it be your misfortune not to be able to do so, promise me
that before you die you will transmit the secret to some intelligent
Nihilist, in the hope that he may succeed."

"I promise you, sir, and I will exact a like promise from him if you
wish it."

"It shall be yours to judge, my son. As I have stated to you at
different times, I was betrayed by Mastow