ed with a strong recommendation to mercy.

"Have you anything to say?" asked the judge before pronouncing sentence.

Kalmar, who had been deeply impressed by the judge's manner during
his charge to the jury, searched his face a moment and then, as if
abandoning all hope of mercy, drew himself erect and in his stilted
English said: "Your Excellency, I make no petition for mercy. Let
the criminal make such a plea. I stand convicted of crime, but I
am no criminal. The traitor, the thief, the liar, the murderer,
the criminal, sits there." As he spoke the word, he swung sharply
about and stood with outstretched arm and finger pointing to
Rosenblatt. "I stand here the officer of vengeance. I have failed.
Vengeance will not fail. The day is coming when it will strike."
Then turning his face toward the group of foreigners at the back
of the room he raised his voice and in a high monotone chanted a
few sentences in the Russian tongue.

The effect was tremendous. Every Russian could be picked out by his
staring eyes and pallid face. There was a moment's silence, then a
hissing sound as of the breath drawn sharply inward, followed by a
murmur hoarse and inhuman, not good to hear. Rosenblatt trembled,
started to his feet, vainly tried to speak. His lips refused to
frame words, and he sank back speechless.

"What the deuce was he saying?" enquired O'Hara of the Interpreter
after the judge had pronounced his solemn sentence.

"He was putting to them," said the Interpreter in an awed whisper,
"the Nihilist oath of death."

"By Jove! Good thing the judge didn't understand. The bloody fool
would have spoiled all my fine work. He would have got a life term
instead of fourteen years. He's got enough, though, poor chap. I
wish to Heaven the other fellow had got it."

As the prisoner turned with the officer to leave the dock, a wild
sobbing fell upon his ear. It was Paulina. Kalmar turned to the judge.

"Is it permitted that I see my children before--before I depart?"

"Certainly," said the judge quickly. "Your wife and children and
your friends may visit you at a convenient hour to-morrow."

Kalmar bowed with grave courtesy and walked away.

Beside the sobbing Paulina sat the children, pale and bewildered.

"Where is my father going?" asked the boy in Russian.

"Alas! alas! We shall see him no more!" sobbed Paulina.

Quickly the boy's voice rang out, shrill with grief and terror,
"Father! father! Come back!"

The prisoner