em both. Come. Ah, poor Boris, he's with
Zina now!"

The bomb was a section of iron pipe about two inches in diameter and
eighteen inches long. Its ends were closed with iron caps. Filled
with nitroglycerine, such pipes are terrible shells, which explode by
concussion. I was amazed to think of the recklessness of Boris in
tapping them together.

"Put them down, Verbitzsky!" I whispered, as we groped our way between
high walls of bales.

"No, no, they're weapons!" he whispered. "We may need them."

"Then for the love of the saints, be careful!"

"Don't be afraid," he said, as we neared a small side door.

Meantime, we heard the police run after the Terrorists, who brought up
against the great door at the south end. As they tore away the bar and
opened the door they shouted with dismay. They had been confronted by
another squad of police! For a few moments a confusion of sounds came
to us, all somewhat muffled by passing up and over the high walls of
baled wool.

"Boris! Where are you?" cried one.

"He's killed!" cried another.

"Oh, if we had the bombs!"

"He gave them to Verbitzsky."

"Verbitzsky, where are you? Throw them! Let us all die together!"

"Yes, it's death to be taken!"

Then we heard shots, blows, and shrieks, all in confusion. After a
little there was clatter of grounded arms, and then no sound but the
heavy breathing of men who had been struggling hard. That silence was
a bad thing for Verbitzsky and me, because the police heard the
opening of the small side door through which Alexander next moment
led. In a moment we dashed out into the clear night, over the tracks,
toward the Petrovsky Gardens.

As we reached the railway yard the police ran round their end of the
wool-shed in pursuit--ten of them. The others stayed with the
prisoners.

"Don't fire! Don't shoot!" cried a voice we knew well,--the voice of
Dmitry Nolenki, chief of the secret police.

"One of them is Verbitzsky!" he cried to his men. "The conspirator
I've been after for four months. A hundred roubles for him who first
seizes him! He must be taken alive!"

That offer, I suppose, was what pushed them to such eagerness that
they all soon felt themselves at our mercy. And that offer was what
caused them to follow so silently, lest other police should overhear a
tumult and run to head us off.

Verbitzsky, though encumbered by the bombs, kept the lead, for he was
a very swift runner. I followed close at his heels. We could