length, however, he became aware that he was
watched; the manner of some of his Russian friends grew inquiring and
constrained; he received private warnings, and perceived that he was
dogged by the police. It was not too late for flight, but he knew that
such a course would involve all who were in his secret, and perhaps
thousands of others, in tribulation, and that for their sakes it
behooved him to await the terrible day of reckoning which was
inevitably approaching. The only use to which he could turn this time
of horrible suspense was in concerting a plan of action with his
colleagues. His final interview with the chief of them took place in a
church at the close of the short winter twilight on the last day of
the year. After agreeing on all the points which they could foresee,
they solemnly took leave of each other, and Piotrowski was left alone
in the church, where he lingered to pray fervently for strength for
the hour that was at hand.

The next morning at daybreak he was suddenly shaken by the arm: he
composed himself for the part he was to play, and slowly opened his
eyes. His room was filled with Russian officials: he was arrested. He
protested against the outrage to a British subject, but his papers
were seized, he was carried before the governor of the place, and
after a brief examination given into the custody of the police.

[Illustration: THE ARREST.]

He was examined on several successive days, but persisted in his first
story, although aware that his identity was known, and that the
information had come from St. Petersburg. His object was to force the
authorities to confront him with those who had been accused on his
account, that they might hear his confession and regulate their own
accordingly. One day a number of them were brought together--some his
real accomplices, others mere acquaintance. After the usual routine of
questions and denials, Piotrowski suddenly exclaimed in Polish, as one
who can hold out no longer, "Well, then, yes! I am no British subject,
but a Pole of the Ukraine. I emigrated after the revolution of 1831: I
came back because I could bear a life of exile no longer, and I only
wished to breathe my native air. I came under a false name, for I
could not have come in my own. I confided my secret to a few of my
countrymen, and asked their aid and advice: I had nothing else to ask
or tell them."

[Illustration: CROSSING THE COURTYARD OF THE PRISON.]

The preliminary interrogator