or numbers quickly gained the
mastery, and after a short struggle Pomeroff lay helpless upon the
floor.

Then one of the students took a vial of chloroform from his pocket.
Seizing a napkin he saturated it with the liquid and applied it to the
nostrils of the prostrated man. In a few minutes the victim was
insensible.

"Flee for your lives!" ordered Martinski, "we have not a moment to lose.
It is fortunate that the shot has not already brought the police down
upon us. We must carry the Governor at once to his palace. Drentell, you
will pass the night with me."

Under cover of a dark and cloudy night Pomeroff was carried to his home,
and with the assistance of his secretary, Moleska, was carefully placed
upon the couch in his private cabinet.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 14: Stepniak.]

CHAPTER XXII.

A MODERN BRUTUS.

When Pomeroff awoke next morning, he rubbed his eyes sleepily and looked
about him.

"By St. Nicholas, I have had a horrible dream," he muttered. "I must
have slept on this couch all night."

On attempting to rise, however, he felt a soreness in every limb and the
events of the preceding night flashed through his mind. Instantly his
face became grave.

"Can it be that I have not been dreaming after all; that I was really in
the lair of the Nihilists? Bah, it must be a mistake!"

He arose with difficulty and opened the window. It was a glorious day.
The birds were chirping merrily in the trees that shaded the courtyard,
but though the sun was high there were no signs of the usual activity
below.

"It must be early," mused the Governor; "no one is stirring. What!" he
cried, looking at his watch, "ten o'clock! There is something wrong."

He crossed the room and tried to open the door leading to the
ante-chamber. It was locked. He tried a smaller door leading to the rear
of the palace. It, too, was locked and resisted his efforts to open it.

With a cry of anger and surprise, Pomeroff exclaimed:

"This is carrying the farce to extremes. So I am a prisoner in my own
house! Can it be that they will carry out their diabolical threats and
have me tried as a suspect? Nonsense! I will subvert their plans and
turn the tables on them."

He rang the bell violently, but there was no response. As a last resort
he hurled his whole weight against the oaken door, but it remained
immovable.

It appeared probable to him that his enemies would carry out their
threat of accusing him, and he carefully