mapped out his line of defence.
He would prove that he had innocently walked into a trap, set for him by
a band of conspirators, who had planned to assassinate the Czar, and
that he had used every argument to dissuade them from their murderous
project. He would prove that he had firmly refused to join their ranks,
and that he had been obliged to use his pistol in his effort to escape
from their midst.

Prove it? How? A little reflection showed him that he had no proofs
whatever and that he was absolutely powerless to defend himself against
any charges that they might bring. Wearied with his vain exertions and
furious at his helplessness, he threw himself upon the sofa. As he
became calmer he began to reflect upon his situation.

Slowly the hours passed without affording relief. About noon Pomeroff
heard the key turn in the lock and an instant later the apartment was
filled with officers of the _gendarmerie_.

The Chief of Police, Polatschek, was the first to break the silence.

"I regret, your excellency," he said, sadly, "that I am obliged to take
this step against one who has been my friend and benefactor, but the
Czar's orders are imperative. You will consider yourself my prisoner."

"Of what am I accused?" asked the Governor.

"You are accused of associating with Nihilists and of being at the
present time involved in a plot to take the Czar's life."

"It is false," cried Pomeroff.

"We will hear your defence in due time," answered Polatschek. "In the
meantime it becomes my unpleasant duty to search your desk and closets
for Nihilistic papers, which the deposition accuses you of having in
your possession."

Pomeroff smiled bitterly.

"Search, gentlemen. The absence of such documents will, I hope, convince
you that I am innocent of this outrageous charge."

"Nothing will give me greater pleasure than to see you vindicated," said
the Chief, politely, as he gave orders to ransack the drawers and
receptacles of the Governor's writing-desk.

Alas, poor Pomeroff! Almost the first roll of papers examined proved of
a most damaging nature, being the rules of an association of Nihilists
in St. Petersburg. A further search revealed plans of a dynamite mine to
be laid beneath the imperial palace at the capital.

In vain were all the Governor's denials. Never was proof of guilt more
complete and convincing, and Polatschek, who was almost as much unnerved
by the discovery as the prisoner, reluctantly gave orders to