cent persons who have proved themselves
obnoxious to the corrupt bureaucracy.

We had two hours to wait in Petrograd, locked in one of the waiting-rooms
where we were at last given a hunk of bread and a piece of cold meat.
Then we were driven out to Schluesselburg in a motor-car, arriving there
in the grey break of dawn and being conveyed by boat to the grim
red-brick fortress which rose from the lake.

Stepping from the boat on to the floating landing-stage we were conducted
by armed warders through the iron gate and along innumerable stone
corridors where, ever and anon, we passed other warders--men who,
criminals themselves, spent their lives in the fortress and were never
allowed to land in order that they might not reveal the terrible secrets
of that modern Bastille. Those who would form a proper opinion of our
Empire should remember that this horrible prison was at the disposal of
each of the Ministers and their sycophants, and that hundreds of entirely
innocent people of both sexes had for years been sent there out of
personal spite or jealousy, and also in the furtherance of Germany's aims
for the coming war.

Within those dark, gloomy walls, where many of the dimly lit cells were
below the lake, hundreds of patriotic Russians had ended their lives,
their only offence being that they had been too true to their Emperor and
their own land!

Ever since my childhood I had been taught to regard Schluesselburg as an
inferno--a place from which no victim of our corrupt bureaucracy had ever
emerged. Only His Excellency the Governor and the under-Governor had for
years landed from that island fortress. To all others communication with
the outside world was strictly forbidden. Hence I was fully aware that
now I had set foot in the hateful place my identity had become lost, and
only death was before me.

And such deeds were being done in the name of the Tsar!

At the time I believed in His Majesty, feeling that he was in ignorance
of the truth. Nowadays I know that he was, all the time, fully aware of
the crimes committed in his name. Hence, I have no sympathy with the
Imperial family, and have welcomed its well-deserved downfall.

Into a small room where sat an official in uniform I was ushered, and
later, after waiting an hour, was compelled to sign the big
leather-bound register of prisoners. Already my crime had evidently been
written down in a neat official hand, yet I was given no opportunity to
read it.

"