Tom.

"They won't do anything to that right away," declared the Russian in a
whisper for he knew sometimes the police listened to the talk of
prisoners. "I think, from what I overheard when they arrested us, that
we either trespassed on the grounds of some one in authority, who had
us taken in out of spite, or they fear we may be English or French
spies, seeking to find out Russian secrets."

They were served with food in their prison, but to all inquiries made
by Ivan Petrofsky, evasive answers were returned. He spoke in poor,
broken Russian, so that he would not be taken for a native of that
country. Had he been, he would have at once been in great danger of
being accused as an escaped exile.

Finally a man who, the exile whispered to his Companions, was the local
governor, came to their prison. He eagerly asked questions as to their
mission, and Mr. Petrofsky answered them diplomatically.

"I don't think he'll make much out of what I told him," said the exile
when the governor had gone. "I let him think we were scientists, or
pleasure seekers, airshipping for our amusement. He tried to tangle me
up politically, but I knew enough to keep out of such traps."

"What's going to become of us?" asked Ned.

"We will be detained a few days--until they find out more about us.
Their spies are busy, I have no doubt, and they are telegraphing all
over Europe about us."

"What about my airship?" asked Tom.

"I spoke of that," answered the exile. "I said you were a well-known
inventor of the United States, and that if any harm came to the craft
the Russian Government would not only be held responsible, but that the
governor himself would be liable, and I said that it cost much money.
That touched him, for, in spite of their power, these Russians are
miserably paid. He didn't want to have to make good, and if it
developed that he had made a mistake in arresting us, his superiors
would disclaim all responsibility, and let him shoulder the blame. Oh,
all is not lost yet, though I don't like the looks of things."

Indeed it began to seem rather black for our friends, for, that night
they were taken from the fairly comfortable, large, prison room, and
confined in small stone cells down in a basement. They were separated,
but as the cells adjoined on a corridor they could talk to each other.
With some coarse food, and a little water, Tom and his friends were
left alone.

"Say I don't like this!" cried our hero, after a paus