"Perdition catch me, but this is dreadful. What can have become of that document?" he mused, as he threw himself into his chair. "Who could have taken it? I have only one person about me who can read English, and he is not here to-day," and again he began searching for the fatal paper.
All to no purpose, though, of course, and he finally convinced himself that it was neither in his office nor about his person.
"Curses on my luck, for if that correspondence is found out, it means death or Siberia to me. Could that American have regained it without my seeing him do it? Great Scott!" he suddenly exclaimed, and hurried to the Bastile.
The possibility of Barnwell's having secured the document did not make the prince's case any the better. Indeed, it was probably worse, for the captain of the Bastile may have searched him and secured it himself.
Such fears as these hurried him onward, until he reached the prison where Barnwell was confined, and he instantly summoned the captain.
"The prisoner I sent here but now?"
"He is in a cell down below."
"Did you search him?"
"I did."
"What did you find?" he asked, anxiously.