"Paul Zobriskie is the greatest terror that Russian tyranny knows. He is a bugbear; but why should he be in correspondence with Prince Mastowix?"
"I know nothing about it."
"There is a mystery somewhere," mused the man.
"If there is, I know nothing about it."
"Were I at liberty, I would take pains to find out what this mystery is."
"But how can they hold me?"
"By the right of might; just as they hold me. Once in their clutches, there is no escape. Even were you known to be innocent of any crime, it would make no difference. The innocent and the guilty are treated alike in Russia. There is no liberty–no justice in the land. But the time will come when the Nihilists will shake the tyranny out of the empire with dynamite!" said he, fiercely.
"Silence, slaves!" cried a rough voice near by, and the next instant the burly form of a keeper stood between them. "Nineteen, you have already made trouble enough. You must have the knout," and unlocking the door of his cell, he seized him by the hair of the head and dragged him out and down through the corridor.
Two minutes later the blood was almost curdled in Barnwell's veins by the shrieking of that same poor wretch, undergoing punishment.
But he was not brought back to his cell, and what became of him Barnwell never knew.