Indeed, he understood now that exile to Siberia was like suddenly sinking into the earth or the sea, never to be seen or heard of again.
The particulars of his case were, however, reported to the secretary of the governor of Siberia, and through him to the governor, who, for some reason or other, became interested to such a degree that he ordered the presumptuous prisoner brought before him.
When taken from his loathsome cell, young Barnwell did not know, did not care what his fate was to be. He was so stiff that he could scarcely walk, and the doing so caused him great pain.
He was marched to the governor's palace by two armed guards, and presently taken into his presence.
But he was far from being the handsome-looking youth he was before he fell into the hands of Russian tyrants, although, in spite of his badly lacerated back, he still maintained his erect carriage and independent bearing.
The governor looked at him for a moment and then spoke to him in Russian, but Barnwell shook his head. Then he spoke German, but he did not understand that.
"English," said he.
"Oh, you are an Englishman–eh?" asked the governor, who appeared to be the master of many languages.
"No, sir; I am an American," replied Barnwell indignantly.
"What brings you here?"