“You’ll answer for this,” he cried angrily.
“That’s exactly what I’ve ridden back for. Your fellows at that cottage took my money and papers; so, as soon as I had done what I set out to do, I rode back. On my way I came to this priest here; as he knows I am an Englishman; and instead of helping me, he arranged for my arrest. You Russian Poles are a nice friendly Christian people, the whole lot of you.”
“Where were you going?”
“Why to Bratinsk, of course—where the rest of my things are and I am well enough known to borrow money until I can get some from England.”
“A likely story,” he sneered.
“You needn’t believe it. Your sneers don’t affect me a kopeck. This particular episode being closed I am going back to my hunting at Bratinsk.”
“You’ll find the episode, as you call it, isn’t closed. You’ll have to answer for it and must come with me.”
“I haven’t the least objection now.”
He thanked Father Ambrose again and we left the house. They walked one on each side of me, and one of the villagers led my horse. In this way I was marched to the police quarters of the village—just a cottage, pretty much like that of an ordinary county policeman at home.
There he wanted to catechize me afresh about Volna; but I stopped him. “I shall say nothing about that and nothing more about myself. I am ready to go wherever you please to take me, and having no longer any reason to resist, will do what you wish. You know who I am, because you saw my papers at Bratinsk before any of this fuss occurred. Take me to your superiors and I’ll convince them in half an hour that the sooner I am at liberty again, the better for all concerned.”