I was still in this mood of self-torturing apprehension, trying vainly to get to sleep and shake off the horrors of it when my cell door was opened and two warders entered. By the lantern which one carried I saw two other figures in the gloom beyond, and I jumped to the conclusion that the time for my knouting had been put forward.
“This is the prisoner.” I recognized the governor’s voice.
The warder’s lantern flashed to my face, and out of the gloom came a sonorous “Good God!” Then some one rushed forward and took my hands. “My dear boy, what in the name of heaven and earth does all this mean?”
It was my old friend, General von Eckerstein; and as I felt the grasp of his hands I closed my eyes with a deep, deep sigh of intense thankfulness.
“There has been a bad mistake, that’s all,” I said, scarcely knowing what I said or did for the moment. The sense of relief was so intense as to be almost overpowering. I found myself laughing fatuously.
“This is your friend, General?” asked the governor.
“Why, of course it is. It’s the most extraordinary thing in the world. Why on earth didn’t you send for me before?”
“I tried to, but—I had better explain everything.”
“He has proved himself a very dangerous and desperate man, General,” said the governor. “Will you answer for him?”
“Answer for him? Yes; with my life, man. Can you let me see him privately? I’m lost in amazement.”