In that instant I had caught a glimpse of a white face. Page [102]
CHAPTER XV
AN UNPLEASANT EXPERIENCE
With the handkerchief in my hand, I started running wildly after the fast disappearing droshky, only to fall plump into the arms of a surly gendarme, a Muscovite giant, who collared me with one hand, while he drew his revolver with the other, and brandished it as if he was minded to bash my face in with the butt end, a playful little habit much in vogue with the Russian police.
“Let me go. I’m all right; I’m an American,” I cried indignantly. “I must follow that droshky!”
It was out of sight by this time, and he grunted contemptuously. But he put up his weapon, and contented himself with hauling me off to the nearest bureau, where, in spite of my protestations, I was searched from head to foot roughly enough, and all the contents of my pockets annexed, as well as the handkerchief. Then I was unceremoniously thrust into a filthy cell, and left there, in a state of rage and humiliation that can be better imagined than described. I seemed to have been there for half a lifetime, though I found afterwards it was only about two hours, when I was fetched out, and brought before the chief of the bureau,—a pompous and truculent individual, with shifty bead-like eyes.
My belongings lay on the desk before him,—with the exception of my loose cash, which I never saw again.