“I believe he is, or a near relative. The post was given him as a sort of reward for his successful mission to France. There’s a fine salary attached to it.”
The thought that he was to be put into the power of his enemy, Baranoff, was a somewhat disquieting one to Wilfrid. A dark cell and irons was the least merciful punishment he could expect from the malignant governor.
Wilfrid’s position seemed to weigh little with the chatty lieutenant; for, as they marched along, he took upon himself to point out to his prisoner various buildings of note, thinking, perhaps, that as Wilfrid was not long for this world, it would be a pity for him to pass out of it without taking with him some knowledge of so fine a city. “See Petersburg, and then die,” was evidently his motto. And as it is better to be cheerful than gloomy, Wilfrid tried to take an interest in the proffered remarks.
“And what place is this?” he asked, as they passed by a wide, open space.
“This is known as the Red Square.”
“And that hillock in the centre——?”
“Is where the condemned criminal stands.”
“And the wooden pillar——?”
“The post to which he is tied while receiving the knout.”