“What I have just heard read,” I said as calmly as I could, “scarcely surprises me. It bears out all I have been told as to the methods of the Russian Government. Their game is clear. When they want to get hold of a harmless Russian Socialist who has been arrested in a constitutional country they will not allow that he is the person he claims to be, but give him the name of someone implicated in a serious crime. This is nothing new. For example, Rumania was induced in this way to deliver up a certain Katz, who was then immediately exiled to Siberia by ‘administrative methods,’ as is said in Russia, that is, without any judicial process. Evidently they are doing just the same in my case. The best proof of this lies in this document itself. You see there that the Government not only demands the extradition of Deutsch, but also of Stefanòvitch, although the latter was long ago arrested in Russia and sent to penal servitude in the Siberian mines, and although his complicity in the attempt against Gorinòvitch never came into question at his trial. It is plain that the extradition of Stefanòvitch is asked for in order that on the next opportunity some peaceful Socialist may be claimed as being he. What I am telling you would be confirmed by Professor Thun, who not only is acquainted with Russian ways, but has particularly studied our revolutionary movement.”
This ended the interview. When I was back in my cell, and could collect my thoughts, I felt completely crushed. My extradition seemed certain, and escape my only hope. But that this hope was futile I quickly discovered. Following the Russian Government’s warning as to my having often broken out of prison before (as a matter of fact I had done so twice),[[18]] a special warder was now posted at my door, with instructions not to stir from the spot, and to watch my every movement. The other warders also were told to keep an eye on me, and—what had never happened before—the chief inspector, Roth, had been present at the interview described above.
Soon after midday I was again taken before the Public Prosecutor. This time he seemed more graciously inclined, and treated me with as near an approach to geniality as could be expected from such an arid man of law. He informed me that Professor Thun had endorsed my description of Russian judicial proceedings; and he then continued, “It is possible that an injustice is being done you in ascribing to you the crime spoken of in the communication of the Russian Government, and I am prepared to assist you in defending yourself. You must understand that in Germany it is no part of a Public Prosecutor’s duties to pass sentence, but he has to get at the truth, and to discharge persons who are unjustly accused. Give me any particulars that would tend to exonerate you, and I will do what I can for you.”
This change in the behaviour of the Public Prosecutor was evidently owing to Professor Thun’s influence. I knew quite well that there was not much left to hope for now, but I saw I should try to make use of Herr von Berg’s more favourable attitude to gain a little time. If my extradition could be delayed I might yet find some opportunity of escape. So I gratefully accepted the Public Prosecutor’s offer, and begged him to let me have an opportunity of consultation with my lawyer and the official translator, as I myself had no acquaintance with the forms of German law. Meanwhile, I said, I could tell him at once how I hoped to prove I was not Deutsch; I had reason to believe that he was in London, and if my friends there could find him, he would no doubt be quite willing to give his testimony in my behalf. (I was hoping, with the help of Professor Thun, to arrange that one of the Russian refugees in London should play the part of Deutsch, i.e. of myself.)
Herr von Berg informed me that the granting of this request lay with the Minister of Justice, to whom he would apply; and with this our interview terminated.
Events now took on a lively pace. Before this I had sometimes had weeks to wait between the acts of my drama, and had often longed for the next hearing, that I might at least know what was going on. Now, however, things went faster than I cared for. The next day I was again called before the Public Prosecutor. This time, with Herr von Berg, his clerk, and inspector Roth, who stood sentinel at the door, I found a man, strange to me, dressed in the uniform of a Russian officer of justice, with a glittering order in his buttonhole.
“Good morning, Deutsch! Don’t you know me?” asked the unknown in Russian, with an agreeable smile. “I am the Deputy Public Prosecutor in the Petersburg Court of Appeal. My name is Bogdanòvitch, and you must remember me, for I was Deputy Public Prosecutor in Kiëv when you were a prisoner there.”
“I have never been in prison at Kiëv; and I have not the pleasure of knowing you,” I answered quietly. And indeed I had never set eyes on the gentleman before.
“There is no doubt about it, he is Deutsch,” said Bogdanòvitch, turning to his German colleagues.