"Hulloa!" they laughed. "Who are you?"—and one of the men raised his sword to strike me, whilst another held him back, exclaiming, "Let us hear what he has to say!"
"Then listen!" I said, drawing from my pocket book a folded paper. "Read this, and look well at the signature. I am a British subject, and this girl is under my protection!"—and I handed to the man who held little Luba in his arms my permit to travel hither and thither in Russia, which the Ambassador in London had signed for me.
The men, astounded at my announcement, read the document beneath the lamp-light and took counsel among themselves.
"And who, pray, is this Jewess?" inquired one.
"My affianced wife," was my quick reply. "And I command you at once to take us under safe conduct to General Krasiloff—quickly, without delay. We took refuge in this place from the Revolution, in which we have taken no part."
I saw, however, with sinking heart, that one of the men was examining the bomb-maker's bench, and had recognised the character of what remained there.
He looked at us, smiled grimly, and whispered something to one of his companions.
Again in an authoritative tone I demanded to be taken to Krasiloff, and presently, after being marched as prisoners across the town, past scenes so horrible that they are still vividly before my eyes, we were taken into the chief police-office, where the hated official, a fat red-faced man in a general's uniform—the man without pity or remorse, the murderer of women and children—was sitting at a table. He greeted me with a grunt.
"General," I said, addressing him, "I have to present to you this order of your Ambassador, and to demand safe conduct. Your soldiers found me and my——"
I hesitated.