Chapter II: Part 2

"'Of this, gaoler--that I, a prisoner condemned to be shot at dawn, have not yet received a visit from any spiritual adviser? Even in Spain, I believe, a prisoner condemned to die has a right to spiritual consolation.' My speech, I daresay, sounded more like a reprimand than a request; but it made none the less impression upon that account. Why should it have? In all situations in life the way to secure deference is to be peremptory. My severity compelled politeness.

"'Of course, if his Excellency desires to see a priest----'

"'Certainly, gaoler,' I answered. 'Certainly I want to see a priest. And the sooner the better. Be so good as to tell one of the priests to step this way at once.'

"He had already started, when I called him back.

"'And, look here, gaoler, I'm very particular about priests. I can't accept consolation from a little priest. I must have a big one.'

"The gaoler stared at me, evidently believing that I was mad. But there was method in my madness, as you will see. I added, producing some notes from a pocket which, in their merriment over my uniform, the Spaniards had quite forgotten to search--

"'You see, my man, I'm in a position to reward you if you carry out this wish of mine.'

"He laughed an unpleasant laugh and left me. I waited with such patience as I could command, knowing that it might take some time to find a priest whose physical proportions were equal to my own. The sun had set, in fact, before the door of my cell reopened, and my gaoler, to whom I promptly handed the reward which I had promised him, ushered in a tall friar, habited in the flowing robes of the Dominican Order.

"I bowed to him with that courtesy which, I trust, has always distinguished me in dealing with my equals, even when they also happen to be my enemies.

"'I regret, my father,' I said, 'having to receive you in so unworthy an apartment. Nothing but the most stern necessity compels me.'

"The speech surprised him. He had evidently expected a more abject attitude.

"'My son, the time is short,' he answered, 'and as I doubt not that your sins are many, it were well to waste none of it in idle words.'

"I watched him intently while he spoke, and took his measure. It was important, since the success of the great _coup_ that I projected depended wholly upon the nature of the man with whom I had to deal.

"He was tall, as I have said, but frail and spare of build. I read superstition in the shape of his forehead, which was high, and narrow. His thin lips, and the contour of his mouth, betokened that mixture of cruelty and weakness which has made the Spanish priest so widely hated, even in countries where there lingers no tradition of the sacred office. He was a man who would persecute if he dared. But his shifty eyes quailed before my glance, so that I felt sure that there was no real courage behind his cruelty.

"First of all, for the success of my plan, it was necessary that I should give him convincing demonstration of my superior physical powers. I made him feel the muscles of my arms.

"'There, my father,' I said to him. 'What think you of the cruelty which condemns a man in the prime of a strength like mine to be killed like a rat in a hole?'

"He was already beginning to be afraid of me, which was what I wanted; but his dignity did not yet forsake him.

"'It is the will of God,' he answered, 'and I am only here that you may make confession of your sins.'

"As he was speaking I had slowly advanced towards him. As a frightened man will, he had slunk back before me, so that I was almost pressing him against the walls in the corner of the cell farthest from the door. His eyes showed the vague terror that was coming over him. And then I said, sinking my voice to a whisper--

"'No, my father, you are not here to listen to my confession. You are here to save my life.'

"He made a movement as though he would cry for help, but with a menacing gesture I frightened him into silence, so that the sound died away, unuttered, in his throat.

"'Listen!' I went on, still in the same subdued tone of voice. 'I have made you see how strong I am. You know well that I can throttle you where you stand, long before any help can come to you. I shall do this if you make a single sound, and I shall still do it if you hesitate to obey the orders which I am about to give you. Now!'

"He made another movement, the faint beginning of a wriggle, as he thought that he might slip pass me like an eel. My hands approached his throat and he desisted. I went on--

"'It is a very simple thing that I require. In the first place, you will change clothes with me. If you are willing to do this, do not speak, but nod your head.'

"He stood there, pale and motionless, trying to find the courage to defy me.

"'My father,' I said, 'I can only give you while I count ten. One--two--three--four--five--six--seven--eight--nine----'

"He nodded.

"Undress, then,' I said. 'And mark me, if there is any noise, or any sign of hesitation----'

"This time he fully understood that I was in earnest and obeyed me. I hurried him, for there was always the chance that the gaoler might come back and interrupt us. In five minutes--or perhaps in less--the priest had put on my uniform, and I was attired in the black garb of the Dominican. But there was still one more little formality to be gone through.

"'My father,' I said, 'I might make you swear on your crucifix that you will stay here quietly until someone comes and finds you.'

"From the shifty look in his eyes I perceived that this was the very thing that he would be glad for me to do.

"'But,' I continued, 'the temptation to break your oath would be very terrible. It will be kinder not to expose you to it. So I shall gag you.'

"I improvised a gag by tearing a strip of cloth from my robes, and he submitted to have it thrust into his mouth. Then I said--

"'Good-bye, my father. In the years to come it will, perhaps, be a grateful memory to you that you have been instrumental in saving the life of Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.'

"And with that I opened the door with the key that had been left in it for my spiritual adviser's use, and locked it again carefully behind me, and strode silently, as though deep in meditation, down the passage. No one suspected anything, no one stopped me to ask a question. The prison gate was flung open wide for me by an obsequious attendant, and I was once more at liberty. I made straight for the hills and hid myself in the woods and waited for the dawn.

"It broke at last, with all the golden grandeur of the tropics; and I found that my hiding-place, though far away, commanded a view of the yard of the very prison in which I had been confined a few short hours before. There was a bustle and confusion there. A prisoner was being dragged, struggling violently, to the place of execution. He wore a uniform--my uniform. I understood.

"'My God! The gag in his mouth! He can't explain; they've mistaken him for me; they're shooting him instead of me.'

"My heart sank and I was ashamed. Though all be fair in war, yet I had not meant this, and knew that it was unworthy of me. I give you my word that, if I had been near enough, I would have stepped forward to save the priest and resigned myself to the soldiers' vengeance. I give you my word, too, that I shouted aloud with joy when the sudden firing of cannon and pealing of alarm bells told me that the Spaniards had found out their mistake in time, and that the search for me would now, at last, begin.

"'Courage!' I said to myself, and worked my way slowly and stealthily down the hillside, meaning to strike the bay at the point where I saw the British gunboat lying at anchor close alongside.

"Before I could get to it there was a short space of open ground to be traversed, and in that open space I saw no less a person than General Burriel himself, with armed orderlies in attendance, smoking his cigar, and enjoying the fresh morning air.

"There was nothing for it but to run the gauntlet of their fire, trusting for my safety in the inaccuracy of Spanish aim. I ran; they missed me; and a minute later, with the help of a rope that a bluejacket flung to me, I had scrambled on to the deck of the _Seamew_.

"The captain seemed surprised to see me; but I explained my presence in a few hot, hurried sentences.

"'I have escaped from the Santiago prison. They took me, in the _Washington_, in British waters. I am Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.'

"The captain rose to the occasion.

"'I don't care a hang who you are,' he replied politely, 'but if they took you in British waters, you're safe, till further notice, under the British flag.'

"And he maintained the same attitude when General Burriel himself approached and demanded my surrender, saying--

"'I want that man. That man is my prisoner.'

"The sailors had gripped their cutlasses; the marines had fixed their bayonets; and the captain of the _Seamew_ stepped forward and shouted with that magnificent Anglo-Saxon insolence which is the admiration of the world--

"'Your prisoner, is he? Then, hang it, sir, let's see you come aboard my ship and take him.'

"But this the Spaniards did not do. If they had failed to keep Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski in their prison when he was alone and friendless, still less could they recapture him when the whole might of the British Empire stood behind him."

THE HUNTED POLE.

"See!" cried Stromboli, as we strolled round the Earl's Court Exhibition. "These stories of ours are becoming popular. The circulation of the magazine increases. In order to inspire my creditors with confidence, I buy a copy for each one of them. But they are many. It will be necessary to raise the price of the stories, in order that a reasonable margin of profit may remain."

I suggested that he might find editors more amenable to argument, "if, for example," I said, "you have any story of especial interest----"

As usual, Stromboli interrupted me.

"A story of especial interest! When I tell you that I have been hunted, like a wild beast, by officers of the Third Section of the Chancellerie Imperiale----"

"What! The Russian secret police?"

"Precisely."

"That ought to do."

"You think so?"

"I am sure of it."

"Then I will begin at once."

So we found a quiet table by the artificial lake, and while the band played valses and selections from the comic operas, Stromboli possessed himself of a vast beaker of black German beer, and blew dark clouds of smoke, and proceeded with--

THE ADVENTURE OF THE HUNTED POLE.

"_Voyons_! It must have been some twenty years ago, when the bombs were going off in Russia! There was a notion--mistaken, as it proved--that a revolution could be brought about by means of them. Fired with enthusiasm, and having an idea for a bomb of a new sort, I threw a few necessaries, including a manifesto, into my portmanteau, and started for the scene of action. But I never reached it. The machinations of the police frustrated me. Let me draw you the picture of the moment when I first learnt that the emissaries of the Third Section were on my track.

"It was at Warsaw. I had arrived there late in the afternoon, and had dined well at the best hotel, toasting the cause silently in the sparkling wine of the Widow Clicquot. After the meal I strolled out into the street to smoke my cigar, contemplatively, by moonlight.

"The hour was late. Few loiterers were abroad except myself. But presently, after I had taken several turns, I became aware of a quick, stealthy step, as of a man from nowhere, following behind me, and heard a clear but subdued voice speaking to me.

"'Whatever you do, don't look round. Walk straight on, and listen to what I say. Is your name Kosnapulski?'

"'That is part of my name,' I answered, without turning my head. 'The full name is Jean Antoine Stromboli----'

"'Right! You're the man I'm looking for,' the stranger interrupted. 'But I mustn't speak to you here. Turn up the next side street and keep in the shadow.'

"I hesitated. It might be the greeting of a comrade, or it might be the trick of a vulgar assassin. I resolved to take the risk, and turned sharply to the left, the stranger following me into the dark.

"'Don't stop,' he continued, 'and don't answer, but listen to what I say.'

"So we walked on as though we did not know each other, and he talked to me as a man speaking to himself.

"'Kosnapulski must on no account go back to his hotel. The police are there, waiting to arrest him on his return. Kosnapulski knows best whether he desires to meet them; whether there is anything compromising in his portmanteau, for example----'

"'Heavens! My manifesto!' I ejaculated. 'I've signed it in full, Jean Antoine----'

"'Hush! You mustn't speak. The manifesto must be sacrificed. The better way will be to travel on foot to the Prussian frontier. I have a little parcel here, which I am placing on a window-ledge. When I have gone, come back and fetch it. It contains a few things that will help you on your way. Walk more slowly while I pass you, and then turn. Farewell!'

"He quickened his pace and glided by me--a cloaked and hooded figure. I gripped his hand silently as he passed me. It was the least--and the most--that I could do. Then I returned and found the little parcel resting in the place that he had indicated.

"I opened it in the darkest corner that I could find. It contained a false beard and a pair of spectacles, in which I disguised myself upon the spot; and a small handful of paper money, a note scrawled in pencil, which it was too dark to read; a flask of _vodki_, and a little bread and meat.

"Such was the whole of my provision for my pilgrimage. It was a terrible journey. I travelled only by night, hiding myself in the woods by day. But I need not dwell upon the details.

"My warning of peril was contained in the pencilled letter in which my mysterious friend had wrapped my bread and meat. I read it in the woods, while I was hiding in my disguise. I read it again by candle-light, in the first Prussian inn in which I found shelter after I had passed the frontier. Cheered and emboldened by generous draughts of Rhenish wine, I even went so far as to read it aloud in the _cafe_ of the inn.

"'Listen! my comrades,' I exclaimed. 'How many of you have ever received a letter of this sort? Admire the epistolary style of those who correspond with Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.'

"And I read--

"'Be on your guard! The Third Section means to have you. Its arm is long and it strikes unscrupulously. No country is so remote that it will not pursue you there. It will stoop to any means, even to poison and the dagger. This time I have warned you. Another time you may get no warning. If you would be safe, hide yourself until your name has been forgotten.'

"There was laughter at that, as you may guess, and a stamping of feet and a clapping of hands. I leapt upon a chair, and waved the precious missive above my head, and shouted in my exultation.

"'You see what happens. The cause prospers. Even in the Third Section itself the cause has found a friend who protects the leaders of the people.'

"They cheered me to the echo; for I was paying for the Rhenish wine. But the landlord's daughter--flaxen-haired Fraeulein Minna, who was serving the refreshments--plucked me by the sleeve and signed to me to follow her. I did so.

"'Suppose,' she said, 'there were a spy of the Third Section in the _cafe_!"

"'Show him to me,' I replied, 'I will undertake that he leaves quickly and with no desire whatever to return.'

"'I dare not--for reasons which I must not tell you. But suppose the spy telegraphed a few words in cipher to St. Petersburg.'

"'_Eh bien_! Suppose he did. What could St. Petersburg do then?'

"'Apply for your extradition on some trumped-up charge of theft.'

"'Then are there no judges in Germany?' I asked.

"'Why, yes. But they can be bribed,' was Fraeulein Minna's answer.

"'You've known that happen, little guardian angel?"

"She nodded slowly, with a look full of meaning in her eyes.

"Then I was frightened--as frightened, at least, as I have ever allowed myself to be. I began to realise the vast powers, the widespread nets, of that terrible Third Section; but I was to realise them still more vividly before many hours were over.

"At that moment her father, the landlord, burst upon the scene with noisy German oaths.

"'Thunder and lightning!' he said (among other things), while she fled in terror, before I had time to intervene.

"Then I drew myself up with dignity.

"'I must ask you to understand, sir,' I said, 'that the blame for this, if there be any blame, in wholly mine. I was merely asking your daughter a simple question which I will now address to you. Can you, at once, provide me with a horse and carriage, that I may drive to the nearest railway station?'

"The man's frown relaxed; he became comparatively civil.

"'It's a strange hour to start travelling,' he growled, 'but if you are set upon it----'

"'I am absolutely set upon it.'

"'In that case I will drive you there myself.'

"'I thank you.'

"'Come round to the stables, then.'

"He led the way, and in ten minutes or so the carriage was duly harnessed.

"'Here's something to keep you warm,' he said, offering me a flask. 'Better try to sleep a little.'

"Then he mounted the box, and drove off along the rough roads in the dark.

"The liquor in the flask was _Kirsch-wasser_--a cordial for which I had no great liking. I sipped at it and no more. Nevertheless, drowsiness overcame me, my fatigue and the previous draughts of Rhenish wine assisting, and I fell into a doze. How long I dozed I cannot tell you! All that I know is that, when I woke with a start, owing to the jolting and lurching of the carriage, the night was nearly over and the horizon tinged with the pale lemon hues that precede dawn.

"'Where in the world am I now?' I murmured to myself, with a sudden access of uneasiness.

"For the scenery that I looked out upon had a strange familiarity. One after the other I recognised a hillock, a clump of trees, a group of farm-buildings--all landmarks that I had noted in my wanderings of the night before.

"'Heavens!' I ejaculated, as the whole truth flashed upon me.

"It was against her own father that the flaxen-haired Minna had wished to warn me, in the village inn; it was he, and no other, who was the spy in the pay of the Third Section. He had tried to drug me with his _Kirsch_; and his plot was to drive me back over the frontier, before I could know what was happening, and hand me over to the police. We might cross the boundary line, for all that I could tell, at any instant. Only by immediate action could I save myself.

"Standing up in my place, and leaning forward, I gripped the man by the collar with my left hand, while with my right I drew his own revolver from his side-pocket and held it to his head.

"'Scoundrel!' I roared at him, 'pull up the horse this instant, or I'll shoot you!'

"He felt instinctively that I meant what I said, and that his game was up.

"'What is it? What have I done?' he stammered feebly, bringing the carriage to a standstill.

"Now that there was no further need for violence I recovered my customary calm.

"'You have lost your way, Herr Landlord,' I replied. 'Turn round and try to find it. Try very hard and very carefully, for this pistol of yours seems to be loaded, and might go off at the slightest provocation. Your destination, mind you, is not the Russian frontier, but the nearest German railway station.'

"He obeyed me sullenly, without further words. It was a long, long drive, over a dreary stretch of country; but it came to an end at last. At midday the weary horse jogged slowly through a village street, and I got down and paid my driver.

"'Sweep it up,' I said, scornfully tossing some coins into the gutter for him. 'That is the proper way to pay men like you. Now go and boast to your boon companions how you have driven Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski to the railway station.'

"He slunk away, fearful lest I should denounce him to the porter and the stationmaster--tall, sturdy men, who were likely to have little sympathy with a Russian spy; while I, on my part, bought my ticket and began my journey to my hiding-place.

"Do you think that it was cowardly of me to wish to hide myself? Not, surely, after my warning and my experiences of the vast powers and the vindictive malice of that great and unscrupulous organisation which was endeavouring to hunt me down. Consider! Even kings have found it necessary to hide themselves sometimes; and if a king may hide himself without loss of dignity in an oak-tree, then surely it is no shame for a revolutionist to conceal himself, for a period, in a Swiss _chalet_. The king who hid in the oak-tree would doubtless have preferred the _chalet_ if he could have got to it.

"'_Reculer pour mieux sauter_,' I said to myself, 'must be my motto. I have my idea for a new bomb, and I will work it out in the friendly solitude of the pine forests.'

"So I lost no time, but journeyed day and night until I reached one of those little villages that lie high up in the hills above Montreux, on the blue waters of Lake Leman.

"These villages--Chailly, Saint Legier, and the rest--are, I should tell you, the usual hiding-places of Russian refugees. I do not say, of course, that to have a 'usual hiding-place' is the wisest course that prudence could devise. The practice, as I now see clearly, must simplify the task of those who seek. But, at the time, I did not think of this. The shores of the Lake of Geneva seemed to me, as it were, an Alsatia where even the Third Section could not seize its victims.

"And oh! the life I lived there! It was a strange and welcome interlude of peace, to which I still sometimes look back with deep regret when I am tired.

"My _chalet_ was high up, in a lonely place, on the very verge of a great pine forest. I used to rise early and wander for a mile among the meadows. Behind me towered the dark crags of the Rochers de Nave; below me gleamed the lake; before me were the black Savoy Hills, with the white dome of the Velan in the distance. The sight of these things, and of the deepening autumn tints upon the vineyards, stirred all the deep-seated poetry of my nature, until it was with difficulty that I pulled myself together, saying--

"'It is time that I was getting on with my bomb.'

"Nor was I absolutely bereft of company. In the _chalet_ itself, indeed, there was no one but a deaf old woman--the widow of a woodcutter--who cooked my dinners. But, every now and again I met tourists from the Montreux hotels and entered into conversation with them. I was a mystery to them; they christened me the hermit of Saint Legier. But they invited me to refresh myself with them in the _cafes_, and I did so the more willingly that my own store of silver coin was scanty. And sometimes, when the white wine flowed, I told them stories of my revolutionary adventures, such stories as I now tell to you.

"'You do not know who I am,' I would say. 'What will you think when I tell you that I am here in hiding from the Russian secret police? Yes, so it is! I am no other than Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.'

"And I would go on to tell them the story of my adventure in the streets of Warsaw, and other stories which I have told you, or may tell you later. It was the only return that I could make for the extensive hospitality of those knickerbockered youths.

"One day, moreover--the most memorable day of all--I made the acquaintance of a lady. Let me endeavour to recall that day.

"It was away towards Blonay, at some distance from my temporary home. She was tall and elegant, wearing a white blouse, a dark skirt, and a sailor hat; her hair was auburn; her eyes were beautifully blue. She looked about her anxiously, as though in doubt of the direction that she ought to take. Revolving the situation rapidly in my mind, I said to myself--

"'I am favourably impressed. In the absence of more serious adventure, this is emphatically an adventure to be pursued.'

"And to the lady herself I said, raising my hat with a very courteous flourish--

"'Pardon me, madam. You seem to me to have lost your way. May I place myself at your disposition and direct you?'

"From her dress and demeanour I had judged that she was English, but from her reply it appeared that she was American.

"'Now, I call that real nice of you,' was her simple answer.

"'Your destination?'

"'Way down at Territet. Grand Hotel des Alpes.'

"'We are at some distance from the high road. You will permit me, perhaps, to guide you.'

"'I guess a white man couldn't do less,' she replied, smiling, and we strolled on together.

"Do not think me boastful or vainglorious if I tell you that, as your phrase is, I 'made the running quickly.' A revolutionist must needs do so. He is a busy man, with little leisure on his hands; he never knows what an hour may bring forth for him; gallantry is seldom possible for him, save on the condition that he makes haste with it and does not dally over the preliminaries. Besides, he enjoys advantages denied to most of you; he dazzles by virtue of the mystery which surrounds him; like the soldier, he carries his life in his hands. Such things appeal to women. It did not surprise me, therefore, that my beautiful American grew confidential.

"'I'm Daisy van Bean,' she said, 'the daughter of the railroad king, and I'm stopping with poppa at Territet. But say, now. You've walked all this way with me and you haven't yet told me what your name is.'

"It was my chance for the great _coup_ which was to fascinate her imagination, if not to win her heart. I answered--

"'Beautiful Daisy, I will surprise you. I am Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski--the revolutionist--the fugitive--the inventor.'

"'The inventor? Say, now, what have you invented?'

"'I have just invented a new bomb.'

"She clapped her hands.

"'That's just too lovely for anything,' she said. 'Tell me all about it.'

"I hesitated; you would have done the same. Such secrets are not lightly to be babbled of. But was there ever an inventor who did not delight to talk of his invention--even before it was provisionally protected? So I told.

"'Beautiful Daisy, it is a bomb of which I think I have every reason to be proud. The principal ingredient is fulminate of mercury. It will make a terrible noise, but do no harm worth speaking of. You wonder; but I will explain. What is the object of a bomb? To terrorise. What is the most effective cause of terror? Noise. By noise, far more than by any other means, shall we frighten governments into conceding our demands.'

"She was not indignant, as some women would have been, but only curious.

"'I'd just love to have a look at that bomb,' she said.

"'But, beautiful Daisy,' I replied, 'even if you saw it, you would never know that it was a bomb. That is another of its merits. It can be made up to look like anything--like a cigar-case, for example, or a photograph album, or a purse.'

"'How clever!'

"'Still,' I said, 'if you would deign to accept the humble hospitality of a bachelor's roof----'

"She was emancipated--even for an American. The usual proprieties seemed to have no hold upon her.

"'I will,' she said, 'and if I'm alive to-morrow, I'll be passing here about this time.'

"And then we said good-bye. If only I had known! But I must not anticipate.

"I prepared a feast for my beautiful Daisy--such a feast as my modest means permitted. We had tea and fruits, and bread and butter, and cream, and honey--real honey, not the poisonous stuff they make at Zurich. Imagine, then, my consternation when she burst into a flood of tears, exclaiming--

"'Oh! I feel mean, I do. I feel real mean.'

"I imagined, of course, that she was ashamed of the advantage that she was taking of the confidence which her parents had reposed in her, and I tried to comfort her upon that supposition. But she was inconsolable.

"'No, no, it isn't that,' she said. 'Why I feel mean is that I deceived you. I'm not Daisy van Bean, and my poppa isn't a railroad king.'

"I tried to assure her that I was superior to all foolish prejudices about her social station; but she interrupted me again--

"'Listen! There's no time to lose. I'm just a spy and a decoy of the Third Section. They heard of you, and they sent me up to make sure, and they're following me--six of them--this very afternoon. I didn't intend telling you; but when you looked at me just then, I felt real mean.'

"'I must not stay here another moment,' I said. 'Come with me. Let us fly together.'

"'Too late! too late!' she murmured. 'I hear them coming.'

"And, sure enough, there was the sound of footsteps on the gravel. But a thought struck her.

"'What's the matter with getting out of the window?' she asked eagerly.

"'They are all barred,' I answered. 'With my own hands I fixed the bars, so that the Third Section might not break in by night. How was I to know that the Third Section would attempt to enter in broad daylight by the door?'

"She gasped.

"'Great snakes! As if, in a lonesome place like this, it wasn't the easiest thing in the world to rush the house!'

"'Rush the house!' I repeated, for the Americanism was new to me.

"But Daisy only went into hysterics on the sofa, and ten seconds later I had grasped the meaning of her words.

"The door opened and the intruders entered. There were six of them, all dressed in black, as men who go to funerals. I should have wondered at this if I had had the time to wonder, but I had none. There was no parley, no attempt at parley. They knew their _role_ and I knew mine. I hurled the teacup at the foremost of them and gashed his forehead badly. The milk-jug followed, breaking the front teeth of the second. Then they ran in upon me and we fought at close quarters.

"Such a fight as it was! Kicking upwards, I caught one of them under the chin, so that he lay for dead upon the floor. A second, getting the sole of my boot in the pit of his stomach, fell, doubled up, in the remotest corner of the room. A third, however, with fiendish ingenuity, hurled a chair between my legs. I tripped and fell, half dazed with the blow that my head got as I tumbled. They rushed upon me, pinioned me, and tied my hands and feet. The fight had hardly lasted a minute, and, conquered by superior numbers, I was at their mercy.

"'Run for help, Marie,' I had shouted to my old housekeeper at the beginning of the struggle, and, though she was deaf and could not hear me, what she saw sufficed to send her, screaming loudly, down the hill.

"One of my assailants, however, pursued her, caught her, put his hand over her mouth, lifted her in his arms, and brought her back and locked her in her bedroom. I saw her kicking, as he carried her past the open door, and then my senses left me.

"How long I lay stunned I cannot tell you. Wholly unconscious at first, I must have continued for hours in a state of semi-consciousness, vaguely aware, like a man in a dream, of the strange things that were going on around me. I perceived dimly that night fell and that the lamps were lighted. As it were through a mist, I saw the figures of men watching me. From time to time I heard muffled voices that I could make nothing of. At last if seemed as if a cloud had suddenly lifted, and my senses returned to me with a flash.

"Horror of horrors! I was sitting--in an open coffin--with the lid lying on the floor beside it, ready to be fixed on!

"'A thousand thunders!' I yelled, trying to struggle to my feet. 'What are you doing? I am----'

"But, with my hands and feet fastened, I could scarcely move.

"A rough hand thrust me back, and one of my enemies--he with the damaged forehead--held a piece of stamped paper before my eyes, saying jeeringly--

"'You are Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski, are you? Then read that, my friend!'

"'Good Heavens!' I ejaculated.

"The paper was my _acte de deces_--my death certificate, bearing the signature--forged, of course--of the leading physician of Montreux.

"So the scheme of these ruffians of the Third Section was--to bury me alive! I could have no doubt of it, and I could do nothing to help myself. There was just a chance that Daisy might find a means of saving me; but it was a very faint chance. The others would almost certainly look too sharply after her for that. I felt my face blanch and great beads of sweat stand out upon my forehead. I made a desperate effort to free myself, but with no result.

"The men stood round and laughed at me, and then one of them advanced and clapped a pad over my mouth.

"'Here's something to keep you quiet, my friend,' he said derisively.

"Those were the last words I heard. There followed the sickly smell of chloroform, the insufferable sense of suffocation, and then a blank unconsciousness, drifting into weird and wonderful dreams. At last--after how long a period I cannot say--consciousness and recollection stole back to me together. I grasped the meaning of the incessant rattling and jolting which had been with me in my dreams, and still continued now that all my faculties were once more awakened.

"'The fiends!' I ejaculated, as the awful truth came home to me. The Third Section had kidnapped me and locked me in the coffin, for the purpose of conveying me back to Russia, where, without doubt, the hangman's rope awaited me. They had forged the death certificate in order to be able to pass the coffin, without question or investigation, through the various custom-houses. It was a better fate than being buried alive, as I had expected; but only because it gave the chapter of accidents an opening.

"'Let me out! I have no business here. I am Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.'

"But no answer came. If any sound had issued from my narrow prison, the rumbling of the train had drowned it. If I were ever to get out of it, I must find the way myself, by my own strength and ingenuity.

"By luck my hands were not so securely fastened as they might have been. Confident in the strength of the coffin itself, my captors had evidently been guilty of carelessness in this respect. I was able to get my hands to my mouth, and, after half an hour's patient work, to undo the knot with my teeth.

"'Now let me see if they have left me any sort of tool,' I said to myself.

"So I first rescued my feet from their bonds and then fumbled in my pockets. The fools had not taken the trouble to empty them, thinking, no doubt, that it would be time enough to do this when I reached my destination; but they contained little enough, all the same. A few coins, a few notes of the Geneva Bank, a box of matches, some letters, a key, a small pocket-knife, and a cigar-case--such was the full list of the implements that I had to work with.

"'First for the cigar-case,' I mused. 'If only I knew whether that was the bomb cigar-case!'

"For I knew that, in one of my cigar-cases, I had packed one of my noisy but harmless bombs; though whether it was in the one that I had in my pocket, or in the one that I had left upon the mantelpiece, I could not recollect. In the former event my course was clear. I had only to wait until the train stopped and then fire it. The terrific din would doubtless break the drums of both my ears; the flame might even scorch my face. But at least the train would be searched after the explosion, and when smoke was seen issuing from the coffin, through the breathing-holes that had been bored for me, it would be opened.

"I waited patiently until we reached a station. Then, holding the case carefully behind my back, so as to save my face as much as possible, I jerked it open.

"But nothing happened--nothing, that is to say, except that the cigars fell out of it!

"'Let me see how far the knife will help me,' was my next idea.

"It was quite a little knife, as I have said. But the journey to the Russian frontier was a long one. I had plenty of time in front of me. It seemed just possible that, if I worked diligently, I might at least carve a hole in the lid through which I could put out a finger, if not a hand, and make a signal of distress. I opened the little pocket-knife and set to work.

"At first things went quite easily. The interior of the coffin was lined with a thick felting, designed, no doubt, to muffle any noise that its occupant might make. I worked diligently and succeeded in stripping off a patch of it. But I could get no further. Alas! and alas! Behind the padding I encountered, not wood, but solid lead, upon which the knife made no impression.

"Beaten again!'

"I gasped out the words in the bitterness of my despair and fainted. For an hour or two, as I conjecture, I lay senseless on my back. My last hope, apparently, was gone. My one chance of escaping the hangman was to die before I reached him. But then, suddenly--

"Crash! Bang!

"The noise reached me even in my leaden box. I felt the train slowing down immediately afterwards, and knew exactly what must have happened.

"'The Third Section! They stole the cigar-case from my mantelpiece. They've opened it to try the cigars and fired the bomb themselves.'

"But depression followed quickly on the heels of exultation. The firing of the bomb, though it stopped the train and caused the Russian spies to be arrested, would hardly help me to declare my presence in the coffin. The chance was that I should be left there till I starved, or else put hastily underground because no one knew who I was. What was I to do to arrest the attention of the officials, who were even now beginning to search the train from end to end.

"I thought hard, as though my brain were packed in ice, and then the inspiration came to me.

"'I have it! The cigars! If they see smoke coming through the air-holes, they'll think it was the bomb!'

"Did you ever try to smoke a cigar when you had just come round after having been under chloroform? If not, then you may take my word for it that it needs more heroism than to charge a battery or defend a barricade. I choked and coughed. I was seized by the most hideous nausea. I would have preferred the torture of the rack or thumbscrew. But I bit my lips and stuck to it, smoking for dear life's sake.

"It seemed whole weeks before my signal was discovered, though from the length of the ash upon my _Vevey fine_ I knew that it could not have been more than five minutes at the outside. At last I began to hear voices, though I failed to distinguish the words, and realised that tools were at work upon my living tomb. In spite of the awful nausea, I puffed away harder than ever, pressing upwards with my hand, so as to lift the lid the very moment it was loosened.

"At last it yielded. I thrust it off, not waiting for it to be lifted, and with the stump of my cigar still between my fingers sprang to my feet, exclaiming--

"'It is time that I was out of this. I have no business here.'

"The guards and porters and policemen who were standing round turned pale, as though they had seen a ghost, and nearly fell into each other's arms.

"'Who the----' one of them ejaculated in his consternation, and I answered reassuringly--

"'Fear nothing! No harm will happen to you. I am Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.'

"Then I stepped out of my box and looked around me. We were at Basle. On the platform I saw my old enemy of the Third Section--the same man whose forehead I had gashed--offering explanations to two policemen, who held him fast and did not seem at all disposed to listen to him.

"I pointed at him with the finger of denunciation.

"'There he is,' I cried. 'That is the culprit; that is the man who fired the bomb. He was making bombs in the woods near Montreux, and because I caught him at it he kidnapped me and threatened me with this living death. It is a voice from the dead that now convicts him of his crime.'

"You can imagine the effect that followed from my words. The crowd rushed forward as one man, vowing that it would tear the miscreant limb from limb; the police, as one man, formed up to save him for more formal and deliberate justice, and I found myself standing alone and unobserved upon the platform.

"'This is a good opportunity of retiring unobtrusively,' I said to myself, 'If I remain to give evidence, I shall be the mark of the vengeance of the Third Section for the remainder of my life. Better that an ocean should roll between us; better that I should disappear mysteriously and leave no trace behind.'

"So, taking advantage of the confusion, I bought a ticket and slipped unnoticed into the Paris train _en route_ for Havre and America.

"Afterwards, from the papers, I learnt that my enemy of the Third Section--whose Government naturally could not help him--had been sentenced to imprisonment with hard labour."

THE COUNTER-REVOLUTION.

Stromboli smoked a cigar, slowly and meditatively, in my chambers. The dreamy yet earnest look in his eyes indicated that he was following an important train of thought. At last he spoke.

"What," he asked, "is your candid opinion of me as a story-teller?"

I smiled my admiration and replied--

"My friend, I find many notable qualities in your stories, but the quality which pleases me best is the modesty of the narrator."

For the first time the revolutionist flashed a suspicious glance at me, ejaculating--

"My modesty? What do you mean, then?"

"I refer," I said, "to the readiness with which you acknowledge that your appearance in revolutions has sometimes been more picturesque than dignified. Take that Nihilist story," I explained. "It seems that all that you did for the cause was to smoke a cigar in your coffin."

"But you know that my _role_ has not often been so humble as on that occasion. If I have sunk low, I have also risen high. Listen, and I will tell you. I was once the President of a republic."

"You don't say so?" was the feeble remark I blurted out.

"I say so," he replied with gentle dignity, "for no other reason than because it happens to be the fact. I suppose I should still be the President of a republic if it had not been for the counter-revolution. A counter-revolution," he added, philosophically, "is no unusual incident in the history of the republics of Central America."

I nodded my acquiescence.

"Still," I urged, "it would be a good idea for you to tell the story. It exhibits you, no doubt, in a heroic light."

"I leave you to be the judge of that," Stromboli answered, and forthwith began upon--

THE ADVENTURE OF THE COUNTER-REVOLUTION.

"On escaping from my coffin, as I have told you, I hurried by way of Havre to New York--a city where revolutionists are treated with respect, and may even obtain municipal office by means of the Irish vote. I make no doubt I should have risen to some distinction of the kind, if another employment had not been found for me by private enterprise.

"It happened in an underground saloon bar--a 'dive' as it was called--which I frequented. I used to sit there in the company of some large-hearted Irishmen who had got into trouble with the British Government. We told each other stories of adventures, and I flatter myself that, as a story-teller, I held my own among them. But the crisis in my career arrived when I heard a strange but friendly voice at my elbow, speaking the one word--

"'Cocktail?'

"I accepted the invitation and turned round to inspect my host. As he was well-dressed, my first impression was that he was a young man of fashion--a 'dude,' in fact--engaged in seeing life. His manner, however, was not languid enough for that, and the look in his eyes was too keen.

"He watched me closely and drew to the other end of the saloon, where we could talk without being overheard. Then he jerked out--

"'Say, now! Those stories you've been tellin'--partly true, s'pose?'

"'Sir,' I said, 'if you have only offered me hospitality for the purpose of throwing doubt upon my word----'

"The stranger apologised, and, after a pause, approached the subject from a fresh point of view.

"'Say, though. You're by way of being a desperate character, anyhow, reckon?' and added, dropping the words as if what he said was of no particular importance, 'Lookin' out for employment, likely?'

"It seemed kindly meant, though crudely put; the conjecture was correct. Before I could enlarge upon the extent and nature of my qualifications he cut me short again.

"'Drop round on me at two o'clock to-morrow afternoon, and we'll fit up a deal right there. Here is my card. Now, as it's getting late, I'll say "Good-night" to you and get on the car. Glad to have made your acquaintance. Hope to renew it in the morning.'

"He shook my hand and hurried off. I examined his card and found it thus inscribed--

HIRAM P. VAN SCHUYLER,
115, Broadway.

It was a name that I knew--a name that everybody knew. Hiram P. Van Schuyler was a millionaire--a railroad king. It puzzled me to think what he could want in seeking the acquaintance of a revolutionist. Did he desire to buy me over to constitutional causes? If so----

"'There is some mystery here,' I said to myself, 'and I will probe it to the bottom.'

"So out of curiosity, rather than from any higher motive, I decided to keep the appointment which Mr. Van Schuyler had made.

"His offices occupied the whole of an enormous block of buildings; his own private room was on the highest floor. An elevator carried me up to it, a clerk showed me in, and Mr. Van Schuyler shook me warmly by the hand.

"'Glad to see you. Take a seat, Mr.----'

"'Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski,' I explained.

"'That's so. I think you were saying that you're in favour of revolutions?'

"I had not, in fact, said anything of the kind; but as he had said it for me, I replied--

"'My services--such as they are--have always been at the disposition----'

"'That's the notion, sir. Now, I'm going to make you a square offer.'

"Now, I was quite sure that he wished to bribe me to abandon my political opinions, and I prepared an appropriate reply. But I had no use for it.

"'My offer is--subject, of course, to certain conditions,' Mr. Van Schuyler continued--'to put up the dollars for a revolution in the Republic of Nicaragua.'

"Once more I breathed freely; and Mr. Van Schuyler proceeded to explain, as coolly as though he were discussing the most simple matter of business routine.

"'You see, it's this way. There are concessions to be had in Nicaragua, and I want the handling of them--concessions for railroads, concessions for gold-mining, concessions for street-lighting, and plenty more. The existing Government does not see its way to offer me sufficiently remunerative terms. Therefore, the existing Government has to go, and my nominee has to be elected President. If he can see his way to being elected Emperor, so much the better. The main thing is that, after election, he must afford me the necessary facilities for developing the resources of the country. Possibly there is no money in those resources; but that doesn't matter. There's money in the concessions, and I mean getting them. The question is, therefore: Will you accept my nomination to the Nicaraguan Presidency? Don't decide in a hurry. Think it over carefully for two minutes while I write a letter, and then let me know.'

"During the allotted interval I turned the matter over carefully in my mind.

"'Your proposal is of a somewhat unusual character,' I said.

"'If it were usual, there wouldn't be money in it,' Mr. Van Schuyler answered; and the argument impressed me favourably.

"'Then I am willing to act for you,' said I.

"'Then we'll consider it fixed up,' said he. 'Go home and draft your plan of action, and drop round again this time to-morrow. In the meantime, don't go gassing about it in the saloons, or Jacob Van Tine'll get hold of the notion and put up a rival nominee.'

"I swore that I would be as silent as the grave.

"'Right,' said Mr. Van Schuyler. 'Good afternoon, Mr.----'

"'Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski,' I prompted.

"'That is so. Good afternoon, sir.'

"So we shook hands again and I departed to mature my schemes; for there was much to be thought over and little time for thinking.

"'I will be methodical,' I said to myself, 'and begin at the beginning. First of all, I must find out where is Nicaragua, and how one gets there--whether by rail or steamer. Some further particulars as to the population, and national defences, and the present political condition of the country, will also be of service to me. They will know these things at the State Library. I will go there and inquire. But I will be careful not to divulge my secret to the librarian. Doubtless it will suffice to make him communicative if I throw out mysterious hints.'

"Then I rode down to the Library on the cars, and though I made only the most obscure references to the delicate mission with which I was entrusted, all the vast resources of the establishment were instantly placed at my disposal. In the course of a couple of hours I had probed the question to the bottom, and by the time of my next appointment with Mr. Van Schuyler was thoroughly master of my subject.

"'I have discovered,' I told him, 'that the Republic of Nicaragua contains more than a quarter of a million of inhabitants.'

"'The precise number, according to the last census, was 259,800,' said Mr. Van Schuyler. 'Fire ahead.'

"'I calculate that an army of ten thousand trustworthy volunteers----

"'Would eat up all my margin of profit and a bit more besides. Try again.'