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"Is he buried?" was his first question. "He is, sir." "And decently?" "As a Christian should be buried, sir." "And a prayer was said?" "Yes, sir." Kanoffskie vented a sigh of relief, but he was a frightened and an altered man.
"But I may not return at all." "And, Providence keeping me, I will not," thought Barnwell. "If I can get the ear of the Czar, and his favor, I shall never return to this accursed place," said Kanoffskie, shuddering. "I do not blame you for not wishing to." "But on arriving at St. Petersburg I must report to the Prefect of Police, and procure a permit from him to retain a convict as my servant."
Kanoffskie waited with impatience. Somehow or other this young American had wormed himself into his cold and beastly nature, and even exercised more influence over him than he knew of. Darkness came on, and Barnwell went to his master, as ordered. He found him pacing his office in a highly nervous state. "I am here, surgeon," said Barnwell. "Stay here.
So, one day, after they had been in St. Petersburg about a month, he managed while carrying a message for Kanoffskie, to get near the official residence of the American minister, over which the Stars and Stripes of the great republic floated proudly.
But, after all, it gave nerve to his heart. While cogitating thus, Kanoffskie, the chief surgeon, awoke with a snort. He glared wildly around the room in a startled way. Barnwell looked at him inquiringly. "Did you see anything?" he finally asked. "Nothing unusual, sir." "Did you hear anything?" "Nothing, sir." "Did I cry out in my sleep?" "No, sir, not that I heard."
Nothing further happened at this time, but the next day Kanoffskie visited the governor, who was startled by his altered appearance, and at once inquired the meaning of it. "Your Excellency, I am not well. I am overworked, and have come to ask you to grant me a year's leave of absence," replied Kanoffskie. "You certainly do look ill, doctor, but who can fill your place in the interim?"
"But it serves him right," he thought; and covering the dead man's face with a blanket, he returned to the surgeon's office. "Well?" he asked, with quick anxiety. "The old man is dead, sir." "Dead dead, say you?" shrieked Kanoffskie, springing to his feet, trembling and pale. "Yes, sir, he is dead." "How how long since, do you think?" he asked, in a choked voice.
The first thing to do was to insure confidence in Kanoffskie and the police, and this he exerted himself to do, feeling certain that the time would come before the year was up for him to carry out his plans. With Kanoffskie it was an easy matter, and as he was a government officer against whom there was no suspicion, Barnwell was allowed greater latitude on that account.
In truth, his death at any moment was not unexpected by Barnwell, but coming as it did at the very moment of Kanoffskie's dream, made it seem more strange and horrible. Indeed, there seemed to be something horribly supernatural about it. He stood for a moment gazing upon the rigid features of the poor old man, hardly daring to return and tell Kanoffskie of his death.
Take him away!" cried Kanoffskie, in his sleep. "No, no! do not let him drag me down to that pit! I know it, I know it, but do not let him drag me down! I repent!" And much more he said that Barnwell was perforce obliged to listen to, and of course he could not sleep. But the night went on, and finally the doctor awoke. He glared wildly around.
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