Page 272 - A Jacobite Exile

which was carpeted with tartar rugs. One of the Cossacks opened an inner
door, which led into a bedroom, snugly furnished.

"It must be the doctor, after all," Charlie murmured to himself, in great

surprise. "I see now that there was plenty of time for a letter to come up
here and have gone back again, and I suppose the good fellow has got leave
for me to stay for a night in his quarters, before I am handed over to the

prison. Well, for the last three days I have travelled like a prince, and this is
the closing act of it."

He enjoyed a good wash, then returned to the other room, and sat down in a
comfortable chair to wait for his host. He was on the point of dozing off,

when the door opened, and Peter Michaeloff entered. Charlie sprang to his
feet.

"Well, Captain Carstairs," the Russian said, holding out his hand, "so it
seems you had bad luck again. You must have quite an affection for our

prisons."

"I shall have, at least, a pleasant remembrance of the kindness shown to me
as a prisoner," Charlie said; "and I am sure it is you that I have to thank for
my transfer here, and for the pleasant journey I have had. I could not have

travelled more comfortably, if I had been a Russian grandee."

"Well, I am glad to meet you again," the doctor said heartily. "Let me see, it
is some twenty months since we supped together last at Kelly's quarters.
Poor fellow! I shall miss him greatly. You have heard of his death?"

"The governor of Bercov told me of it, a fortnight ago. I was indeed sorry

to hear it. I shall never forget his kindness to me."

"Yes, he was a good man, skilful in his profession, and full of zeal and

energy. The blood runs faster somehow, in the veins of you islanders, than
of us sluggish Muscovites. If we could but at one sweep banish every

Russian official, from the highest to the lowest, and fill their places with
men from your islands, what progress we should make, what work could