summer in England, when his bedroom door was forced open and he was
roughly roused by the gendarmes.

His first feeling was one of amazement, his second, one of
indignation; however, he was obliged to get up at once and dress,
the policeman rigorously keeping guard over him the whole time for
fear he should destroy any treasonable document.

"How I shall make them laugh in England when I tell them of this
ridiculous affair!" reflected Sigismund, as he was solemnly marched
into the adjoining room, where he found his uncle and cousins, each
guarded by a policeman.

He made some jesting remark, but was promptly reprimanded by his
gaoler, and in wearisome silence the household waited while the most
rigorous search of the premises was made.

Of course nothing was found; but, to the amazement of all, Sigismund
was formally arrested.

"There must be some mistake," he exclaimed, "I have been resident in
England for some time. I have no connection whatever with Russian
politics."

"Oh, we are well aware of your residence in England," said the
pristav. "You left St. Petersburg early in March 1881. We are well
aware of that."

Something in the man's tone made Sigismund's heart stand still.
Could he possibly be suspected of complicity in the plot to