were to spend the night we congratulated ourselves on having escaped for some time from all contact with the official world.  In this we were “reckoning without the host.”  As the clock struck twelve that night I was roused by a loud knocking at my door, and after a good deal of parley, during which some one proposed to effect an entrance by force, I drew the bolt.  The officer who had signed my passport entered, and said, in a stiff, official tone, “I must request you to remain here for twenty-four hours.”

Not a little astonished by this announcement, I ventured to inquire the reason for this strange request.

“That is my business,” was the laconic reply.

“Perhaps it is; still you must, on mature consideration, admit that I too have some interest in the matter.  To my extreme regret I cannot comply with your request, and must leave at sunrise.”

“You shall not leave.  Give me your passport.”

“Unless detained by force, I shall start at four o’clock; and as I wish to get some sleep before that time, I must request you instantly to retire.  You had the right to stop me at the frontier, but you have no right to come and disturb me in this fashion, and I shall certainly report you.  My passport I shall give to none but a regular officer of police.”

Here followed a long discussion on the rights, privileges, and general character of the gendarmerie, during which my opponent gradually laid aside his dictatorial tone, and endeavoured to convince me that the honourable body to which he belonged was merely an ordinary branch of the administration.  Though evidently irritated, he never, I must say, overstepped the bounds of politeness, and seemed only half convinced that he was justified in interfering with my movements.  When he found that he could not induce me to give up my passport, he withdrew, and I again lay down to rest; but in about half an hour I was again disturbed.  This time an officer of regular police entered, and demanded my “papers.”  To my inquiries as to the reason of all this disturbance, he replied, in a very polite, apologetic way, that he knew nothing about the reason, but he had received orders to arrest me, and must obey.  To him I delivered my passport, on condition that I should receive a written receipt, and should be allowed to telegraph to the British ambassador in St. Petersburg.

Early next morning I telegraphed to the ambassador, and waited impatiently all day for a reply.  I was allowed to walk about the village and the immediate vicinity, but of this permission I did not make much use.  The village population was entirely Jewish, and Jews in that part of the world have a wonderful capacity for spreading intelligence.  By the early morning there was probably not a man, woman, or child in the place who had not heard of my arrest, and many of them felt a not unnatural curiosity to see the malefactor who had been caught by the police.  To be stared at as a malefactor is not very agreeable, so I preferred to remain in my room, where, in the company of my friend, who kindly remained with me and made small jokes about the boasted liberty of British subjects, I spent the time pleasantly enough.  The most disagreeable part of the affair was the uncertainty as to how many days, weeks, or months I might be detained, and on this point the police-officer would not even hazard a conjecture.