WHEN THE EMPIRE CRASGED

Star (Christchurch), Issue 12758, 30 September 1919, Page 4

WHEN THE EMPIRE CRASGED

«J> By ARTHUE W. MARCHMONT 4»

V »8* i 5« Author of (je, A „™ " w ken I was Czaj" a g The Han Without 4 Memory," £' 5 etc., ate. ,*

CHAPTER XXX ATOLA'S rvvtSTrwryT Among the experiences I am thank-' ful to forget the awful night spent in gaol after my second arrest is an easy winner. I was flung into a ceil already over-crowded with a horde of the lowest gutter scum of both sexes: and as the warder told them I was a German spy. informer, and assassin, and had caused their arrest, the result may be imagined. Even 7 one of them was more or less drunk; the place smelt pestiferously; all were violently quarrelsome, and b> common consent they set about wreaking their vengeance on me as the author of their troubles. 1 had to tight for my life, and only the fact that drunken sleep overcame many of them, saved me from being torn and kicked to pieces. When at length the orgy had spent itself, the cell suggested a mixture of shambles aud pigsty; and I was glad to huddle up against the wail, bruised, battered, in rags, every bone in my body aching and only my face comparatively uninjured. To my intense relief I was taken away in the morning and lodged in another cell alone, where the Governor of the gaol cams an hour or so later to have a look at the notorious English assassin of Count Koskm. I told him what had passed as the result of the warder’s lies; but he only sneered. “Serve you right; do you think such murderous scoundrels as you should be quartered in the Wintdr Palace?” “ 1 wish to communicate with the British Embassy and ——” “ Silence!” bo bellowed- “Wait till I've done with you. You’re in my charge now and you’ve got to answer my questions. How did you kill Count Koslov?” “1 didh’t kill him.” “ Lies won’t help you,” he burst out furiously. “Answer my question.'’ “I have answered it. I did not kill him.” “Obstinate, are you? That won’t help you. I’ll find a way to make you speak- You’d better confess at once, if you don’t want the flesh lashed off your bones. It shall be, if you don’t own the truth,’’ he cried with an. oath. “I’m an Englishman and have a right to communicate with our Embassy.” “ I toud you not to lie. You’re a German and your real name’s Karl Stein; wanted for murder in New York- And they shall have whaf’s left when we’ve i done with you,” aud as this appealed