Part 34 (1/2)
But before we went outside General Vorontzoff took the list from the Captain's hand and scrawled his signature--the signature which sent two hundred and seven men and women to the coldest region in the world--that frozen bourne whence none ever returned.
Outside in the dark snowy night the wretched gang, in rough, grey, snow-covered clothes, were a.s.sembled, a dismal gathering of the most hopeless and dejected wretches in the world, all of them educated, and the majority being members of the professional cla.s.ses. Yet all had, by that single stroke of the Governor's pen, been consigned to a terrible fate, existence in the filthy yaurtas or huts of the half-civilised Yakuts--an unwashed race who live in the same stable as their cows, and whose habits are incredibly disgusting.
That huddled, s.h.i.+vering crowd had already trudged over four thousand miles on foot and survived, though how many had died on the way would never be told. They stood there like driven cattle, inert, silent and broken. Hardly a word was spoken, save by the mounted Cossack guards, who smoked or joked, several of them having been drinking vodka freely before leaving.
The Governor, standing at my side, glanced around them, mere shadows on the snow. Then he exclaimed with a low laugh, as though amused:
”Even this fate is too good for such vermin! Let's go inside.”
I followed him in without a word. My heart bled for those poor unfortunate creatures, who at that moment, at a loud word of command from the Cossack captain, moved away into the bleak and stormy night.
In the cosy warmth of his own room General Vorontzoff threw himself into a deep armchair and declared that I must leave the ”Guestnitsa” and become his guest, an invitation which I had no inclination to accept.
He offered me champagne, which I was compelled out of courtesy to drink, and we sat smoking until presently the young Cossack officer reappeared, bearing a bundle of official papers.
”Well, where are they?” inquired the Governor quickly. ”How slow you are!” he added emphatically.
”The two prisoners in question are still here in Yakutsk,” was the officer's reply. ”They have not yet been sent on to Parotovsk.”
”Then I must go to them at once,” I cried in eagerness, starting up quickly from my chair. ”I must speak with them without delay. I demand to do so--in the Tzar's name.”
The officer bent and whispered some low words into His Excellency's ear; whereupon the Governor, turning to me with a strange expression upon his coa.r.s.e countenance, said in a quiet voice:
”I much regret, Mr Trewinnard, but I fear that is impossible--quite impossible!”
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
LUBA MAKES A STATEMENT.
”Impossible!” I echoed, staring at the all-powerful official. ”Why?”
He shrugged his shoulders, slowly flicked the ash from his cigarette and glanced at the paper which the officer had handed to him.
I saw that beneath the candle-light his heavy features had changed. The diamond upon his finger flashed evilly.
”My pen and writing-pad,” he said, addressing his aide-de-camp.
The latter went to the writing-table and handed what he required.
His Excellency rapidly scribbled a few words, then tearing off the sheet of paper handed it to me, saying:
”As you so particularly wish to see them, I suppose your request must be granted. Here is an order to the prison governor.”
I took it with a word of thanks, and without delay put on my heavy fur shuba and accompanied the aide-de-camp out into the darkness. He carried a big, old-fas.h.i.+oned lantern to guide my footsteps, though the walk through the steadily-falling snow was not a long one.
Presently we came to a series of long, wood-built houses, windowless save for some small apertures high near the roof, standing behind a high stockade before which Cossack sentries, huddled in their greatcoats, were pacing, white, snowy figures in the gloom.
My guide uttered some pa.s.sword, which brought two sentries at the door to the salute, and then the great gates opened and we entered a big, open s.p.a.ce which we crossed to the bureau, a large, low room, lit by a single evil-smelling petroleum lamp. Here I met a narrow-jawed, deep-eyed man in uniform--the prison governor, to whom I presented my permit.
He called a Cossack gaoler, a big, fur-clad man with a jingling bunch of keys at his waist, and I followed him out across the courtyard to one of the long wooden sheds, the door of which he with difficulty unlocked, unbolted, and threw open.