"
"What's going to become of us?" asked Ned.
"We will be detained a few days--until they find out more about us.
Their spies are busy, I have no doubt, and they are telegraphing all
over Europe about us."
"What about my airship?" asked Tom.
"I spoke of that," answered the exile. "I said you were a well-known
inventor of the United States, and that if any harm came to the craft
the Russian Government would not only be held responsible, but that the
governor himself would be liable, and I said that it cost much money.
That touched him, for, in spite of their power, these Russians are
miserably paid. He didn't want to have to make good, and if it developed
that he had made a mistake in arresting us, his superiors would disclaim
all responsibility, and let him shoulder the blame. Oh, all is not lost
yet, though I don't like the looks of things."
Indeed it began to seem rather black for our friends, for, that night
they were taken from the fairly comfortable, large, prison room, and
confined in small stone cells down in a basement. They were separated,
but as the cells adjoined on a corridor they could talk to each other.
With some coarse food, and a little water, Tom and his friends were left
alone.
"Say I don't like this!" cried our hero, after a pause.
"Me either," chimed in Ned.
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