"Why do you hesitate?" the jailer asked gruffly. "Know you not that you
must obey?"
"This man is dead!" I said, in alarm.
"And the best thing that could happen to him," was the stern reply.
"Now, how long am I to wait for you?"
His companion grinned at my abhorrence of the task, and uttered some
words in Russian, which the other answered.
It was plain I had to obey my heartless janitor, so, kneeling beside the
corpse, I managed, by dint of some exertion, to divest it of its grey
kaftan, strong knee boots, and sheepskin bonnet. In these I attired
myself, afterwards dressing the corpse in my own clothes.
My new garments were such as I had never seen before, and upon my breast
was a brass plate bearing a number.
"Now, take these," commanded the turnkey, throwing his light upon some
things in a corner.