So intent was I in endeavouring to feel other names or devices near this particular one that I failed to notice the opening of my cell door, and when I became aware of the lantern-light behind me I turned and saw a Cossack officer standing upon the threshold. He stepped forward and was about to enter, but suddenly, as if on second thought, he drew back and pulled up the broad collar of his riding-coat about his neck, so as to partially hide his face before entering. Advancing, and turning the lamplight full upon my face, he gazed into it fixedly for several seconds, his own countenance being concealed by the shadow. Then, without speaking, he went across the cell and commenced examining the wall, apparently to ascertain in what pursuit I was engaged when he entered. He cast his eyes along the wall, when he suddenly gave vent to a low exclamation of profound surprise, not unmingled with horror, and holding his lantern on a level with the inscription, scrutinised it minutely for some minutes, at the same time muttering to himself. From his movements, and the agitation which he strove to suppress, it was evident he, too, had made a startling discovery; and I stood wondering what there was about it that interested him so much. He looked at me several times, and though his face was always in the shade I could see that in his eyes was a peculiar expression. Twice he returned and examined the inscription, as if to rivet it upon his memory and to satisfy himself he was not mistaken; then he turned, and, addressing me in French, said: "Prisoner, prepare yourself. We start to-morrow." "To Siberia?" I asked. "Yes; make the best of your last night's rest," he replied in a strange hoarse voice, and went out, leaving me again to my gloomy reflections. For hours I sat, asking myself what this could mean. The initials, in conjunction with the seal, served to increase the mystery, and the agitation of the officer when his gaze fell upon it clearly showed the grim symbol was repulsive to him, although the cruel light in his eyes caused me to conjecture that it revealed to him some awful truth that had hitherto been hidden. But why need I exercise my mind upon trying to solve this inscrutable problem, I thought, when on the morrow I should start upon my terrible journey to the grave? Ay, what was the use? CHAPTER FOURTEEN. EN ROUTE FOR THE MINES. At last the day--or rather night--arrived, when the gates of the Citadel opened, allowing myself with thirty other prisoners to pass out upon the first stage of the weary two months' tramp to that bourne whence few convicts ever return. We were a sorry, smileless band of criminals of all classes, each dressed alike and bearing a number, our hands fastened behind our backs, and chained together in single file.