Rooke and the men with him disappeared into the darkness in the direction of the harbour of Ilsin.
FROM THE SCRIPT OF THE VOIVODE, PETER VISSARION, _July_ 7, 1907.
I had little idea, when I started on my homeward journey, that it would have such a strange termination.

Even I, who ever since my boyhood have lived in a whirl of adventure, intrigue, or diplomacy--whichever it may be called--statecraft, and war, had reason to be surprised.

I certainly thought that when I locked myself into my room in the hotel at Ilsin that I would have at last a spell, however short, of quiet.

All the time of my prolonged negotiations with the various nationalities I had to be at tension; so, too, on my homeward journey, lest something at the last moment should happen adversely to my mission.

But when I was safe on my own Land of the Blue Mountains, and laid my head on my pillow, where only friends could be around me, I thought I might forget care.
But to wake with a rude hand over my mouth, and to feel myself grasped tight by so many hands that I could not move a limb, was a dreadful shock.