In spite of the rigorous prison discipline, Mezhenétsky never ceased intercourse with the members of his party, and was every day expecting news about the progress of a plot he himself had originated, to undermine and blow up the Emperor’s train. Calling to mind some details he had omitted, he was now trying to find means to communicate them to his adherents. When the watchman came into his cell and guardedly whispered in his ear that one of the convicts wished to see him, he was very pleased, thinking that that interview might furnish him with a chance of communicating with his party.

“Who is he?” he asked.

“A peasant.”

“What does he want?”

“He wants to have a talk about faith.”

Mezhenétsky smiled. “All right; send him to me,” he said. “These sectarians,” he thought, “also hate the Government.⁠ ⁠… He may be of use.”