My blood was up at this insult, yet I bit my lips and remained quite
calm.
"Perhaps you will kindly tell me who you are?" I asked in as quiet a
voice as I could command.
"With pleasure. I am Michael Boranski, Chief of Police of the Province
of Abo-Biornebourg."
"Ah! Well, Michael Boranski, I shall trouble you to pick up my passport,
stick it together again, and apologize to me."
"Apologize! Me apologize!" And the fellow laughed aloud, while the
police officers on either side of me grinned from ear to ear.
"You refuse?"
"Refuse? Certainly I do!"
"Very well, then," I said, re-opening my pocket-book and taking out an
open letter. "Perhaps you will kindly glance at that. It is in Russian,
so you can read it."
He snatched it from me with ill-grace, but not without curiosity. And
then, as he read the lines, his face changed and he went paler. Raising
his head, he stood staring at me open-mouthed in amazement.
"I apologize to your Excellency!" he gasped, blanched to the lips.
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