In the wooden passport office the uniformed official, on examining my passport, discovered that at the Russian Consulate-General they had forgotten to date the vise which had been impressed with a rubber stamp.  It was signed by the Consul-General, but the date was missing, whereupon the man shook his head and handed back the document curtly, saying in Russian, which I understood fairly well, although I spoke badly—­

“This is not in order.  It must be returned to London and dated before you can proceed.”

“But it is not my fault,” I protested.  “It is the fault of the clerk at the Consulate-General.”

“You should have examined it before leaving.  You must send it to London, and return to Stockholm by to-night’s boat.”

“But this is outrageous!” I cried, as he had already taken the papers of a passenger behind me and was looking at them with unconcern.

“Enough!” he exclaimed, glaring at me.  “You will return to-night, or if you choose to stay you will be arrested for landing without a passport.”

“I shall not go back!” I declared defiantly.  “Your Consul-General vised my passport, and I claim, under international law, to be allowed to proceed without hindrance.”

“The steamer leaves at six o’clock,” he remarked without looking up.  “If you are in Abo after that it will be at your own risk.”

“I am English, recollect,” I said.

“To me it does not matter what or who you are.  Your passport, undated, is worthless.”

“I shall complain to the Ambassador at Petersburg.”

“Your Ambassador does not interest me in the least.  He is not Ambassador here in Finland.  There is no Czar here.”

“Oh!  Who is ruler in this country, pray?”

“His Excellency the Governor-General, an official who has love for neither England nor the pigs of English.  So recollect that.”

“Yes,” I said meaningly, “I shall recollect it.”  And I turned and went out of the little wooden office, replacing my passport in my pocket-book.

I had already been directed to the hotel, and walked there, but as I did so I saw that I was already under the surveillance of the police, for two men in plain clothes who were lounging outside the passport-office strolled on after me, evidently to watch my movements.  Truly Finland was under the iron-heel of autocracy.

After taking my rooms, I strolled about the flat, uninteresting town, wondering how best to commence my search.  If I had but a photograph to show people it would give me a great advantage, but I had nothing.  I had never, indeed, set eyes upon the unfortunate girl.

Six o’clock came.  I heard the steam siren of the departing boat bound for Sweden, but I was determined to remain there at whatever cost, therefore I returned to the hotel, and at seven dined comfortably in company with a German who had been my fellow-passenger across from Stockholm.