SMYTHE* 
 
 RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 PIEAFE lEAVE BOARD COVERS 
 IN PMCE. THEYARE PUT 
 THERE TO PROTECT MATERIAL 
 
 PERMANANT BOARD-NOT BINDABIE 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924076320971 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 JAMES P. SMYTHE, A.M., Ph.D. 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Two authentic Diaries 
 arranged and translated 
 
 by 
 
 JAMES P. SMYTHE, A.M., Ph.D. 
 
 CALIfORiyjA 3%;iNTlNC' CO. 
 
 PubHsher's ' 
 
 San Francisco 
 
 MCMXX 
 
FIRST EDITION 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1920 
 by JAMES P. SMYTHE 
 
 c - ,•• 
 
 AI^L RIGHTS -RESERVED 
 
PART ONE 
 
RESGUiNG THE GZAR 
 
 ■^/f/fOREWOR-D 
 
 ' ° ' -by° " 
 
 W. E. Aughinbaugh, M.D., LL.B., LL.M. 
 
 Is the former Czar and his Imperial family still alive? 
 There are millions of people in Europe and America who 
 are asking this question. 
 
 European governments have considered the question 
 of sufficient interest to justify the investigation by official 
 bodies of the alleged extinction of this ancient Royal 
 Line. Millions have been expended for that purpose. 
 Commissions have pretended to investigate the subject 
 after the event. Volumes have been returned of a specu- 
 lative nature to authenticate a mysterious disappear- 
 ance that has never been explained. 
 
 April 5; the Universal Service carried a cable from 
 Paris reading: "Czar Nicholas and all members of the 
 Imperial family of Russia are still alive, according to 
 M. Lassies, former member of the Chamber of Deputies, 
 who has just returned from a mission to Russia." This 
 was several weeks after the manuscript of the following 
 account of the Czar's Escape was in my possession* 
 Yet this confirmation of the manuscript has not suffi- 
 ciently overcome the universally persistent doubt that 
 has grown out of many previous imposing reports. 
 
 *February 20, 1920 
 
 VII 
 
• "KOMWORb- 
 
 In certain RcJy^t.* quarters the ap:!iiety to disseminate 
 the "reports" of their.' Qemmissfphs, ts too apparent to 
 authorize a judicial JninU' to* 'accept "their. , speculative 
 guesswork as conv.incing evidence of £i'Jeg&l corpus 
 delicti when no.ic^-entified bodies havp'eVe'r. been pro- 
 duced. This eagethpSgrf©. convince. th^Votl'd by substi- 
 tuting a mere disappeartirtpe, dl-.'-tFie Tack.df evidence, for 
 positive proof of the Royal. ^sSassfnation raises very 
 naturally the presumption that certain circles are more 
 interested in misleading than in satisfying the public 
 mind. ' 
 
 To those schooled in the methods and objects of inter- 
 national propaganda during the Great War it is evident 
 that, in a period of revolution, when thrones and dynas- 
 ties become unpopular within the area of hostility and 
 discontent, the adherents of Royalty may not be unwill- 
 ing to appease the demand for vengeance by some 
 theatrical display of meeting it with a pretense or an 
 artifice until the passions of the populace have subsided 
 and sober toleration resumes its sway over the sated 
 revolutionary mind. 
 
 That such may be the fact will seem convincing from 
 a careful study of the incidents narrated in the following 
 rudimentary story of "Rescuing the Czar." In a tech- 
 nical sense it is not a story. Nevertheless, while par- 
 taking of the nature of a simple diary, it reads like a 
 romance of thrilling adventure upon which a skilful 
 novelist may easily erect a story of permanent interest 
 and universal appeal. But it is this very lack of art — 
 this indifference to accomplished technique — that makes 
 "Rescuing the Czar" so interesting and so convincing 
 a rebuttal of the Royal Executioners' Case. 
 
 There have been many periods in the progress of society 
 when such an original piece of work as "Rescuing the 
 Czar" would have been welcomed by the historian of 
 serious events. The preservation, discovery and the 
 
 VIII 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 piecing together of the various scraps of first-hand infor- 
 mation by the actual participants in the tragic scenes 
 narrated in these diaries, by the compiler of this book 
 represent a work of so discriminating a judgment that its 
 contribution ' to the historical wealth of the period in- 
 volved will assume an increasing, if not a prophetic, 
 value as time goes on, either to explain the mystery or 
 authenticate the evidence revealed. While apparently 
 no connection is evident between the two authors of the 
 First and Second Parts of "Rescuing the Czar," the dis- 
 criminating reader will be impressed by the independent 
 way each of them, operating unconsciously of the other, 
 sustains the manifest conclusion that both are recording 
 international secrets that never were intended for the 
 public eye. 
 
 Imbedded in the national consciousness of many Euro- 
 pean States the historian finds everywhere the shadowy 
 outlines of "nobility" and "aristocracy" delineated on 
 the surface of traditionary pretense and political desire. 
 It forms the inheritance of distributive power in nations 
 ascending from monarchial institutions to theoretical 
 republics or pseudo-democracies; and it imparts a touch 
 of pathos to the lingering hope of Royalty that humanity 
 may some day welcome its return to reverence and power. 
 It forms the superstructure on which the crumbling col- 
 umn of aristocracy sustains its capital pretensions amid 
 the ruins of privileged exemption from the universal law 
 of change. Consequently the reader will not be surprised 
 nor much alarmed when encountering its subterranean 
 methods depicted in these pages. They will merely for- 
 tify the accepted impression among students of events 
 that when Time binds up the wounds of Revolutionary 
 Russia the world will discover an Agrarian Democracy, 
 instead of a Soviet Communism or Romanoff Empire, 
 emerging from the cosmos of organized disorder in that 
 land. This seems to be the trend of thought behind 
 
 IX 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 "Rescuing the Czar." Yet it does not conceal a funda- 
 mental inclination to sympathize with every rank that 
 suffers in this onward sweep of power. Royalty and 
 Rags, throughout these pages, find many mourners over 
 the sacrifices each has made to reconcile the eternal con- 
 flict between poverty and pomp. In the abysmal void 
 between the disappearing star and the aspiring glow- 
 worm men tramp upon, there seems to be sufficient latitude 
 for the play of gratitude or grief. A Napoleon exiled by 
 the French or a Ney shot down by Frenchmen is unthink- 
 able today. In like manner, when the revolutionary 
 passions of Russia have subsided, there may be men and 
 women of the humblest estate who will wonder how it 
 happened that their Emperor, whose darkest sin, appar- 
 ently, was loyalty to Russia, could have been murdered 
 by their countrymen in cold blood. 
 
 It will never be believed. 
 
 In reflecting on the experiments of their Revolution, 
 finding much to be admired and more to be condemned, 
 they will not accept without resentment an accusation 
 from posterity that they lacked both gratitude and pity 
 when the test of national manhood came. In exculpation 
 of such an imputation they will doubtless reverence the 
 tradition of a House that fell only with the ruins of their 
 native land. Viewing as they may the fragments of their 
 once majestic Empire annexed to alien States in com- 
 pensation of successful perfidy and neglect, they will 
 lament the lot of Nicholas 1 1 while reflecting on their fate. 
 If their democracy shall survive their own self-amputa- 
 tion, the lightness of their governmental burdens will 
 stimulate the flow of mercy through their social institu- 
 tions and direct their thoughts toward pity for the use- 
 less sacrifice. 
 
 In simple justice, therefore, "Rescuing the Czar" is 
 offered in extenuation of this doubtful charge against the 
 entire Russian race. For nothing is better calculated to 
 
 X 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 sanctify a martyrdom and make a race abhorred than a 
 belief in its injustice. Nothing is more potent to dissolve 
 a race and scatter its suspected members from the altar 
 of their fathers than the fable of their unrepentant 
 hostility to the cry of Mercy from the sacrificial Ikon. 
 Nothing so quickly exposes their abandoned fields to the 
 tramp of hostile feet and the subjugation of their soil. 
 Ambitious rivalry has no better ally than unexplained 
 suspicion. 
 
 If "Rescuing the Czar" does no more than set at rest 
 the/a6/e of the "Romanoff Execution," it will have done 
 its work by characterizing the source and methods and 
 objects of its inspiration. If it raises the presumption of 
 generosity in quarters generally subject to suspicion, it 
 will be equally praiseworthy for expelling the darkness 
 that has always hovered around Imperial thrones. If it 
 does nothing but portray the dignified composure of 
 Russian womanhood in the presence of unspeakable 
 affronts, it will have justified its publication by adding to 
 the diadem of virtue a few more jewels to glorify the 
 crest of motherhood. I f it performs no other service than 
 to place upon the pale face of tragic possibility the red- 
 pink blush of romantic probabilities, it will have justified 
 its presence in the society of the learned by the sincerity 
 of its purpose and the candor of its appeal to the con- 
 science of the world. 
 
 New York, 1920. 
 
 XI 
 
Rescuing The Czar 
 
 FROM SPLENDOR TO GLOOM 
 
 The ice was breaking up along the river Neva, in 
 1917. At the Winter Palace, the ladies were rejoic- 
 ing over the good news. The Czar in the field was 
 reorganizing his dismembered armies. America was 
 severing diplomatic relations with the Central 
 Powers. The Asquith Ministry had dissolved and 
 Lloyd-George was hurling his dynamic personality 
 into organizing Victory for the Allied forces in the 
 field. Kut-el-Amara had fallen to the British — 
 Bagdad had been taken — the Crescent was fleeing 
 before the Cross of Russia — the Grand Duke was 
 driving the Turk from Trebizond. Even Hindenburg 
 was retiring along the Western Front — France with 
 unexampled gallantry was holding back the Jugger- 
 naut — ^America was getting mad and rolling up its 
 sleeves. 
 
 The women at the palace did not disguise their 
 happiness over the cheerful events that heralded the 
 approach of Victory. The evening star that poured 
 down its steel-blue rays upon the crosses of St. Isaac's 
 presaged to their encouraged fancies the early dawn 
 of peace. Yet the chilly wind that whistled round 
 
 13 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 their dull-red household was laden with a frosty air 
 that blew from official regions and "froze the genial 
 current of their souls." The icy glances of ambitious 
 princelings, reflecting back the sinister sullenness of 
 designing ministers, fell like a spectral gloom upon 
 their happy hearts. A hollow roar rolled down the 
 Nevskii Prospekt — a guard burst into the palace and 
 put the women under arrest. The pent-up Revolu- 
 tion at last had burst — anarchy howled around the 
 capital — the isolated Czar was captive, and plotting 
 princelings joined hands with puny lawyers to brow- 
 beat courageous women and drive the chariot of 
 State! 
 
 The miserable fiasco of a delirious Revolution went 
 careering through the giddy maze of treachery and 
 madness until a frenzied wave of rapine and disorder 
 swept all the noblewomen of the Imperial household 
 into a barricaded fortress around which lust and 
 inebriety held unsated and remorseless vigil for the 
 prize. (See Part II : Tumen.) 
 
 Among these prisoners of State were five women 
 who realized that the Power which had organized 
 disorder as a' feature of its military strategy had also 
 honeycombed the Army, the Navy and the State with 
 its agencies of pillage and so undermined the public 
 conscience that their purity and virtue, more than 
 their jewels and fortune, became an open challenge 
 to the vanity of mob lust. 
 
 The younger of these women in their unsullied 
 maidenhood looked longingly and unsuspectingly in 
 the direction of Siberia. They were learning by 
 
 14 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 degrees that the semblance of freedom which offered 
 a pathway to escape was nothing but a strategem 
 employed by pretended friends to entrap them into 
 more cruel and ruthless hands. On every side loomed 
 the evidence of their danger. The villainous stares of 
 foreign interlopers, the ribald jests of guards, the 
 furtive glances of the envious, the scowls of the 
 emancipated underling, the profanity of the dom- 
 ineering agitator who denounced respectability and 
 clamored for possession of the girls, — no moment of 
 their lives was free from ugly threats ; no retreat, save 
 the wild jungle or the mountains, offered any libera- 
 tion from the immodest glare of cruel, licentious 
 eyes. (See Part II : Tobolsk.) 
 
 The eldest of the girls was scarcely twenty-two. 
 Like her mother, she was erect and stately and some- 
 what saddened by the hostile experiences through 
 which the family had just passed. The youngest was 
 a chummy little creature of sixteen years who did not 
 conceal her admiration for her next elder sister, whose 
 courage seemed unfailing through all the trying hours. 
 The next eldest sister, with her little younger brother, 
 was openly planning to outwit the guard and escape 
 to the Siberian wilds. It was doubtless her undis- 
 guised activity that ultimately betrayed the Royal 
 prisoners into the unhappy tangle that beset their 
 future lives. 
 
 From one camp to another they were carted off like 
 cattle and never for a moment permitted to forget 
 that, if they ever reached a place of safety, they would 
 have to pay the price. Along the frozen pathway of 
 
 15 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 their weary eastern journey there did come, here and 
 there, some slender little byways that offered an 
 escape. Whenever they approached these places and 
 estimated the perils, they found no one to confide in — 
 there were none that they could trust. Treason, like 
 a contagion, lurked in smiles as well as scowls about 
 them, and even their steadfast trust in the Invisible 
 Diplomacy of European Royalty was gradually 
 yielding in their hearts to the dissolving acid of 
 despair. (See Part II : Tobolsk.) 
 
 From the conflicting rumors that reached them 
 they fully realized that it was the politician in all 
 countries who ignorantly obstructed their relief. The 
 ferocious and misleading propaganda employed to 
 fanaticize the populace as an element of military 
 strategy seemed to sweep its own authors from their 
 feet and drag the prisoners through many months of 
 torture toward a time and place set for their execution 
 by other politicians in the drunken stupor of their 
 power. (See Part II : Tobolsk.) 
 
 Under the agitated surface of this tidal wave of 
 fanaticism that threatened to engulf the Royal 
 prisoners there were a few men in Europe and 
 America, as well as in India and Thibet, who were 
 slowly converging in the direction of the victims with 
 a phrase upon their lips that none but Royalty and 
 themselves were privileged to use. It was that 
 ancient secret code transmitted by tradition to the 
 followers of a sturdy Tyrian king. It was made use 
 of by Lycurgus, as well as by Solomon and Justinian ; 
 and it was again employed by the partisans of 
 
 16 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Louis XVIII to save the House of Bourbon. It is 
 that mystic code which binds Royalty together and 
 is given only to those whom Royalty may trust. 
 That ancient code meant freedom if it reached the 
 prisoners in time! It rested with these silent men to 
 pass the scrutiny of a million eyes to liberate the 
 victims from the fury of the mob. 
 
 Such a rescue, as time swept by, became nothing 
 but a slender hope with any of the women. They 
 began to realize that their blood would not very 
 greatly shock the nerves of statesmen who had 
 become accustomed to the daily cataract that poured 
 down upon the soil of Europe. They felt abandoned 
 by the diplomats. Their only friends were busy in 
 the red work of war. One chance alone remained. 
 Soldiers might be deceived by men disguised as com- 
 rades. The Secret Service might overlook the 
 hysterical entertainers who fluttered under the mask 
 of charitable workers and skipped across forbidden 
 lines protected by a Cross. This was the only possi- 
 bility, this the phantom hope that stood trembling 
 on the brink of the prisoners' abysmal fear. Thus 
 the sight of a Red Cross driver or an English uniform 
 in the midst of their disaster became a welcome inci- 
 dent in the lives of these affronted women. The 
 appearance of either seemed to carry to the prisoners 
 a spirit of encouragement and reflect a ray of mercy 
 into the dark corners of their hearts. They indulged 
 the hope that some of those foreign uniforms might 
 conceal trustworthy friends. And they recognized a 
 basis for such a hope in the mystifying movements of 
 
 17 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 one of those uniforms that met their notice day by 
 day. It was near them at the palace when they were 
 thrown upon a maddened world. They saw it follow- 
 ing onward as they passed through pathless wilds. 
 They could see it hovering near them on that last 
 historic night. They learned about its maneuvers in 
 the morning as it moved among the silent rooms of 
 the pretty mansard cottage that had witnessed their 
 withdrawal from the vision of historical events, — how 
 it had paused to scan without emotion the small 
 blood stain on the floor — how an agitated censor 
 informed the credulous that the prisoners had been 
 murdered in cold blood ! Thus they learned that the 
 world had heard with skepticism that, so far as 
 history and international politicians were affected, 
 their seven lives had been, technically, blotted out! 
 (See Part II : Petrograd — ^Tumen — ^Tobolsk.) 
 
 Possibly the Prisoners of Tobolsk may have been 
 willing to suffer what is termed a "technical death" 
 in diplomatic circles in order to elude the hungry 
 bloodhounds of the Revolution. They may have 
 welcomed the many opportunities such an event 
 would furnish to read their own obituary in the letters 
 and official documents which treated of their tragic 
 fate. Who knows? They certainly possessed a 
 saving sense of humor or they would never have left 
 behind them at Ekaterinburg so many little remind- 
 ers of the tragic romance to which calm investiga- 
 tion hereafter will give birth. For instance, there are 
 a couple of diaries that some men must have kept. 
 Of their existence it seems certain that some of the 
 
 18 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 prisoners knew. Why and just how the hitherto 
 profound State secrets narrated in these diaries come 
 now to light is suggested by a simple little letter that 
 raises the inquiry, "Did the Imperial Russian family 
 escape?" 
 
 The letter that started this investigation is little 
 different from others one receives from friends travel- 
 ing in the Orient. By itself it does not clearly identify 
 the family it describes ; but, when the scene it pictures 
 is coupled with the events narrated in the purloined 
 diaries which the hands of some invisible diplomats 
 have left behind, the student of the Russian Revolu- 
 tion will marvel at the skill with which some other 
 Royal hands untied the knot of Fate. 
 
 II 
 
 WHAT MAY BE READ BETWEEN THE LINES 
 
 There may be those in ofificial circles who will 
 suggest that a case of mistaken identity is exhibited 
 in the following quotation from the letter. " It is in a 
 sort of arboreal enclosure, with all sorts of flowers and 
 vigorous vegetation that characterizes this region," 
 the letter reads. "Behind the ivy-covered wall that 
 extends around the gardens and shuts out all intrud- 
 ers, I got a glimpse of that man through the heavy 
 iron gate. He was smooth-shaven, slightly drooped, 
 sprinkled with gray and with a scar upon his forehead 
 near the roots of his hair — a little to one side. He 
 was twirling a pruning knife in his left hand and 
 
 19 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 speaking in English to a boy who scampered up to him 
 ahead of four beautiful girls and a very dignified 
 woman moving leisurely over the lawn in the direc- 
 tion of the gate. 
 
 "When the women reached the man's side they 
 paused for a moment and asked a few questions in 
 Russian. He seemed to be listening very attentively 
 and answering only in monosyllables. 
 
 "Then I noticed the elder of the women unfold a 
 well-known London newspaper and move closer to 
 his side. They began glancing over its pages together 
 and seemed to be deeply moved by an article they, 
 apparently, were reading as they walked slowly 
 toward the gate. Finally, when they were about ten 
 feet from where I stood concealed behind one of 
 the massive palms, the man raised his head from the 
 page and, looking earnestly into the woman's eyes, 
 exclaimed in a skeptical tone: 'II n'aurait jamais 
 cru le fait si ces messieurs navaient pu lui jurer 
 lavoir vu! ... Tout ce que fai predit! ... Les faux 
 nobles, — les plagiaires!' which means in English, 
 "He couldn't have believed the thing unless these 
 gentlemen had sworn they witnessed it! . . . . All 
 that I predicted! .... The sham nobles! .... 
 the stealing authors!' The comment set me think- 
 ing. 
 
 "Who ii he? I asked myself. Inside of five minutes 
 I had heard him speak in English, in Russian and in 
 French ! I am certain that he is not a Frenchman, — 
 although his accent would have proclaimed him a 
 native of the Avenue des Champs Elysees. He had a 
 
 20 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Danish countenance, the eyes of English Royalty 
 and the forehead of an early Christian martyr. 
 
 "No one I have talked to on the island seems 
 certain of his identity. Some take the view that he 
 is a retired millionaire, judging from the refined 
 simplicity of his family and the strict guard the 
 Government has furnished to protect his undisturbed 
 retirement. Others hint that he may be, possibly, 
 some very high dignitary, judging from the almost 
 Royal homage that some people in the city pay to 
 his person and family. 
 
 "The only reliable information I got about him was 
 that he arrived upon the island aboard a man-o'-war 
 accompanied by one of the richest tea merchants in 
 the Empire. He declines all membership in any of 
 the clubs, apparently satisfied to spend the time 
 among his orchids and the lovely white-robed 
 debutantes I saw blooming in that fascinating 
 garden. 
 
 "Naturally I was very curious about the identity 
 of this secluded family. But the only information 
 given out about them by the chivalrous tea merchant 
 or the Government officials is simply, 'Oh, the family 
 have friends in India and are living in retirement.'" 
 
 One would be very bold to say, after reading the 
 foregoing, that the personages described were the 
 same people who had been driven out of the Winter 
 Palace upon the ebb-tide of their Imperial splendor 
 a few months before. Yet a long and somewhat 
 intimate interest in the underground diplomacy of 
 the world will lead one thus engaged to piece together 
 
 21 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 stray bits of gossip that come from different sources 
 to check up the information that some others may 
 possess. In this way will the letter of an American 
 who was held incommunicado at Geneva by the Swiss 
 Government in the latter part of 1919, be found 
 exceedingly persuasive in the process of reconstruct- 
 ing the tragic comedy which struts around the vacant 
 Russian throne. The American was en route to Tur- 
 kestan under proper credentials from the United 
 States ; yet there were certain powerful combinations 
 sufficiently interested in his mission to cause his 
 imprisonment for a time sufficiently lengthy to enable 
 their emissaries to precede him beyond the Caspian, 
 where other secret combinations were incubating that 
 American foreign traders would have given much to 
 understand. 
 
 It was during this period of restraint that the 
 American, whose name we will call Fox, wrote to a 
 friend in the United States: "You have often heard 
 me speak of my brother who was in Turkestan when 
 the Russian Revolution burst upon the world. He is 
 now resting in Tasmania after going through one of 
 the most remarkable experiences ever given to an 
 ordinary tea merchant intrusted with some secrets of 
 the greatest land monopoly in the world. You may call 
 it a fairy tale; and if you did not know me as a 
 business man of ordinary sense, I should hesitate to 
 
 intimate that Nicholas R and all the family are 
 
 quite well, I thank you, not a million miles distant 
 from my brother.", 
 
 Fox had learned from his experience at Geneva that 
 
 22 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 governments are sometimes cajoled by diplomatic 
 pressure to do undreamed-of things. The dispatch 
 of an expeditionary force to Siberia by the United 
 States without a declaration of war against the 
 Revolutionists struck him as an instance' of this kind, 
 and he knew his correspondent to be sufficiently 
 versed in the underground politics of Europe to look 
 for a connection between some member of that 
 expedition and the subject mentioned in the two 
 foregoing letters. This connection was innocently 
 revealed by a newspaper report from a Western city 
 concerning a wounded soldier who had recently 
 returned to an American Army hospital. The par- 
 ticular name being given, it was easy enough for Fox's 
 correspondent to meet the soldier on some errand of 
 mercy and to obtain the revelations that are herein- 
 after made. 
 
 The soldier was a young commissioned officer who 
 was having an artificial jaw supplied to replace the 
 one shot off in a Bolshevik encounter. He had 
 greatly recovered when the call was made and an 
 opening naturally presented for the soldier to recount 
 the part he played in the adventure of his country in 
 the Revolutionary drama of that hour. 
 
 "I'm as certain as I'm living," the wounded soldier 
 said, "that a Bolshevik is as 'nutty' as a rabbit. The 
 fellow I had by the neck before my lights went out 
 was putting up a holler, in German, and claiming to 
 be a personal friend of some personal friend of the 
 missing Czar. Before he finally passed in his chips 
 he gave me a bundle of paper diaries he had stolen 
 
 23 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 down in China, and he asked me to return them to 
 their rightful owner so that he might die without a 
 sin upon his conscience. Honestly, that chap was 
 dead in earnest in this matter of his conscience. I 
 took the stuff, of course ; but I never thought about 
 them until the other day. Since then they seem to 
 haunt me. I wonder if you'd mind looking them 
 over if the nurse'd get them out?" 
 
 "With pleasure," was the reply. 
 
 The nurse brought in an old leather bag, from which 
 the Captain extracted two begrimed and blood- 
 smeared rolls written in a very small but strong and 
 vigorous hand. 
 
 While looking over the documents in a casual way 
 
 a loose leaf fell to the floor. Upon picking it up, 
 
 there was found to be written on one side in bold 
 
 underscored letters : 
 
 "Make no belief in the evidence that was 
 manufactured to satisfy some bloodthirsty 
 men in Russia. What I have seen with 
 my own eyes I know is true. For the sake 
 of Russia I stoled these papers from the 
 man come from the West who was with 
 them all the way from 'Yekaterinburg to 
 Chunking. What he write is true. 
 
 "DONETSKY" 
 
 "That's his name," the Captain said, "and if you 
 don't find that he was as crazy as a bedbug I'll say 
 I'm General Graves." 
 
 "This diary seems to be written in very good 
 English." 
 
 "Yes," said the Captain, "all those fellows keep 
 one. They're like the Germans — give 'em a pencil 
 
 24 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 and a piece of paper and they'll scribble all day." 
 
 "Did he say who wrote this?" 
 
 "No; he cashed in, as I told you; but you'll see the 
 name of Fox here and there through the diary that's 
 written in the small hand." 
 
 "Fox — who was 'Fox'?" 
 
 "Search me! Some Johnny, I suppose." 
 
 "May I take these with me?" 
 
 "Sure thing! I'll make you a present of 'em. All 
 I ask is, if you find out whether that fellow 'Fox' 
 grabs the peacherino from the Metropole or the one 
 called 'Maria' you'll send me an invitation." 
 
 The bargain was struck. Then the question was 
 asked: "Any idea who wrote this diary — ^the one 
 written in a quick running hand?' 
 
 "Sounds like some fellow with a grouch against 
 Kerensky and Lvov. I know enough Russian to 
 make out that much — " 
 
 "Evidently one of the Revolutionary officials?" 
 
 "Seems so," the Captain said. "You'll notice 
 what he has to say about the mixup with the Russian 
 Royal family at Tobolsk and Tumen. There's a lot 
 of our fellows who don't take any stock in that assas- 
 sination business at 'Katerinburg." 
 
 "I began to read: 'I had walked from Huston 
 Station to Madame Tussaud's, when the messenger 
 jumped from his motorcycle and rushed up to me — ' 
 Your diarist starts out in London, I see." 
 
 "Yes, he is some globe trotter — " 
 
 Go to Birdcage and walk slowly back to Queen 
 
 Victoria Memorial. As you pass Buckingham, 
 
 25 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 observe the heavily veiled lady wearing white lace 
 wristlets who will follow on behind. Let her overtake 
 you. If she utters the correct phrase, go with her at 
 once to Admiralty Arch and follow the Life Guard 
 to the War Office. Meet number .... there; 
 receive a small orange-colored packet, wear the shirt 
 he gives you, and cross the Channel at once'" — I see! 
 From Buckingham Palace to the War Office ; sounds 
 interesting." 
 
 "It is; that fellow is all there!" complimented the 
 Captain. 
 
 "'The meeting at the Huis ten-Bosch points to 
 Wilhelmstrasse. Nothing can be done here. They 
 suspect Downing Street.' — ^Ah, at The Hague, and at 
 the ten-Bosch too, where the Czar and Andrew 
 Carnegie held their first Peace Conference in 1899; 
 this looks significant!" 
 
 "Keep going," said the Captain; "that fellow's got 
 'The Man in the Iron Mask' brushed off the map." 
 
 "Here is something singular about Berlin. Your 
 man walks through the lines like a wraith — " 
 
 "Not always. As you get into his stuff you'll hear 
 things sizzle." 
 
 And thus the Imperial dead return to life through 
 the pages of these stolen diaries. 
 
 While the temptation is great to revise the manu- 
 script, so as to make it read more smoothly, it has 
 been decided not to alter a line or letter. Truth will 
 be better served by publishing what is prudent, under 
 the complicated political circumstances of our times, 
 word for word as it was written by its daring author. 
 
 26 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 III 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT BERLIN 
 
 For certain persuasive reasons it is deemed prudent 
 to omit that part of the diary which details the 
 writer's experiences in England, Belgium and Hol- 
 land. Those who recognize the incidents hereafter 
 given will appreciate this act of censorship. The 
 discerning reader will gain all the information neces- 
 sary by following the "Invisible Diplomat" and 
 author from Berlin to the end of the diary. 
 
 The first entry reads : 
 
 "Today I called on Count R at Thiergarten- 
 
 strasse 23 and handed him the yellow packet. Then 
 I went with him to the race track at Hoppegarten. 
 .... On the way out R. inquired about the inci- 
 dent at Buckingham and asked me if I were willing 
 
 to continue the adventure I assured him 
 
 that nothing would please me better, providing the 
 
 lady was good-looking He said that there 
 
 were more than ONE lady as well as a couple of men 
 
 involved in the affair I replied that if there 
 
 were enough to go around and the men didn't become 
 too meddlesome, their presence wouldn't spoil the 
 'adventure.' . . . He assured me that the men 
 were 'fine fellows,' the ladies the loveliest on earth, 
 but the 'adventure' was one that might mean decap- 
 
 27 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 itation for me if I failed in the undertaking 
 
 I told him that just suited me 'I expect to 
 
 meet Colonel Z S von T at the track. 
 
 If he takes a liking to you he'll invite you to Koenig- 
 
 ergratzerstrasse for a quiet little talk,' Count R 
 
 replied after I had climbed up on the box with him. 
 .... We had just reached the old saddle paddock 
 when a man saluted us in a very knowing manner. 
 
 .... It was Colonel Z S , who put some 
 
 pointed questions to me about my recent travels and 
 
 my knowledge of Oriental languages Before 
 
 returning to the hotel tonight the Colonel asked me to 
 
 call on him tomorrow I feel that his request 
 
 amounts to a positive command I shall call 
 
 early in the morning " 
 
 4. On the same page the following entry was made : 
 "There were guards everywhere when I called at 
 K-70. Even the doorkeeper was a non-com, who 
 took my name, entered it in a book with the precise 
 time I called, took down his telephone, merely men- 
 tioned my name, hung up the receiver, called an 
 orderly who conducted me through a corridor and 
 three anterooms full of civilian clerks and finally 
 
 landed me in the private office of Colonel Z 
 
 S . He wore the undress uniform of the Impe- 
 rial Army, greeted me pleasantly, offered me a cigar 
 and tactfully asked: 'Have you positively made up 
 your mind to continue in this service?' 
 
 "I wanted to know a little more fully what was 
 required of me before answering; but he did not say. 
 He insisted, rather, on my answering his question 
 
 28 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 FIRST. . . . To be perfectly frank I was not 
 anxious to commit myself unreservedly without 
 knowing ALL he expected of me, but it sounded 
 cowardly .... so with a mental reservation I 
 finally said : 'You don't look like a man who would 
 ask another to commit suicide. Go ahead! I've 
 
 decided to take a chance.' .... Colonel Z 
 
 S looked me straight in the eye and said : "We 
 
 expect you to use the same tactics that are used 
 
 against you. We can't be squeamish The 
 
 interests at stake are too sacred to allow personal 
 
 considerations to affect your conduct You 
 
 will be required to undertake a journey in the capac- 
 ity of a guide How you make it will be left 
 
 entirely to yourself but we expect results. . . . 
 
 Every resource will be placed at your disposal, but 
 if YOU get into trouble you'll have to get yourself 
 
 out without calling on us for help We must 
 
 not be known in the matter. And understand this — 
 the assignment is dangerous from start to finish; 
 no official help can be given you under ANY cir- 
 cumstances.' .... To get a line on things I asked, 
 
 casually, what my compensation would be 
 
 He replied: 'You will be allowed a regular retainer 
 fee, an allowance for daily expenses and a bonus 
 sufficiently attractive to make the undertaking worth 
 while, as you should know.' I thought a little while 
 before asking, 'When do I start?' .... 'There's 
 another thing,' he said. 'I suppose you know we 
 retain one-third of your fee for the benefit of your 
 family in the event of any trouble.' .... I merely 
 
 29 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 nodded and said, "All right.' 
 
 In a moment a clerk brought in a check for 
 
 400, which Colonel Z S gave me, saying: 
 
 'This is your first month's allowance for expenses; 
 your retainer will be paid quarterly.' .... 'How 
 do you KNOW I won't swindle you?' I asked, being 
 a perfect stranger to him. ' I am taking my ORDERS 
 
 from above,' he answered 'Who?' I asked. 
 
 'Young man!' he thundered, 'learn this QUICK — 
 don't ask questions; keep your ears and eyes open 
 
 and your mouth SHUT Be here at 10 
 
 tomorrow.' 
 
 5. The next entry of interest read as follows: 
 
 ' ' I met Colonel Z S at 1 today. My head 
 
 was not clear. Guess I had too much at Kempinsky's 
 
 last night A saturnalia of spending on the 
 
 theory that the Allies will pay Even the ride 
 
 in the Grunewald this morning didn't clear the cob- 
 webs away. I was constantly thinking of that girl 
 at the Metropole with her long eyelashes and dim- 
 pling smile ; resembles the veiled lady at Buckingham, 
 — and I was trying to make out why she managed to 
 occupy a seat at the next table to mine at the 
 Admiral's Palace an hour or two later. She seems 
 to know some of the performers who mingled in 
 the audience, especially the energetic dark-eyed 
 Circe with the Greek nose, and said to be some 
 sort of a Baroness, who so often approached my 
 table. I wonder what the connection is between 
 
 30 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 these two There is certainly some sym- 
 pathetic tie between those girls! This I know, for 
 when I had breakfast at the Cafe Bauer, U. d. L., 
 they were BOTH there, slightly disguised, and 
 occupying the same table! .... Who is Syvo- 
 rotka? Her lover? .... I wonder what the game 
 is Come to think about it, the titled per- 
 former of the Metropole looks like a twin sister of 
 Marie Amelia, Countess of [Cszecheny] Chechany, a 
 perfect composite of Juno and Venus and Hebe all 
 
 rolled into one These enigmatical personages 
 
 crowded everything else out of my mind as I walked 
 
 into Colonel Z S 's office 
 
 ". . . . Without any preliminaries he said, 'Come 
 with me !'.... We entered a cab and a few minutes 
 later I entered the Wilhelmstrasse and was in the 
 presence of that tall, iron-gray, wiry gentleman with 
 eyes like a searchlight and the manners of a Chester- 
 field. 'Thank you. Colonel,' he said. The Colonel 
 sprang to attention, bowed, saluted and backed 
 away. We were ALONE! .... 'In ten minutes,' 
 he said, 'you will be conducted to another room. 
 When you arrive advance to the middle, make a right 
 wheel and stand at attention facing the portiere. 
 Maintain perfect silence, answer all question, — make 
 NO inquiries — understand ?'....! was taken down- 
 stairs, along a wide corridor to a solid-oak door 
 guarded by two sentries and an attendant in the 
 Royal livery. The door was opened by an officer of 
 the Erste Garde ; I entered a large room, advanced to 
 the center and faced the divided , portieres of an 
 
 31 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 adjoining chamber! There sat the man whose nod 
 shook the earth! .... Behind a heavy, old- 
 fashioned desk, in a dim light, apparently absorbed 
 in writing, sat a deeply tanned, lean-faced, blue- 
 gray-eyed counterpart of Frederick the Great, — the 
 very embodiment of Majesty! .... Eyes that 
 blazed in their defiant depths with a steady and con- 
 suming fire — the kind of eyes that seem to defy the 
 
 world I stood there fully five minutes before 
 
 I heard the sharp, high-pitched voice pierce through 
 
 the portiere saying: "Adell, I will see the C ' 
 
 .... I was conducted to within six feet of the man 
 at the desk and in the same shrill voice asked how 
 familiar I was with Russia, with Turkestan, India, 
 
 and the Far East My answers seemed to 
 
 convince my questioner Handing me a note 
 
 he said: "No one besides ourselves is to know that 
 you are to undertake the mission outlined in that 
 note.' Then he sat forward abruptly, his elbows 
 resting on the desk, his head between his hands, his 
 
 eyes fixed on space I began to study the 
 
 note I was dumfounded! .... I had 
 
 thought all along that this man was the mortal 
 enemy of the persons this note commanded me to 
 
 rescue from danger I could not understand 
 
 HOW there could be the slightest co-operation 
 between this man and the other great ones of the 
 earth that note commanded me to call upon for 
 assistance in case I should need it. It was utterly 
 incomprehensible ! Yet THERE were the directions 
 in plain black and white And I could not ask 
 
 32 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 a solitary question! .... In the same shrill voice 
 the man asked: 'Have you memorized it?' I had! 
 It was burned into my very soul. I could not forget 
 a syllable of it! . . . . Without another word he 
 took the note, struck a match and watched it curl 
 
 into shapeless ashes Then making a quick 
 
 gesture he plunged into the documents before him. 
 .... I backed away until the door closed and shut 
 out the sight of the lonely figure enveloped in a green 
 light, his face illuminated against the shadowy back- 
 ground of an underground chamber of the Foreign 
 
 OfBce On the way to Friedrichstrasse depot 
 
 I met that girl of the Metropole again ! 
 
 33 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 IV 
 
 WHEN ROYALTY GETS IDOUBLE-CROSSED 
 
 6. The next entry was : 
 
 "On the Orient Express, or what was the O. E. 
 before the 'Crosse General Stab' took over the whole 
 
 job of mixing up these schedules Well, well, 
 
 well, the veiled lady of the Metropole and Bucking- 
 ham is in trouble in the next compartment .... at 
 least so she says ! . . . . She just came into my com- 
 partment and said she had been insulted by the man 
 
 who is sharing it with her Confound him! 
 
 .... BUT .... Now I've heard of such 'plants' 
 
 before While I'd like to go in there and kick 
 
 the brute through the partitions I believe discretion 
 
 is the better part of valor Let her call the 
 
 guard if the case needs attention The guard 
 
 is a reservist and I believe she knows it 
 
 Furthermore, I must be at Donaustrasse 24, Buda- 
 pest, tomorrow, and meet Colonel Shuvalov at the 
 
 Hotel de Paris, Belgrade, the day after I 
 
 wonder if that petit Paris looks the same as when I 
 met my old friend Count Arthur Zu Weringrode and 
 Kazimir Galitzyn coquetting with Cecilia Coursan, 
 Mile. Balniaux and the Petite Valon at the card 
 tables after our sparkling dinners a few years ago. 
 .... And where is that fire-eating Prince now? 
 .... He was a great friend of Grey and Churchill 
 
 34 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 at Monte Carlo .... and notwithstanding that 
 meeting in the Taunus they MUST BE friends YET. 
 .... The Monte Carlo combination HOLDS good 
 
 today The Taunus meeting so far as Haldane 
 
 and Winston Spencer were concerned was a frame- 
 up to catch Waechter and 'His Whiskers' (both the 
 
 Admiral and the General) That's where the 
 
 Wilhelmstrasse FELL DOWN ! . . . . and yet I am 
 on a mission of mercy, in behalf of one of the prin- 
 cipal double-crossers, today! .... Must see Koval- 
 
 sky at Donau 24 sure Mademoiselle must 
 
 take care of herself today " 
 
 The next entry read : 
 
 "This is a great combination — ^Roumania is side- 
 stepping Wilhelmstrasse Greece is tying up 
 
 with Servia, Bulgaria is likely to form a wedge 
 between a complete coalition of these mutually hating 
 and suspicious grafters .... Montenegro is the 
 only honest combination in the whole bunch. . . . 
 In another hour I will see Kovalsky and astonish him 
 with the news I bring." 
 
 7. Then the following entry: "K — is absolutely 
 
 opposed to taking any part in this business 
 
 Will not raise a hand without the sanction of 
 
 CHARLES Looks as though I'll have to 
 
 bring pressure on these despairing creatures 
 
 They wanted the Balkans, — that was the deal in 
 the Black Forest, — and because some one doesn't 
 hand it to them on a silver platter they complain 
 of der Grosse General Stab's neglect ! .... At two 
 I get my answer If O. K. I'll be in 
 
 35 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Odessa in 48 hours unless that veiled minx of the 
 
 Metropole sticks a knife under my fifth rib 
 
 Her conduct is becoming mighty suspicious! .... 
 Watch me give her a run for her money ! 
 
 8. Then there was this entry: "Charles refuses to 
 see me but tells K — not to put any obstacles in my 
 way. . . . this is a pretty mess! .... How in 
 the devil am I to slip through the lines with those 
 devilish English and French officers scattered around 
 everywhere? .... If Roumania had only listened to 
 reason! .... I think that Mackinzen will be able 
 to help me out, — I might as well ask Envir Pasha as 
 these dervishes of Sofia to lend a hand in this affair I 
 .... Yet I must, simply MUST be in Odessa in 
 time to meet Vladimir K before the order of execu- 
 tion! .... Either that — or jump into the Danube!" 
 
 9. The following entry is significant : "I have been 
 deaf, dumb and blind for the last 24 hours! The 
 veiled lady was responsible She had me kid- 
 napped and carried out into these infernal hills, 
 
 wherever they are Never saw them before. 
 
 .... Looks as if a cyclone hit them One 
 
 can pick up enough shells and scrap iron to stock a 
 
 foundry The trees are all shot off — nothing 
 
 but stumps and slivered trees and broken wheels and 
 
 boxes littered around Looks like SOME 
 
 FIGHT had taken place in this strong-smelling 
 hopyard among these hummocks Apparent- 
 ly the hogs have been rooting up the ground all 
 
 around here There isn't a sign of a living 
 
 thing in sight .... and not a drop of water to be 
 
 36 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 had! .... WHO was that woman? .... The 
 Baroness, who? .... Must find out more about 
 Syvorotka." 
 
 10. ". . . . Been tramping all day in the direction 
 of the rising sun Mud, mud, mud every- 
 where It may have been a good thing that I 
 
 wrote my brother Fox at Mendocino about this trip 
 
 before I set out If I am lost and this comes 
 
 into a white man's hands who understands America 
 
 he will know what to do with it Hunger and 
 
 thirst are delirious bed-fellows Seems like a 
 
 hundred years since I heard that Metropole woman's 
 voice when they were choking me in the carriage. 
 .... She was saying, 'Search him, search him; I 
 know he ran away with it ; it belonged to the Princess !' 
 Then that deep heavy voice : 'What did it look like?' 
 Every word he uttered seemed to add pneumatic 
 
 pressure to his grip on my neck 'It was 
 
 almost a light purple, the size of a hickory nut, 
 shaped like a pyramid and gives out the reflection of 
 
 a cluster of stars,' she cried like a wench 
 
 'Worth a great deal of money,' the deep voice 
 grunted as his hand pressed harder against my wind- 
 pipe 'Priceless!' she shrieked. 'It couldn't 
 
 be duplicated for 100,000 rubles; the most gorgeous 
 sapphire in the world !'.... 'Are you sure this man 
 has it?' ... . 'Certainly!' she insisted; 'didn't I see 
 that little wasp Kerensky give it to his cousin, and 
 didn't I see that cousin give it to this man in 
 America?' .... 'Who is this man?' he asked, 
 tightening his grip until my tongue hung out 
 
 ■?7 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 'They call him Fox on the west coast of America ; but 
 THAT is NOT his name,' was the last I remember 
 until I found myself lying on the roadside among the 
 
 hills back yonder I certainly DO resemble 
 
 my brother slightly and am hoping that if he has a 
 sapphire the size mentioned by that hissing vixen 
 he will keep it for the honor and glory of the family 
 
 of Foxes And to think that a few days ago 
 
 I was falling in love with her at the Metropole ! . . . . 
 If man is a meditating atom, WOMAN must be a 
 premeditating subterfuge! .... I see smoke rising 
 
 over the hills away to the east Yes, it's the 
 
 smoke of guns I can hear the hoarse roar of 
 
 heavy artillery to the right and the spitting hollow 
 barking and coughing of lighter pieces on the left 
 and I feel the ground quiver as I write these lines." 
 
 1 1 . The next entry read : 
 
 "What a somersault has taken place in the general 
 slippery coalitions of these capricious provinces! 
 Every Potsdammer, a little while ago, was counting 
 on Roumania! .... The breaking up of the con- 
 federation of the Balkan States under Russian 
 influence was what the Central Powers required; 
 while the Allies desired a broken Turkey and a strong 
 Balkan federation under Russian sway able to throw 
 a million men into the field against Turkey's north- 
 western frontier so as to keep Austria in check and 
 allow an easy glide of forces toward the Dardanelles. 
 .... Then Roumania was with the Wilhelmstrasse, 
 and Bulgaria was an ally of the Quay d'Orsay and the 
 Neva, but now the Osmanlian and the Bulgar and his 
 
 38 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 cousin Fritz are in the same bed snoring at the 
 Romans who look greedily toward Transylvania! 
 .... From what I can see I'm sure these Bulgars 
 will be first to give up the ghost, although when I 
 talk to Kovalsky and hear the whine of these Wien- 
 floss Kwabins I feel sure that they will be first to snap 
 for peace! .... I am writing this in a elaborately 
 furnished dugout that has been abandoned by some 
 German officers — I KNOW this because I found 
 several tubes of Erbswurst tucked in one of the 
 berths. With a little water I managed to make a 
 good meal which saved my life, — blessed be the 
 Goths or whoever it was who invented those com- 
 pressed sausages!" 
 
 12. The next entry: "I'm becoming worried 
 about the size of this diary .... getting so bulky as 
 to almost prevent concealment in case of capture. 
 .... Yet I know a way to prevent detection 
 . . so simple ! . . . . Usually the most elaborate 
 effort at concealment leads to detection while the 
 most obvious and simple will be entirely overlooked. 
 .... I'll try it and if it goes through I'll patent it! 
 . . . SOMEONE IS COMING,— sounds like a 
 dozen auto-trucks ! . . . . No, it's an aeroplane skir- 
 mishing mighty close to my headquarters 
 
 They've landed and are coming this way! .... 
 I'll be READY for them " 
 
 39 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 V 
 WHEN TITLED WOMEN STOOP TO CONQUER 
 
 13. The next entry: 
 
 "My ammunition was no good! .... But I am 
 at a loss to understand what they are trying to do 
 
 with ME Certainly I don't look like a very 
 
 important personage in my present state Yet 
 
 my captors are not treating me very badly .... 
 aside from being locked up in this deserted villa with 
 its broken chairs and vacant picture frames and 
 general air of hasty abandonment there's nothing to 
 disturb the tranquillity of my reflections except thp 
 recurring tramp of the muffled sentry below my 
 broken window .... this building has a sort of 
 
 Byzantine cut in its architectural design On 
 
 the other side of the valley there's a minaret or two 
 
 visible through the smoky haze Off to the 
 
 left I can make out quite distinctly the outlines of a 
 
 Greek Cross The road leading toward that 
 
 Cross looks like the work of a Muscovite engineer, — 
 
 which speaks well for it It's built of the same 
 
 material as the one over the mountains from Tiflis to 
 
 Vladicaucaz and Kislovodsk I MUST BE 
 
 ON RUSSIAN SOIL! .... But what is.mysfi/ying 
 to me is, how did that veiled girl of the Metropole 
 manage to know the SENTRY who is guarding my 
 person so methodically down below? .... She has 
 
 40 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 been here twice, now, and talks to him very confi- 
 dentially QUATSCH! if she thinks to find 
 
 any jewelry clinging to my person she'll have to 
 fry me to get it out." 
 
 14. Then this entry : 
 
 "The veiled Metropole Nemesis was to see the 
 
 sentry today She seemed to be quite happy 
 
 about something and looked up in the direction of my 
 
 window a number of times She was eating 
 
 some of those champagne-colored rose leaves that 
 are crystallized by the firm of Demitrof at Moscow 
 and sold as confections to the ladies of the Court! 
 .... What does it mean? .... Furthermore, if 
 that sentry is not the same man who acted as valet to 
 Prince Galitzyn at Monte Carlo when Delcasse, Grey 
 and Galitzyn (otherwise "Count Techlow") were 
 gliding about the Grand Hotel de Londres ! 
 
 "The mystery is solved 
 
 "That Metropole woman was the companion to 
 
 Countess C at the Nouvel Hotel Louvre the day 
 
 I met her at Monte Carlo ! . . . . and this man was 
 the same fellow she was supping her cafe Turc and 
 ■smoking her Medijeh cigarettes with out on the 
 Terrace Gardens of the Hotel de Londres the night I 
 was waiting for an American millionaire to break 
 away from the Hungarian noblewoman at the table 
 decorated with La France roses and the same kind 
 
 of roses pinned to her corsage The American, 
 
 if he ever sees this in print, will remember the lady 
 with the wonderful jewels flashing from her wrists and 
 neck and whom the man with the Boulanger mous- 
 
 41 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 tache at the adjoining table was trying hard to flirt 
 with .... the same dark-eyed Juno that same 
 American met in the Salle des Etrangers at the 
 
 Casino, the following day about noon Well, 
 
 that is the connection ! . . . . But I did not observe 
 that that wonderful lady wore any large SAPPHIRE 
 that night .... nor when she changed her quarters 
 from the Nouvel to the London did she need any such 
 jewelry to have all the spendthrifts of Europe at her 
 feet If she was a 'Princess' then I was com- 
 pletely fooled I never saw a real Princess, 
 
 except Eulalia, who knew how to be democratic 
 enough to select an American for a quiet exchange of 
 ideas .... the rest, no matter how desperately 
 they may want to be free from Court restraint 
 and bodyguards, remind me of the poor little caged 
 girls at the Convent of the Sacred Heart at Seville! 
 .... Well, so my captors have some connection 
 
 with the Countess C ([Cszecheny] Chechany) — 
 
 with the Tolna Festetics of Hungary And 
 
 this is strange, for I had surmised that SHE, 
 at least, would be friendly to MY mission, if 
 
 she knows anything at all about its origin 
 
 She should aid me to reach Odessa instead of having 
 me sandbagged and cooped up here in this Soviet 
 
 cage I'm certain this Metropole lady is a 
 
 TRAITOR to the Countess now, and will have me 
 murdered if I don't produce that sapphire of the 
 princess." 
 
 15. This entry may serve to identify the author 
 of the diary : 
 
 42 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 "I am certain that the former occupant of this 
 villa was some Russian of taste and means. Today, 
 while leaning against a wall that was paneled after 
 the fashion of the walls in the Hermitage, one of the 
 panels gave way and I found myself toppling back- 
 ward into a very large room resembling a gallery. 
 There were a number of wall hangings of silk from 
 which the pictures had been removed. The cande- 
 labra was of malachite. There were clumps of violet 
 jasper, porphyry, lapis-lazuli, aventurine and syenite 
 scattered around as though the place had been 
 divested of its furnishings in a hurry. I have seen 
 the same things in the HERMITAGE when for 
 architectural elegance, richness of ornamentation and 
 lavishness of decoration it was unequaled by any art 
 
 museum in the world While poking around 
 
 among the piles of tables and vases that were moved 
 over to one corner I came across a box of paintings 
 that must have been STOLEN from St. Petersburg.* 
 .... Here is the Madonna del Latte of Corregio, or 
 a mighty good imitation, that everyone remembers, 
 from the Hermitage. Here is Rembrandt's 'Girl 
 with the Broom,' the Portrait of Sobieski, and the 
 'Farmyard' of Paul Potter. Here is the 'Expulsion of 
 Hagar' by Rubens in which Sarah wears a white 
 handkerchief and yellow veil around her head, with 
 one of her hands resting on her hip and the other 
 encased in a blue sleeve raised in a threatening gesture 
 toward Hagar, and here is 'Celestine and her Daughter 
 
 ' Still the German nomenclature. 
 
 43 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 in Prison,' that one NEVER forgets because of the 
 controversy between the partisans of Murillo and 
 Velasquez over which of these two painters did 
 the work. And here is Lossenke's 'Sunrise on the 
 Black Sea,' Ugrimov's 'Capture of Kazan and 
 'Election of Michael Romanov,' in which the artist 
 reaches the heights of Oriental splendor in color, 
 composition and design There is a FOR- 
 TUNE going to the devil in this room! .... This 
 house is L-shaped. The garden in the rear faces a 
 pretentious two-story dwelling surrounded by a wall, 
 like a Governor General's mansion in its yellow- 
 pinkish coat. Tall poplar trees wave in front and the 
 classic columns running up to the entablature give 
 the place an official sort of front. There is a drug 
 store on the corner across the way doing business 
 under the name of Torkiani. To the right, at the 
 end of the street, is a girls' college; to the left, about 
 800 feet away, in the center of the street, is the 
 Alexander Nevsky Church, if I'm not very much mis- 
 taken. This city must have been a wonder before 
 the war. ... " Then this entry: "Something is 
 about to happen! .... My sentry seems very 
 excited over the desertion 'on Ekaterine Street' and 
 swears quite often at the failure of some one to 
 appear 'abng the Levashov.' " 
 
 16. This entry may explain the difficulty: 
 "There is an Army Corps approaching from the 
 southwest The air is surcharged with elec- 
 tricity and puts one's nerves on edge There 
 
 is an ominous roar overhead that grows more nerve- 
 
 44 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 racking every second Zip, zip, zip, bl-r-r-r-r- 
 
 oo-ow! .... A flock of Foelkers heading east like 
 wild ducks toward a few faint specks zigzagging in the 
 
 firmament away to the northeast Now there 
 
 are a number of specks from the south speedily joining 
 these and ALL seem to be flitting higher and higher 
 
 out of sight Now the Foelkers are circling 
 
 rapidly upward The tramp and rattle of an 
 
 Army can be heard coming up the road behind my 
 
 villa Ah! here comes a daring plane like a 
 
 streak of lightning over the Alex Nevsky Church 
 directly toward this prison! .... I'm between the 
 Devil and the Deep Sea! .... Whoever gets me, 
 that flyer or those noisy and unseen dogs of war back 
 yonder, means nothing but plain HELL to ME! 
 
 17. The next entry is interesting: 
 
 "Well, I'mnot DEAD yet! .... A trip through 
 the clouds is NOT the most delightful of experiences 
 
 for one in summer togs Especially when one 
 
 is gagged and blindfolded and roped down like a 
 
 rebellious steer So here I am cooped up 
 
 again in a log cabin in the center of an undulating 
 plain where there might have been unending wheat 
 
 fields once upon a time Not a solitary animal 
 
 is in sight The road out yonder looks much 
 
 the worse for wear. It seems ground into a pumice 
 stone by the hoofs of horses and the swift movement 
 of heavy wheels. Every gust of wind sends a cloud of 
 fine dust pyramiding its way across the fields and 
 through the crevices of this suffocating den furnished 
 with a few wooden chairs, a hand-carved bedstead, a 
 
 45 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 small picture of the "Virgin of the Partridges' and a 
 brass crucifix above the bed I greatly SUS- 
 PECT my present whereabouts I am as much 
 
 mystified as ever why that veiled Metropole Circe 
 
 continues to dog my FLIGHTS It was -she 
 
 who was the daring flyer and she beat the whole 
 army getting to my retreat in that neglected villa and 
 spiriting me away "" 
 
 46 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 VI 
 
 THE LADY AND THE FIRING SQUAD 
 
 18. This looks exciting : 
 
 "I must jot down this experience: When I was 
 taken from the log cabin I was blindfolded and again 
 strapped into a flying macine. There were half a 
 dozen soldiers present; and ONE was certainly an 
 ENGLISHMAN,— I had heard his voice before. I 
 NEVER forget a voice. If his eyes ever meet these 
 lines he will remember me, I know. I can describe 
 him from memory. He was medium height, wore a 
 drooping moustache slightly sprinkled with gray and 
 used two pairs of tortoise-shell glasses. When I met 
 him at The Pines in the Isle of Wight we had both 
 been through the Battle of the Somme and were 
 recuperating from our siege amid the shell holes and 
 the mud. I CLAIMED to be an American, and he, 
 as a descendant of the victor of Trafalgar, scolded me 
 roundly and vicariously for not forcing the United 
 States into the war on the side of Britain, — he'll 
 
 remember that Perhaps it was because he 
 
 DID recognize me that he insisted on my being blind- 
 folded and handled roughly when I was led away. 
 .... The rest of the squad spoke FRENCH very 
 
 poorly They asked me a number of questions, 
 
 to which I shook my head ; and, candidly, I could do 
 so without doing violence to my knowledge of 
 
 47 
 
KH^CUINU IHE CZAR 
 
 idiomatic French! .... I heard them say to one 
 another, 'When we get him to the stockade we'll see 
 what he is made of.' 'Yes; a firing squad' 11 be the 
 best thing for ALL of them.' 'Certainly ! we'll follow 
 Machiavelli's recommendation in The Prince, — 
 EXTERMINATE the whole race !' 'That's the idea ! 
 There should be no Louis XVIII bobbing up a gener- 
 ation from now to overthrow the democracy.' .... 
 
 To be honest with my conscience I felt creepy 
 
 I really wanted to tell them that they had got the 
 WRONG FELLOW, but when I tried to speak my 
 tongue felt sq dry and thick that I could not utter an 
 audible word .... so I remained involuntarily 
 silent Well, on this flight I was more comfor- 
 table than on the last; but I thought it would never 
 
 end and I felt horribly SEASICK Finally I 
 
 was landed and hustled into a court made from the 
 ends of small logs pegged into the ground like an 
 
 improvised palisade, — it was in a little village 
 
 ". . . . There were hundreds of tatterdemalians of 
 all nations in various uniforms and smoking vile 
 
 cigarettes, lounging carelessly around In a 
 
 little while a dozen prisoners issued from a small 
 guardhouse in one corner of the enclosure and were 
 conducted at the point of the bayonet to the spot 
 
 where I stood The officer of this firing squad 
 
 looked viciously at me and ordered me to 'fall in.' 
 .... We were then marched to the log wall about 
 fifty paces to the left of the guardhouse and com- 
 manded to 'about face.' .... When we did so we 
 saw a firing squad of eighteen men in command of a 
 
 48 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Sergeant who gave the order 'Prepare to fire!' .... 
 At this point the officer stepped forward and, 
 addressing me personally, said: 'Do you know of 
 any reason why you should not be shot for participa- 
 ting in the abduction of the Imperial family?' 
 
 .... This was a puzzler I was innocent 
 
 enough of such an accusation, BUT the officer before 
 me looked about as much like a Royalist as I in my 
 present disheveled condition looked like a member of 
 
 the French Cabinet If I denied my guilt I felt 
 
 certain of a bullet in my heart from such an ugly, 
 
 unkempt mob Glancing at my apparel I 
 
 looked fit to be one of their number, so I said cour- 
 ageously: 'I am PROUD to say that I am the 
 ringleader who engineered the whole business ! . . . . 
 If it gives you any satisfaction to see me die, 
 don't waste your breath asking me any further ques- 
 tions, — go ahead and fire!' .... 'Very well,' he 
 snapped and made me about-face to the firing squad. 
 .... For a few seconds he held a silent conversation 
 
 with the Sergeant That functionary 
 
 approached with a handkerchief. 'Will you be 
 blindfolded?' he asked. 'Thank you, I prefer to see 
 
 what's going on,' I answered The other 
 
 prisoners followed my example We were 
 
 ordered to step back against the wall The 
 
 squad raised their rifles at the command of 'aim.* 
 .... I now know that I felt positively nauseated at 
 
 the moment, but I actually SMILED 'Fire!' 
 
 . . . There was a rattle of musketry and every 
 prisoner beside me fell forward dead I 
 
 49 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 STOOD THERE ALONE, uninjured and alive 
 .... coming toward me down the path was the 
 daring female acrobatic aviator with her friend, the 
 performer of the Metropole, robed in a shimmering 
 sport outing costume, and smiling very sweetly to the 
 Officer of the Guard 
 
 ". . . . I am certain now that this veiled lady from 
 Buckingham is in league with this gang of Bolsheviki, 
 — and I am also certain that I owe my life to the 
 boast I made of being a murderer myself! . . . ." 
 
 19. The following entry reads: 
 
 "A man who has escaped death is not to be trusted 
 on a point of discretion, — he doesn't know how to 
 select his friends. He is like a spirit emerging from 
 nowhere in the eternal void and grabs at the first 
 apparition that promises companionship in his 
 
 embarrassing and momentary isolation Well, 
 
 I was so glad to see that Buckingham Clorinda that I 
 was willing to take her into my confidence at once. 
 .... She seemed so sympathetic! .... 'I com- 
 mend your bravery," she said prettily, offering me her 
 
 hand It was small and beautifully moulded, 
 
 yet firm and steady, and sent an electric thrill 
 
 through me like a flash Her eyes would 
 
 disarm the most suspicious diplomatic free-lance in 
 the world Struck with admiration, hypno- 
 tized by her voice, I could only blurt, 'I thank you.' 
 .... 'We are looking for a man of approved cour- 
 age,' she continued earnestly; 'we are more than 
 satisfied that YOU are the man.' .... Again I 
 muttered my thanks 'How long have you 
 
 50 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 been a member?" she then asked carelessly 
 
 THIS was not so easily answered I thought 
 
 quickly 'Long enough to KNOW my lesson !' 
 
 I answered oracularly 'You still remember 
 
 your instructions?' .... 'What instructions?' 
 She answered my question by asking, 'Were they not 
 BURNED?' .... Who is this encyclopaedic lady?' 
 I asked myself. 'What manner of TRAP is she setting 
 for me now?' .... 'Why did you SANDBAG me?' 
 was MY answer. . . . 'You are NOT to ask ques- 
 tions,' she returned. 'Are you not satisfied with 
 results?' .... 
 
 ". . . . 'I am still alive.' .... 'Well,' she 
 smiled, 'a live Bolshevik, of OUR kind, is much better 
 than a dead diplomat!' .... I was taken into an 
 improvised kitchen and indulged in a splendid meal. 
 .... I took no wine 
 
 ". . . . My meal being finished she offered me an 
 excellent cigarette. .... Glancing up through a 
 ring of smoke my eyes fell upon a rough black-and- 
 white sketch of a tall, smooth-faced, keen-eyed man 
 with rather large ears, firm and thin-cut lips, high 
 forehead and steadfast gaze, dressed in the uniform 
 of a General Officer, with a single decoration on his 
 
 left breast she observed me closely as I 
 
 gazed I KNEW this man and was about to 
 
 exclaim: 'The savior of this country!' .... but 
 
 something restrained my enthusiasm 'You 
 
 recognize him, I see,' she insinuated 'WHO 
 
 is he?' I dodged She merely smiled 
 
 She evidently realizes the wonderful power of that 
 
 51 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 disarming smile and the fascination of good teeth in a 
 
 shapely head 'You'll do!' she said with 
 
 apparent reservation as she tapped a tiny bell 
 
 ". . . . A short, thickset man appeared — he is not 
 positively ugly, but he has a way of staring at one that 
 
 is rather ill-bred There is a gold band around 
 
 his left wrist and a scar upon his right cheek 
 
 I am sure he is the SAME man I met at one of 
 Sadakichi-Hartmann's readings from Ibsen's Ghosts. 
 
 .... He may recall the time It was in an 
 
 abandoned palace on Russian Hill, somewhere in 
 America ; the lady at his left was discussing the diffi- 
 culties of getting her motor car into Ragiz; the 
 younger one on his right was known as Alma and gave 
 
 her address as East 61st Street, New York 
 
 and ALL THREE were quite convinced that the 
 
 Central Powers will defeat the Allies He is 
 
 an international character and will remember this 
 incident as well as the following: ' . . . . This 
 gentleman will join your party for Ekaterinburg 
 tonight, YOU understand. If there are any mistakes 
 I shall not answer for results !' There were NO intro- 
 ductions The man bowed and began to back 
 
 away 'YOU may accompany him,' she said, 
 
 rising and flitting from the room I believe I 
 
 understand what this party means! .... There is 
 to be a SHOOTING party at Ekaterinburg under the 
 auspices of the Bolshevists in a day or two and I may 
 be ONE of the 'mistakes' for which that mystifying 
 
 lady disclaims responsibility My companion 
 
 certainly looks like a bandit, and manifests the 
 
 52 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 strength of a wild bull He seems much 
 
 interested in that patch on my shirt sleeve " 
 
 53 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 VII 
 
 THE ROYAL BOLSHEVIK AND THE NURSE 
 
 20. "My Charybdis conducted me to the barracks 
 where a lot of undisciplined philosophers were dis- 
 cussing the parceling out of land The ring- 
 leader was a round-headed, long-nosed and bulky 
 individual with a shaggy beard and dirty uniform. 
 .... I knew him in an instant, but he did not 
 recognize me .... he was one of Von der Goltz' 
 
 men who aided in the defense at Gallipoli 
 
 The night before the Allied fleet withdrew he was 
 lying beside a short, thickset and dark-haired 
 Associated Press reporter with a German name and 
 tortoise-shell eyeglass and was telling that same 
 reporter that unless REINFORCEMENTS arrived 
 AT ONCE the defenses would collapse! .... The 
 next day he was at Headquarters informing the 
 General in command that BUT FOR HIM the 
 
 Turkish forces would have surrendered! 
 
 He is NOW wearing a number of decorations for his 
 military skill and bravery Such are the for- 
 tunes of war ! . . . . This is the man who one minute 
 preaches communism and another minute gravely as- 
 serts that it will be a good thing for the Kaiser to get 
 killed in thewar so as to guarantee the SUCCESSION 
 of the Empire Perhaps he is doing this for my 
 
 54 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 benefit Anyway he occupies the center of the 
 
 stage at present and GOVERNS this greedy and 
 unruly mob by kicking discipline into a cocked hat 
 and allowing every unshaved Bolshevik his own 
 unrestricted way ! . . . . Under other circumstances 
 I should dearly like to meet this boasting Furioso in 
 a ten-foot ring when a little exercise is needed to keep 
 
 myself in trim But NOW I am accepted as a 
 
 BOLSHEVIK, — one of the elect, privileged to select 
 my lady and rob and pillage when I please! .... 
 This suits me very well .... but on mature re- 
 flection it seems to me that a FEW in this literally 
 UNGODLY gang are playing a very cunning part. 
 .... If that BE so I am not so sure how far my 
 own assumed conversion to the doctrine of rapine 
 
 will rpotect my skin So far, however, I have 
 
 adopted the policy of vindictiveness, and, when 
 asked a question, I merely growl and swear like a 
 
 trooper / am making an impression " 
 
 21. "On the way here the HERO of Gallipoli took 
 quite a fancy to me, because I could beat him swear- 
 ing perhaps Growing confidential over his 
 
 liquor and Turkish cigarettes he asked point-blank: 
 'Didn't I see you at the TWELFTH DAY CERE- 
 MONY at the Winter Palace the time the Archbishop 
 lost the golden cross in the river, a few years ago?' 
 .... I thought it better to deny the acquaintance 
 
 and the incident I could have easily recalled 
 
 the ceremony on the Neva, the decorated pavilion 
 on the ice in front of the palace, the procession of 
 church dignitaries in their stiff Byzantine robes and 
 
 55 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 scintillating mitres moving slowly across the road 
 followed by the Grand Dukes and the Emperor, the 
 clear voices of the choir cutting through the frosty 
 air, the ladies of the Court standing near the window 
 and crossing themselves as the Czar stood motionless 
 beneath the gilded and fretted canopy, — / could have 
 recalled it all. . . . but I swore profanely and de- 
 clared emphatically that ALL RELIGION WAS A 
 COBWEB AND A SNARE to emancipated minds. 
 .... I pretended to get violently MAD about it and 
 told him I would strangle any man who insulted meby 
 accusing me of the most distant relationship with any 
 
 religion excepting the religion of FREE LOVE 
 
 He laughed like a lion with a sliver in its paw. 'You 
 are absolutely the best COUNTERFEIT in circulation 
 that I know of!' he guffawed. 'Well, I'm going to fire 
 Syvorotka and put you in charge of a little FIRING 
 SQUAD when we get to our camping ground at 
 Ekaterinburg !' were his exact words, half whispered, 
 half insinuated and wholly growled across the table 
 
 in the diner With assumed hostility I 
 
 actually barked : 'The dirtier the deviltry the more 
 diverting !'.... He opened his eyes widely like one 
 emerging from a solemn drunk and WINKED know- 
 ingly as he shook my hand 'You know where 
 
 Kerensky got his orders to release our fellows, of 
 course,' he whispered. 'I guess you KNOW why he 
 sent some people to Ekaterinburg a couple of days 
 before the Czecho-Slovaks are scheduled to take it, 
 and I guess you know too how it happened that so 
 many MOTOR TRUCKS came all the way from 
 
 56 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Archangel to Ekaterinburg so as to be on hand when 
 a certain Indian officer shows up,' the ridiculous 
 ranter raved But .... 
 
 ". . . . If these lines should ever come to light I 
 want to record right now, injustice to that apparently- 
 besotted creature, that I am under unutterable obli- 
 gations to him for assigning to me the most diabolical 
 piece of brutality that has been conceived during this 
 period of moral leprosy and unrepenting malevolence. 
 . . . . I shall do my work well. 
 
 22. Then the following odds and ends appear: 
 ". . . . The Metropole performer is a Baroness sure 
 
 enough She knows a Syvorotka but declines 
 
 to give his rank or whereabouts She tells me 
 
 that this place was founded by Count Tatischshev in 
 
 1721 ... . when Catherine was a baby 
 
 The Monastery of 'Our Lady of Tikhvin' looming up 
 before me is a very graceful compliment to the 
 Mosque of St. Sophia it resembles in so many ways 
 .... fine place to radio from to friends at Odessa 
 .... especially if the NUN has been obeying 
 
 orders Lvov is out of the way, over in the 
 
 city prison, cooking, where he can't betray the 
 
 prisoners at Ipatiev's When I was alone with 
 
 my Imperial prisoner I tore the patch off from my 
 
 shirt sleeve and handed it to him 'iSa lettre!' 
 
 he exclaimed in an undertone His manner 
 
 was exceedingly polite 'Ouvrez, lisez,' I ad- 
 vised 'Oui, oui.je sais! jesais!' he said softly, 
 
 'mais malheureusement cela est impossible!' .... 
 'Soak it in water', I replied 'Et vous, monsieur. 
 
 57 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 etes-vous americainoufrancais?' he camehack 
 
 'Je suis ne a Paris, mais je suis americain, and if the 
 prisoner has no objection I'd rather speak, in English.' 
 .... 'That will be delightful,' he said; 'I shall do as 
 you say.' .... He ran back to the bathroom. In a 
 moment he returned holding the patch up before him. 
 .... 'Ah!' he continued aloud, "this merely says 
 that the Heir Apparent will make a cruise of the 
 world in a man-of-war; what does that signify?' 
 .... 'If you recognize the writing,' I replied, 'you 
 will, doubtless, remember the methods of its author 
 when extending an invitation.' .... 'Yes, yes, I 
 see; how clever of you! Had you been a subject of 
 mine I should have made you an ambassador !'.... 
 'That would imply infinite wisdom on my part. Sire!' 
 
 I bowed very humbly It made a hit with my 
 
 prisoner." 
 
 This entry follows : 
 
 "Alice will give up her wheel chair when the NUN 
 gives the word .... she is worrying about my 
 prisoner's sister, Olga, and her two companions, who 
 insist on offering their services to the poor in the 
 Crimea .... and well she may ! . . . . 'Facing the 
 East,' they are likely to travel south! .... I must 
 get rid of this old valet, Parafine Domino, who makes 
 a nuisance of himself hovering around my prisoner 
 
 like a hawk Gallipoli says he'll get rid of 
 
 Alice's physician before the TENTS arrive, — ^sub- 
 stituting a fake doctor from the Red Guard, who'll 
 
 tell me when the prisoners are fit to travel 
 
 As 'Captain' of this Soviet Guard I am as cold- 
 
 58 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 blooded as Gallipoli before the spies and hangers-on. 
 .... 'Captain?' .... that title seems to stump 
 the old Russian soldiers, — they claim that there is no 
 
 such animal The Sergeant has suggested that 
 
 I put the prisoners under a SMALL GUARD when 
 we take them to the Ural District Soviet Qjurt of 
 
 Workmen Nice trap to catch me If I 
 
 agreed to this I'd be in the same category as Denikin 
 or Dutov or Ekhart and be shot by the gang outside 
 by mistake, so as to fulfill the prophecy of my lady of 
 
 Buckingham My answer was to order the 
 
 guard on the balcony to keep their guns pointed at 
 the prisoners whenever they appear in the garden 
 .... this will satisfy the eavesdropper in the red 
 brick across the way and scare the wits out of old 
 Parafine, besides giving him something to talk about 
 
 when we get away To satisfy that suspicious 
 
 Sergeant that there is no Japanese money secreted by 
 the prisoners I have ordered my men to use their 
 bayonets against the walls and ceilings .... even 
 the frame of the bathroom is not to escape! . . . 
 Gallipoli is growling around that I'm doing my work 
 too damned well to seem reasonable! .... The 
 poor boob! His idea of being reasonable seems to 
 consist in spreading rumors that the prisoners 
 have been disposed of in a dozen different ways. 
 .... When Maria and Tatiana mounted the truck 
 in the yard this confiding swaggerer started the gossip 
 that they were being loaded up to be taken out of 
 
 town and shot Now I am told by some of the 
 
 excited guard that that report is TRUE because they 
 
 59 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 heard some one in the attic of the red brick yelling: 
 'The baggage is at the station!^ .... 
 
 "When I asked them what we wanted with 'BAG- 
 GAGE' they went away growling that I wasn't 
 playing fair! .... To my somber-robed lady of 
 Buckingham, who seems to have deserted me, as well 
 as the slender guard at the Huis ten Bosch, as well as 
 those at the Wilhelmstrasse and Odessa, who are part 
 of this 'BAGGAGE,' my guard's agitation will 
 assume the humorous character of unconscious 
 
 prophecy Suspicion is in the air! 
 
 This undisciplined gang of cutthroats under that half- 
 baked Sergeant are demanding HOSTAGES from 
 me for my conduct of this business .... they 
 want 'the Grand Dutchess Olga,' her two companions, 
 and FIFTY other women! .... AT LAST! .... 
 
 the 'planes are buzzing in the sky The Ikon of 
 
 Holy Nicholas is being wrapped up The 
 
 NUN has copies of the letters to Oldenburg and 
 
 Gendrikov It's time to say to my prisoner: 
 
 'Come with ME to the U. D. S. of W. A. R. A. D.' 
 .... If he has the code from Odessa he will ask: 
 'Are you taking me to be shot?' .... 'RUNMOBS' 
 .... I'll have the guard go through his pockets to 
 find the letters that'll turn him over to my 'vengeance' 
 .... then for Ekhart's tunnel and OBLIVION! 
 
 23. Then this entry follows. It seems to be suffi- 
 ciently circumstantial to justify its reproduction here: 
 
 "Murder, like jealousy, in this country is a disease," 
 begins the narrative. "My part in this international 
 murder will paralyze the politician and mystify the 
 
 60 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 sober mind of intelligent belief History will 
 
 not be satisfied, however, without a VICTIM, and 
 I must furnish a victim that will satisfy the mob 
 
 outside! .... The Order has been given 
 
 There are celebrations among the banditti .... 
 there are moistened eyes among many peasants; 
 there are strong men and gallant men among the 
 gang out yonder whose very looks betray the 
 HATRED they entertain for the suspected execu- 
 tioner of their former ruler and his excited family. 
 .... They fear, they try to avoid me; and I can 
 see in their looks that, given a favorable opportunity, 
 they will hang me to the highest electric wire pole in 
 the city! .... 
 
 "I am not so certain, though, that EVERYONE 
 outside will accept my theatric 'slaughter' as the 
 Gospel truth. 
 
 "Diagonally across the way there has been a Red 
 Cross nurse eternally peeking through her window 
 in this direction If we go out into the court- 
 yard she can see us plainly behind the other buildings, 
 for there is nothing to obstruct her vision .... and 
 she seems mighty anxious to keep tab on all pro- 
 ceedings in the yard I have tried to figure out 
 
 a resemblance between this nurse and the capricious 
 Metropole Baroness, but the nurse seems much older. 
 
 .... Perhaps she is disguised If she ever 
 
 reveals her identity she will remember me as the man 
 who tipped my cap to her after posting the two 
 sentries in front of the palisade between the telephone 
 poles and the British Consulate Ifsheremem- 
 
 61 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 bers me she will also recall the drillings I gave my 
 awkward squad for the few days I kept them parading 
 after my prisoners in the yard .... and if anything 
 happens to me she will KNOW that I did my job 
 
 well up to the minute I write this In a few 
 
 hours more the future political history of the world 
 
 may be changed forever To blot out seven 
 
 lives is all Dokonchet the Romanoffs!" 
 
 23 . This entry follows : 
 
 "To satisfy the mob I had to perform a very un- 
 pleasant duty I use the word duty advis- 
 edly, remembering the instructions I committed to 
 memory in the underground office of the Wilhelm- 
 
 strasse Knowing that I am continually 
 
 WATCHED and spied upon, not only by that nurse 
 in the window over there, but by a number of crazed 
 lunatics in uniform, I was compelled to treat a very 
 
 pretty Princess shamefully News was spread 
 
 yesterday that Japan had loaned Siberia $250,000,000, 
 and the mob was clamoring for the jewels of the 
 prisoners. This unoffending Princess — this girl, 
 hardly more than seventeen — was holding a conver- 
 sation in French with her brother Alexis, a little lad 
 of fourteen, in the courtyard. The boy was pale and 
 emaciated from abuse, solitude and confinement. 
 The Princess, a radiant beauty under this hot July 
 sun, was trying to cheer Alexis up. Her gown was 
 badly soiled and of a simple soft material that seemed 
 to accentuate her modest resignation and glorify her 
 courageous cheerfulness in gloom. Her three older 
 sisters, in gowns that spoke of yesterdays, were 
 
 62 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 walking moodily down the path, when a crowd of 
 ruffians burst by the sentries, tore through the doors, 
 and dashed into the yard in the direction of the 
 
 startled girls Taking in the situation quickly, 
 
 I raised my voice and began swearing like a demon, 
 
 and prancing around like a skberny madman 
 
 Then rushing up to Tatiana I TORE FROM HER 
 EARS the jewels that had descended from her early 
 ancestors and howled: 'Aha! you'll wear those cursed 
 things, will you, when your betters are starving in 
 the gutters! Get back, all of you, into your Ipatiev 
 SEPULCHRE and get me ALL the jewelry in the 
 place or /'// turn these men loose upon you in three 
 quarters of an hour! .... Soldiers, — attention!!' 
 
 .... The mob crawled into line 'The next 
 
 time any of you men come into this yard without 
 any orders," I said, 'I'll have you SHOT WITH 
 THESE PEOPLE IN THE MANSION! .... 
 Column right ! . . . . March !'.... I heard them 
 mumbling as they passed the first sentry that the 
 cursed interloping tovarestch intended to keep all the 
 loot!' .... Following Alexis and his sisters into the 
 ex-Emperor's study I laid down the earrings upon the 
 flat-topped desk and apologized for my apparent act 
 
 of cowardice and cruelty 
 
 There was pathos in that father's soft and courteous 
 voice as he looked at me and said: 'I understand, — 
 yes, yes, I know. You are right-^quite right. My 
 darlings, you must not blame this man.' " 
 
 63 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 VIII 
 
 WHEN ROYALTY FACES DEATH 
 
 24. This entry follows : 
 
 "I must jot this down now — who knows what may 
 happen? .... Reminding the family that I had 
 promised results in three quarters of an hour, I 
 instructed them in the part each one must take. 
 .... Alexis appeared to be listlessly unconcerned 
 and sat upon one corner of the large flat-topped desk, 
 swinging his feet indifferently ; but when I started for 
 the door he sprang to attention like a well-trained 
 
 soldier and awaited the results Going to the 
 
 door fronting in the main street, I called the sentry 
 and ordered him to CALL OUT THE GUARD. 
 .... Shortly my selected guard appeared 
 
 I conducted them through the dining room 
 
 and told them to help themselves Then we 
 
 roamed through the living rooms, the boudoirs, 
 straight through to the washing room and bath ; then 
 back through the oblong archway into the little 
 square room beyond the study, where I halted them 
 and said: 'Men, these women will die before they'll 
 tell us where the treasure is at present. The OLD 
 MAN and WOMAN seem utterly indifferent to their 
 fate; we can get nothing out of them. Now, what 
 do you say to giving them a night to think the 
 matter over before we line them up? We may 
 
 64 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 get more by waiting than by closing their mouths 
 FOREVER • 
 
 'Not another day!' said one of the men whom I had 
 all along suspected of being suspicious of MY 
 
 conduct "What say the rest of you ?' I asked. 
 
 .... "Well," droned the most courageous of them, 
 with a hangdog expression, 'we might give them until 
 midnight.' .... 'Very well,' I snapped viciously, 
 'I'LL PUT OFF THE EXECUTION till that hour; 
 then if they don't disgorge I'll kill every one of them 
 myself!' .... 'Not so fast, comrade!' returned 
 the rebellious one; as a member of the guard I 
 believe I'll keep you company.' 
 
 ". . . . I knew better than to object That 
 
 man is a cutthroat beyond redemption and will hesi- 
 tate at nothing to satisfy his lust 'That'll 
 
 he fine,' I rejoined; 'YOU STAY WITH ME; the 
 rest of the men are dismissed!' .... when the 
 men disappeared I made a run and jump at my 
 diabolical 'comrade' and struck him squarely on 
 the nose. Then I smashed him on the mouth, 
 and, with a down drive of my left, I bored into 
 the pit of his stomach and sent him sprawling 
 on the carpet, where he BLED as profusely as a corn- 
 fed bull This blood was exactly what I 
 
 wanted, and in my anxiety to make a good job of it 
 I kicked him several times in the face until he lay 
 there, motionless and senseless, bleeding from every 
 
 gash In the joy of giving this remorseless 
 
 bully what he needed to overcome his pride I OVER- 
 LOOKED ENTIRELY THE PROPRIETY OF 
 
 65 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 MAKING HIM BLEED IN ALL THE OTHER 
 
 ROOMS This little oversight may cost me a 
 
 well-earned reputation for efficient management I 
 have hitherto enjoyed among many great men of our 
 times, if the omission be detected by some enterpris- 
 ing commission, some journalist or SERVICE man 
 who will certainly check up my report if I leave 
 this place alive " 
 
 25. This entry follows: 
 
 "It was a long wait till midnight when the mob out- 
 side expected to be invited to a division of the spoils 
 .... but my plans were taking shape gradually as 
 
 the moments slipped away In this isolated, 
 
 though nicely furnished and elegant two-story dwell- 
 ing, I got closer to the heart of my celebrated prisoner 
 
 and his family than any other man alive In 
 
 the few hours left to us before the time set for their 
 'execution' — in these evening shadows of July, 1918, 
 — we have been discussing the effect of THEIR 
 
 SACRIFICE upon the history of the world I 
 
 put this down from memory : 
 
 " 'It is understood already in certain chancellories,' 
 my prisoner significantly replied, 'how my execution 
 
 will be publicly accounted for Each Ministry 
 
 will appoint a Commission, suggested by the Crown, 
 
 to investigate and publish its own report The 
 
 report published will be given out under the name of 
 a Naval or Military Commission to impart an official 
 sanction to the supposed inquiry and support the 
 
 authenticity of the document agreed upon 
 
 Naturally these prearranged reports will vary so as to 
 
 66 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 satisfy the state of mind in each particular country.' 
 . . . . 'If regicides are so easily arranged,' I observed 
 cautiously, 'perhaps the duration of this "Revolu- 
 tion" is also definitely determined?' .... 'There'll 
 be a period of revolution and distress,' my prisoner 
 remarked, 'before our country settles down to 
 industry and contentment. But the desire of "self- 
 determination " will mislead the unfortunate and 
 cause them to embrace a tyranny of the most cruel 
 and selfish type. This will last for a time until glut- 
 tony destroys itself, as all excesses do. When the 
 country is dismembered by the activities of rival 
 greeds, my poor and honest peasants will turn upon 
 their masters and restore this nation's power. They 
 need but education to accomplish glorious results. 
 They will obtain this education while they suffer and 
 evolve a science of self-government while learning to 
 govern themselves. It may seem strange to others 
 when I say so; but not one of my whole family is 
 covetous of the Imperial Crown. We prefer peace 
 and liberty to all the pomp and penalties of Royal 
 isolation from the rest of men and women in the 
 world. Royalty means SLAVERY of the most 
 humiliating form. The boy or girl that is doomed 
 to Royal birth steps into a prison with the first 
 
 breath he breathes Take my own case; 
 
 I longed to get out and play rough-and-tumble with 
 the boys I saw staring at me in the streets. But I was 
 taught by my English tutor. Heath, that it would be 
 lowering my dignity to associate with those fine 
 young boys. My "dignity" was placed in a strait- 
 
 67 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 jacket and, in a namby-pamby way, I was taught to 
 play ALONE. I had cousins scattered over Europe 
 who took their lot more happily than I; but even 
 they regretted the mocking barriers that laid 
 down a barrage between us and the more fortunate 
 chaps outside, — outside, they enjoyed FREEDOM, — 
 within, we were ALL prisoners in our little cells of 
 etiquette and traditionary bondage. At fifteen I 
 was dragged away to the Military Academy at Petro- 
 grad* and made to listen to old Danilovich until I 
 actually hated the very name of war. I resolved at 
 that time to inaugurate some means to get rid of such 
 senseless waste of life if intrusted with the power. 
 The Hague was my interpretation of what should 
 constitute a proper exercise of international obliga- 
 tion. You realize, of course, the precarious state of 
 Russia in a military sense, — while force was indispen- 
 sable to hold us all together from within, it always 
 exposed our weakness when directed toward external 
 issues. I could not map out my own general education, 
 even; forced by the traditions of my family I was 
 placed in charge of the Holy Synod and taught by 
 Pobedonostzev to regard myself as the source of 
 SPIRITUAL POWER and instructed to regard an 
 unorthodox opinion as a transportation offense. 
 Now, while I reverence profoundly the sacred tenets 
 of my holy religion, I regard religious freedom as 
 indispensable to the dignity of spiritual belief. For 
 that reason I made that reformation in 1905. As I 
 
 *Nicholas used "Petrograd," not the German nomenclature. 
 
 68 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 grewup I rebelled against myintolerable confinement, 
 — I went out among the PEOPLE and TALKED 
 WITH THEM. They were friendly in most in- 
 stances and gave me very good advice. I did not 
 need a bodyguard to go about. I was as safe among 
 the people as I would be in the Winter Palace. Often 
 have I walked to the hotels alone to call on some 
 particular friend without any thought of fear. Nor 
 was it necessary, — I liked the people as genuinely as 
 I believe they respected me. I learned their hunger 
 for land by going around ; and it was on that account 
 that I projected and completed our Siberian Rail- 
 ways so as to give our people the coveted opportunity 
 and an outlet to the markets of the world. Given an 
 opportunity to accumulate and prosper, men will 
 hesitate about going to war unless THEY ARE 
 MISLED. I saw such an opportunity in inter- 
 national trade. I visited the Orient, extensively 
 investigating the commercial field in that direction. 
 It was a mighty task, necessitating a reference 
 to others who should have been as much interested 
 in the accomplishment as I was myself. Their mis- 
 takes have made me quite unhappy and there has 
 always been CONTENTION between my Ministers 
 and myself. If Witte had kept his hands off when 
 Count Solsky got after the plotting school teachers 
 and rebellious students, the propaganda against my 
 reign which has honeycombed the Empire with 
 sedition might have been checked in time to prevent 
 this dissolution, — for it is more than a "revolution." 
 It is idealism run amuck. France, England, the 
 
 69 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 people of America, have been duped by the intelli- 
 gentia — the Kadets — who never seemed to realize that 
 in order to hold this Empire together not only 
 FORCE but SUPERSTITION was required— '^i 
 mundus vult decipi decipiatur,' it is the only principle 
 that will hold unorganized ignorance in disciplinary 
 subjection to orderly and regulated progress; and 
 without this discipline the ARMY, or the power that 
 holds this incongruous Nation together, will dissolve, 
 as you may now see, while the whole Empire will fly 
 to pieces. My strong Ministers were too physical 
 and myopic to look beyond their noses. They were 
 afraid to seem afraid of truth, — and they even accused 
 me of plotting with Kazantsev and Feodorov against 
 the life of my Minister of Finance, — always excuses 
 for fomenting discontent! They never seemed to 
 realize that the HAPPINESS of the PEOPLE meant 
 the SECURITY of the CROWN. As a matter of fact 
 the only loyal supporters I ever had around me 
 were my wife and family besides a few others in 
 the service of the State. When I announced my 
 war aims on the Pacific for the benefit of my people 
 my leading Minister had the audacity to obtrude 
 upon my privacy at Tsarskoye Selo and demand 
 that I withdraw the manifesto. This piece of 
 impudence cost me the decision in that war. That 
 magniloquent Minister, with his versatile Irish 
 amanuensis, not only turned my mother against me, 
 but he had the temerity to demand that I dismiss 
 my best agent, Azeff, who alone kept me advised of 
 the machinations of the Social Revolutionists, who, 
 
 70 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 in turn, accused me of murdering my uncle Sergius — ^ 
 the greatest theologian of the age. As I recall the 
 time, now, I am, of course, convinced that the only 
 real friend I had among those Social Revolutionists 
 was BURTZEV, — but I understood him too late!' 
 .... My prisoner spoke regretfully. His voice was 
 soft and courteous, breaking at times into the alti- 
 sonance of the tragic muse. He does not think that 
 any act of his can be wrong ; the mere fact that HE 
 ran counter to accepted standards divests, in his 
 mind, the act itself of turpitude. That seems to be 
 the way he looked upon his former Eastern encrouch- 
 ments. That's the way he justified his subterranean 
 deals with the KAISER; and he even goes so far as to 
 assert that 'if the Vyborg-Bjorkesund treaty had not 
 been denounced the present war would not have hap- 
 pened.' He speaks of this a little passionately, 
 scorning the very memory of Count Witte for 
 'questioning the morality of that arrangement.' That 
 great Minister my prisoner refers to as 'an uncouth 
 bully who bellowed like a mad bull.' In this respect it is 
 my impression that the ex-Empress indorses his state 
 of mind. What he likes she will place in the superla- 
 tive; what he merely hates, she elevates to positive 
 abhorrence. In this way she seems to flatter his 
 decisions, which makes him smile quite indulgently 
 at her, and hold her ascendency over his apparently 
 veering mind. I can notice this in so many little 
 things: She oozes delicate flattery and he likes it; 
 she plays upon his prejudices, and he seems to have a 
 lot of them submerged beneath his inalienable urban- 
 
 71 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 ity and instinctive grace of manner that even this 
 misery and abysmal gloom have not relieved of 
 polish. Beneath it all I get the impression that he is 
 very much in love with every member of his family 
 .... that he would like to be alone with 'Alice,' 
 whom he addresses as 'my darling' and experiences 
 a shell-shock if she stubs her toe. His final words are : 
 'Now it is ALL OVER and I WILL WELCOME 
 THE OBLIVION that will release us all from the 
 memory of our devoted bondage !'.... While my 
 prisoner conversed Alexis assisted his stately mother 
 and his four beautiful sisters while putting on their 
 
 superannuated wraps One by one they filed 
 
 out the door leading into the open yard My 
 
 prisoner stood up and stretched himself He 
 
 was about to resume his seat when the report of a 
 
 revolver resounded in our ears The brute on 
 
 the floor, wallowing in his blood, was raised upon his 
 
 elbows and firing recklessly After he had 
 
 fired six rounds without apparent injury I drew my 
 own revolver and fired deliberately INTO THE 
 
 WALL The fellow slunk back to silence. 
 
 .... My prisoner and I followed the ladies out into 
 the night, forgetting a jewel or two in our leisurely 
 departure Out in the open WE DES- 
 CENDED into the old abandoned tunnel that 
 formerly led from Ipatievs to the medical office of a 
 foreign consulate a thousand feet away " 
 
 72 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 IX 
 
 WHAT IS LEARNED IN A SECRET TUNNEL 
 
 26. The next entry is mystifying : 
 
 "We are between the devil and the deep sea ! . . . . 
 
 which gives me time to write The beastly 
 
 tunnel has caved in midway in our passage 
 
 It seems, from the roar overhead, that we are some- 
 where beneath the railroad tracks. Yet there must be 
 a vent somewhere, as there seems to be a draft of air 
 through this passage The family are congre- 
 gated off to the right, in a kind of stoping where the 
 dirt has been removed, leaving a small room like one 
 meets with in the Gogebic iron mines in Wisconsin 
 
 and Michigan, back in the United States Our 
 
 little electric bull's-eyes come in handy just now. 
 .... With my bull's-eye propped up on a sand- 
 encrusted box I am noting down some things that 
 
 must not be forgotten While trying to find a 
 
 passageway out of this hole in the ground we gyrated 
 back and forth for the last two or three hours until 
 
 the women became exhausted Then my 
 
 'prisoner' and I returned to the mouth of the entrance. 
 There we heard a horrible row between the unruly 
 brute we left on the floor and his wild-eyed fellow con- 
 spirators They accused him of DOUBLE- 
 CROSSING THEM and making away with the 
 
 73 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 treasure that they insisted should be theirs! 
 
 . . . He insisted that there was NO treasure 
 EXCEPT the JEWEL he apparently was exhibiting. 
 .... We could hear, quite distinctly, a sullen voice 
 saying: 'I do not believe you; you are trying to 
 steal the whole of it ! . . . We'll give you ten min- 
 utes to produce ALL you have hid away, and if you 
 don't do it, we'll fill your body so full of lead that 
 your rotten carcass won't float in the Kolunda.'. . . . 
 The culprit replied : 'Let me explain. You remember 
 that I was suspecting that interloper when I insisted 
 on watching him; well, my suspicions were correct, — 
 he was a TRAITOR to our cause. He was planning 
 to steal away with his precious gang when I covered 
 them with my pistol. Then when I had the drop on 
 them I made them open all of their trunks and boxes. 
 Nothing was found. I felt sure they were holding out 
 on me, so I took a shot at the kid. The interloper 
 made a dive at me. I knocked him down with that 
 chair there . . then in my rage I emptied my 
 pistol into the hearts of the whole gang .... that's 
 all there's to it.' .... 'He's lying!' Traitor!' 
 'Betrayer!' 'Down with the thief!' flew back and forth 
 
 from one to another above our heads Then 
 
 in a more subdued voice we heard "Hist! Silence! Some 
 one is coming!' A moment later I heard distinctly 
 the unmistakable growl of my hero of Gallipoli over- 
 head demanding, 'WHAT HAVE YOU CUT- 
 THROATS DONE WITH OUR PRISONERS?' 
 
 There was a silence that could be felt 
 
 None offered an explanation that I could hear 
 
 74 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 "Why don't you answer?' thundered Gallipoli 
 
 There was an unmistakable murmur 'Don't 
 
 YOU try to slide out of this, you COWARD! I'll 
 hold every one of you responsible for this! Where's 
 my lieutenant?' . . . He means ME .... 
 
 'Out in the yard,' I heard one of them reply 
 
 'Go and tell him to report here AT ONCE!' .... 
 Poor devil ! the humor of this whole situation is dis- 
 played in the tragic possibilities of criminal greed 
 when crooks fall out! .... 'Where are the others?' 
 
 my Gallipoli hero demanded I heard no 
 
 answer 'DO YOU HEAR ME?' ... . still 
 
 no audible answer 'Crack!' .... the report 
 
 of a revolver, then a scuffling and 'stand back! 
 Another move and I'll blow you ALL to HELL, — 
 line up there! . Now I order you to explain 
 the whereabouts of the PRISONERS.' 
 
 .... We could hear a voice boasting: 'Did- you 
 see that BLOOD in yonder? Well, that is our an- 
 swer. We were suspicious of that Lieutenant of yours 
 so we took the matter into our own hands.' . . . 
 "WHO DID THE KILLING?' . . 'The Ser- 
 geant.' . . . 'And what did he DO with the bodies?" 
 .... 'Threw them into the well !'.... 'The devil ! 
 you'll have to fish them out again!' . . . Then 
 there was a long silence. . . . Finally we heard: 
 'Here, Sergeant!' from HE of Gallipoli; "when will 
 my lieutenant report?' .... 'The Captain said 
 to present his compliments and say that he is tem- 
 porarily detained.' . . My 'prisoner' poked me 
 in the ribs impulsively and smiled. . . . 'Where 
 
 75 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 are the BODIES?' .... 'Burned!' said the Ser- 
 geant. 'WHAT?' .... 'BURNED UP? ... . 
 'Who burned them?' .... 'I did, Sin' .... 
 'Didn't throw them in the well?' .... 'No, Sir.' 
 .... 'Well, I'll be damned! .... FALL IN! 
 Unless those prisoners are produced I'll court-martial 
 every one of you!' 
 
 ". . . . We could hear the measured tread of a 
 squad overhead tramping away until the thump, 
 thump, thumping sank into a faint indistinct vibra- 
 tion which was caught up by the beating of our hearts 
 and the throbbing of our fascinated and incredulous 
 
 ears 'Well!' ejaculated my amused 'prisoner'; 
 
 'It'll be exceedingly interesting to read the future 
 accounts of my double execution. I am sure my 
 family will read it with greater interest than they've 
 ever manifested in any of London's or Gorky's 
 fanciful novels !' .... 'I assume that you will not be 
 surprised to learn that you have some mighty good 
 
 friends in that crowd outside,' I ventured 
 
 'Oh, not at all,' my prisoner returned, 'and I venture 
 to say that your friend from Gallipoli will find it con- 
 venient to contribute to the general misunderstanding 
 and confusion by allowing the suspected executioners 
 to air their conflicting explanations of my disap- 
 pearance.' 
 
 " 'We haven't disappeared yet, my friend!' I grum- 
 bled, as we turned back in the direction of our 
 
 underground camp 'If we had some shovels 
 
 it would solve the problem; but the way we're 
 fixed it looks like a case of starvation or surrender 
 
 76 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 for the whole of us, — we can't stay down here 
 indefinitely!' .... 'Patience, courage, my friend,' 
 my 'prisoner' replied whole-heartedly; 'this is the 
 first time in my life I have been absolutely alone, 
 the first moment in our lives we have been posi- 
 tively FREE !'.... He took a few swift steps and 
 swung around gracefully, like a figure in a dance. 
 .... 'I love the mazurka!' he exclaimed! .... 
 'I'd like to have a real pillow fight again with the 
 children! .... We used to have such fun! .... 
 It was about the only time my wife would ever 
 smile ! .... I used to tell her that she reminded me 
 of the sad goddesses that stood on the dull red cornices 
 of my Winter Palace looking coldly into space during 
 
 any of the Court ceremonies Really that was 
 
 true, — a woman like my- wife, in a manteau de cour, 
 a head flaming with the rays of her kokoshnik and 
 supported by that long white veil, DOES resemble 
 an icicle in the Winter Palace ! . . . . But when we 
 are alone! .... the Zaritsa is a motherly 
 MOTHER! .... You'll see We have al- 
 ways loved simplicity This is our chance. 
 
 .... I never did like the late suppers and high life 
 
 indulged in by some of my relations My 
 
 greatest dissipation was at the Marinsky when we'd 
 sup between acts and go straight home to bed. . . 
 
 Grand Duke Alexis never wanted to go to bed 
 
 After the theatre he was always primed for another 
 
 party out at the Islands Our motto has 
 
 always been, "Early to bed and early to rise." . . . . 
 Had to At work early after breakfast till 
 
 77 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 eleven .... luncheon . . .to work again at half 
 past twelve until dinner .... back to work until 
 
 very late at night NOW we are hearing of our 
 
 misguided workmen and soldiers attempting to run 
 the country on SIX HOURS WORK A DAY! .... 
 That would be delightful if they would only devote 
 the remaining hours to recreation and STUDY ' 
 
 .... My 'prisoner' seemed positively boyish 
 
 His voice was in pleasant contrast to the shrill 
 staccato accents I had heard in that gloomy under- 
 ground room of the Foreign Office at Berlin I 
 
 could see at a glance that his present attitude was 
 not a pose, — -his simplicity, like his courage and 
 
 democracy, was GENUINE It explains the 
 
 reason for his composure at THIS VERY MINUTE 
 when a less courageous man would be excitedly 
 running around in circles and making my life miser- 
 able by bemoaning our ill luck To show the 
 
 morale of this family of cave dwellers I'll record this 
 incident: 'Be careful about those electric lamps,' I 
 requested of the ladies. 'If they give out we'll be in 
 darkness.' .... 'Then we'll use our hands and 
 dig ourselves out to daylight!' exclaimed Maria. 
 .... 'WHY can't we start doing THAT NOW?' 
 
 exclaimed Tatiana 'Come on!' chorused Alexis 
 
 and his four sisters as they fell to and are now pawing 
 the dirt away from the embankment that impedes 
 
 our escape I'll have to supervise that work a 
 
 little, for if these girls continue to pile back the dirt 
 the way they are doing it they may stop up the pas- 
 sage both ways and bury us all alive. . . ." 
 
 78 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 X 
 
 ROMANCE IN SIGHT OF DEATH 
 
 28. The next page of the diary is badly blurred and 
 torn, but the following can be made out : 
 
 "We are all about played out The boy is 
 
 exhausted and lying over in a little excavation upon 
 his sisters' wraps, his fingers bleeding and one eye 
 
 blinded with the sand The passageway 
 
 behind us is almost closed up In front of us 
 
 we have hit a solid wall The exhausted 
 
 mother is binding her boy's hands with a portion of 
 
 her petticoat As she kneels there, with the 
 
 faint flicker of a light falling on her finely chiseled 
 profile, she resembles Botticelli's magnificent Ma- 
 donna in the Uffizi Gallery at Florence 
 
 The picture is completed by the dark background and 
 the solicitous attitude of the girls as they cluster 
 around the sufferer. . . With a little imagination 
 one can delineate the jeweled crown which the two 
 
 girlish angels are holding above her head 
 
 Pathos, resignation and a sort of recreating FAITH 
 are painted against that threatening wall and over- 
 hanging dirt If that should fall WE ARE 
 
 ALL BOUND TO SUFFOCATE before any help 
 can come. . . . My 'prisoner' is not a bit dis- 
 couraged, however He is using his jackknife 
 
 79 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 against the concrete wall with great patience and 
 whistling softly and slowly an air from 'The Blessing 
 of the Waters.' .... WATER! .... I know 
 those girls are CHOKING for a drink as I have been 
 
 for the last ten hours myself Still, not one of 
 
 them has murmured at our grief and Anastasie has 
 become quite chummy in pretending to cheer ME 
 
 up Aristocracy or Royalty, even, with 
 
 Democracy in a tunnel, makes us ALL of one size! 
 Under certain conditions a man of my education and 
 family connections MIGHT be privileged to forget 
 the veiled lady of Buckingham and accept these 
 endearing little attentions with some guarantee of 
 hope But WHAT IF WE ALL ARE BUR- 
 IED HERE like the happy families of Hercu- 
 laneum and Pompeii? .... Future inquisitive 
 scientists may find this diary with our bones and 
 classify us as a species of an extinct Tartar tribe! 
 .... The wall my prisoner is gouging out seems 
 to be getting wet " 
 
 29. Then there follows the entry : 
 
 "Water has burst through the hole my prisoner has 
 been making in that wall! . . . ." 
 
 30. The next entry has been evidently water- 
 soaked and is entirely blotted out. ^ 
 
 3 1 . This entry seems sufficiently distinct to make 
 out what the writer has been through : 
 
 "I tried in the foregoing to jot down enough of 
 what was happening to enable anyone who would 
 
 find our bodies to make out how we had died 
 
 What I forgot to record in the excitement I'll put 
 
 80 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 down now When the wall caved in and the 
 
 water burst down upon us it seemed that we would 
 
 soon be drowned alive The small hole in the 
 
 wall had allowed enough water to filter through at 
 first to slake our thirst an dmake us all quite happy. 
 .... But gradually the ground beneath us became 
 damp and sticky and the blue mud clung to our shoes 
 
 like glue until we could hardly move The 
 
 little air that crept in with the water, though, was a 
 
 positive blessing to us all We should have 
 
 stifled Finally the water ceased and our 
 
 hearts began to sink 
 
 ". . . . It was Maria who brought on the FLOOD 
 
 I have learned today With a stone she found 
 
 uncovered by the filtering from the little opening she 
 
 began pounding against the wall Suddenly 
 
 the wall bulged inward. . . . There was a swish, 
 and a roar, and a deadening GUSH, — and then a 
 RUSHING FLOOD tore open the side of the wall 
 and burst like a torrent into our muddy, narrow cell. 
 Higher and higher it mounted, enveloping us to our 
 
 arm pits My 'prisoner' moved calmly over 
 
 to the stately woman, who was holding up the boy, 
 and patted her gently on the head. 'It will be all 
 
 right, darling,' he said Then he kissed all his 
 
 children and implusively dashed in the direction of 
 the cataract. 
 
 ". . . . Struggling hard against the flood he 
 worked his way nearer and nearer toward the broken 
 curbing and finally DOVE through the waterspout 
 and clung grimly to the wall. . . For a moment 
 
 81 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 his body seemed to tremble Then with a 
 
 supreme effort he pulled his body into the opening 
 
 and for a moment checked the flood It 
 
 seemed like a gallant sacrifice .... at the same 
 time .... the girl, Maria, waded back toward 
 the opening that was NOW completely SEALED 
 BY THE STICKY CLAY and began to tear fran- 
 tically at the bank 
 
 Little by little she seemed to make headway . . . . 
 But it appeared like an eternity,— and I felt certain 
 that the man in the wall using his body as a plug 
 must presently give up the ghost and be hurled back 
 
 into our cell I then noticed the water around 
 
 us DROP quickly, and, turning in the direction of 
 Maria I saw her body being caught up by the current 
 and sucked painfully forward into the opening her 
 
 delicate hands had made It was too horrible 
 
 to endure! .... Now, while there is no blood of 
 martyrs in my veins, and while I had PROMISED 
 the sombre figure in Berlin TO DO A CERTAIN 
 THING which a martyr impulse might prevent if I 
 tried to be a hero in this instance, I simply could not 
 look at that girl's struggles without going to her 
 rescue no matter what it cost " 
 
 32. The following then appears: 
 
 "I have no recollection of what happened after I 
 
 grasped Maria by the feet All I remember is 
 
 that I felt myself being dragged along after her 
 through a blinding sheet of muddy, gritty substance, 
 head foremost like a drowning man I imag- 
 ined myself in mid-ocean clinging to some broken 
 
 82 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 shaft after my vessel had been torpedoed, and I clung 
 to those slender ankles as the only hope of life ! . . . 
 When I did recover there was Maria bending over me 
 and vigorously see-sawing my arms back and forth 
 
 in an effort to resuscitate me If ever there 
 
 were an excuse for the chivalry of the Middle Ages it 
 must have crept out of those dark moments when 
 some puissant knight opened his tired eylids upon a 
 vision such as I then beheld! .... But there was 
 no time for Don Quixoting in that damp and muddy 
 
 tunnel We noticed that the waters neither 
 
 rose nor fell. . . . So we plowed our way back to 
 the other members of our party as speedily as we 
 
 could On arriving at the wall again we found 
 
 my 'prisoner' lying propped up against a large slab 
 of concrete and breathing heavily while he held the 
 
 Empress' hand and essayed a feeble smile " 
 
 33. The following entry seems to dovetail in: 
 "The walls of this old cistern promise very little 
 
 assurance for our escape Still the cistern has 
 
 its uses in circumstances like these We 
 
 KNOW, at least, that some kind of human beings are 
 not beyond our voices if we decide to call for help. 
 .... But WHAT KIND of help? .... That is 
 
 the question Last night, as I stood on the 
 
 floor of the cistern I heard an amusing conversation. 
 . . . . A voice overhead was growling; 'I'm as certain 
 as I'm alive that the loan of $250,000,000 has been 
 made by Japan to those fiends who have escaped, — 
 and I KNOW they have the GOLD, for why have 
 those trucks disappeared? . . . so it is worth while 
 
 83 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 to keep up this revolution until we get our hands on 
 some of it if we have to follow them all the way to 
 Vladivostok.' .... 'That rumor has been floating 
 around for the past week,' another bass voice 
 grumbled, 'and I'm inclined to think it is all a game 
 of bunko to divert attention from the pile of 
 600,000,000 the gang have smuggled into Omsk.' 
 .... 'Nonsense,' grunted the other; 'haven't we a 
 thousand eyes at Harbin who know about the Chinese 
 Eastern deal?' .... 'Well, the only thing to do is 
 to keep this hell in a constant bubble until we get 
 the stuff at Omsk or the coin Japan has sent to this 
 CREMATED FAMILY here!' .... 
 
 ". . . . 'Cremated, Ha! Ha! . . . why, did you 
 notice those stoves in the house? .... They're not 
 big enough to burn up a good-sized dog! .... My 
 judgment tells me that that whole squad of double- 
 crossers are in league with that skunk of a "Captain" 
 who pretended to be a friend of Comrade Trotsky.' 
 .... "Well, we made a mistake when we endorsed 
 that BURNING lie,— we are ALL in for it NOW, 
 and the only way to get out of it is to STAY IN IT 
 and lie it out to the end — ' .... 'UNLESS—' 
 'Unless what?' .... 'Unless the Lett who pretended 
 to do the killing is taken out and SHOT!' . . . 
 'Oh, give him a little more rope and he'll hang him- 
 self!' .... When I related this conversation to my 
 
 'prisoner' he was very much amused 'This is 
 
 a real adventure!' he smiled. 'We're like Tennyson's 
 Light Brigade, with cannons in front, and cannons 
 behind us and brigands on every side of us, thirsting 
 
 84 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 for our blood, — these fellows are certainly not 
 Russians!' . . . ." 
 
 34. Then we have this entry : 
 
 "I have noticed all day that the family is gradually 
 succumbing to the ravages of hunger and thirst. 
 .... If we call for help it will mean a FIRING 
 
 SQUAD for sure The criminal crew who have 
 
 already reported our death will HAVE to KILL us 
 
 to make good their boast So we must stay 
 
 here and silently watch one another collapse from 
 day to day 
 
 ". . . . My prisoner says he is willing to give him- 
 self up if his death will enable the rest of us to escape. 
 .... The girls will not listen to such a proposition, 
 — they are all agreed that they would rather organize 
 themselves into a little platoon and FIGHT IT OUT 
 
 if we can ever get out of this cistern It 
 
 indicates a mighty good spirit, — ^but that gang out- 
 side would have us strung up in the twinkling of an 
 eye 
 
 ". . . . I KNOW that Marie expects ME to do 
 something from the inquiring way she gazes in my 
 
 eyes She says nothing, but any man of spirit 
 
 who looks into such clear, unflinching eyes under con- 
 ditions such as these, will understand instinctively 
 what is written in their suggestive depths! .... 
 They literally SHAME me for the little I can do. 
 .... Some lounge lizards may speculate on the 
 nature of the sentiments this grateful princess will 
 reveal if I display sufficient ingenuity to save us all 
 from this slowly approaching DEATH ! . . . . How 
 
 85 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 dramatic! .... How absurd! 
 
 ". . . . I have lately laughed at those Italian poets 
 who bewail the isolation of their Lauras, yet, recalling 
 my Lady Buckingham's repeated rescues, I begin to 
 recognize a reason for the existence of that poetic 
 fervor which agitates the artistic heart when either 
 its safety or its vanity is at stake " 
 
 35. This entry offers a little encouragement: 
 "There is no such thing as physical exhaustion. 
 . . . Hunger and thirst may weight us down, but 
 
 with the right kind of inspiration a man can do 
 
 miraculous things I began rolling up balls of 
 
 mud from the tunnel and carrying them into the 
 cisternuntilmy tongue hung out of my mouth. . . . 
 With those balls I started making a winding stairway 
 around the wall of this cistern until I had a dozen 
 steps completed . . . then the girls began making 
 the balls and bringing them in to me like muddy little 
 hod-carriers My masonry took on propor- 
 tions as the minutes dragged by Finally we 
 
 have a stairway four feet wide and extending from 
 the bottom to within four feet of the top as I write 
 these lines with the girls sitting a few steps below me 
 
 in the slowly hardening clay We can all hear 
 
 plainly the tramping of feet on the planking over- 
 head. . . . It is a kind of shuffling one hears when 
 seated somewhere beneath the dancers in a ballroom, 
 and it may mean that we are headed directly toward 
 the LION'S DEN " 
 
 36. In this entry the Emperor speaks of Ras- 
 putin, spooks and Jews: 
 
 86 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 "It became dark and spooky when our lights gave 
 out .... and while we sat huddled together the 
 
 subject of 'ghosts' came up 'Ghosts!' the 
 
 'prisoner' almost snarled; 'that reminds me of the 
 
 Jewish propaganda against my Government 
 
 There was hardly a Yiddish banker in the world who 
 did not accuse ME personally of inspiring Sheglovitov 
 to have the Jews executed for ritualistic murder; and 
 I am sure their influence will be very strong with 
 certain statesmen and opportunists to have my 
 Empire dismembered when the time comes to settle 
 
 the terms of peace, as poor Nilus predicted I 
 
 wish I could show you a letter I received from a 
 Jewish banker in New York threatening to kill my 
 loan in America and have our existing treaties de- 
 nounced unless I complied with certain Jewish 
 demands. . I did not think it possible and 
 
 ignored the letter, of course You may judge 
 
 of my astonishment when the Jew's threat was made 
 good by the American Government doing precisely 
 what the threat implied. . . . These people have 
 been persistent in accusing ME of having communi- 
 cation with the spirits and of engaging in all sorts of 
 magic, like the infamous Papus; well, if that be so 
 let me exercise my gifts to prophesy that the dena- 
 tionalized Jews will attempt to hereafter enthrone 
 themselves as MASTERS of the civilized world by 
 their mastery of its amusements, its money, its 
 POLITICS and its industry, — and you will find them 
 demanding and RECEIVING special privileges in 
 many countries where, at present, they are suspected 
 
 87 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 and abhorred I have not the slightest doubt 
 
 but that Kerensky will be succeeded by some Jewish 
 politician within a little while — and they will blacken 
 his reputation as they have tried to blacken mine 
 .... the methods may be different but the result 
 
 will be none the less effectual Only the other 
 
 day, I might say, WHEN WE WERE LEAVING 
 TUMEN, a rabble of Yiddish suttlers began yelling at 
 ME: "Rasputin! Rasputlnl where is your Rasputin!" 
 .... Now Grisha Rasputin was a friend of the 
 Metropolitan Archbishop of Protopopov. He was 
 seeking to redeem the reputation of a horse-stealing 
 father if I remember right — ' 'He was a friend of 
 Stuermer, Niki, not a friend to you,' interrupted the 
 
 ex-Empress 'You are right, darling,' returned 
 
 the 'prisoner,' 'quite right, I know.' .... 'What 
 kind of a mountebank was RASPUTIN?' I asked to 
 
 feel my 'prisoner' out 'He was a worthless 
 
 rasputnik at best,' the fallen Emperor answered. 
 .... And you think the Jews are responsible for 
 
 your reported attachment to him?' I asked 
 
 'Undoubtedly,' he said bitterly with a sigh of resig- 
 nation 'When we were being taken to the 
 
 boat at Tobolsk did they not make faces at me and 
 Alice and flout me with their cries : ' 'Take him to the 
 Criminal Court and let him read the record of his 
 libertine, Rasputin ! Let his Barnabas teach him how 
 to sin for the joy of gaining absolution!" .... How 
 little do those enfranchised Jews understand the 
 
 meaning of forgiveness !' lamented the ex-Czar 
 
 'May I ask your actual estimate of creatures like 
 
 88 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Rasputin?" I ventured 'Our Rasputin was a 
 
 hardened criminal beyond a doubt until his con- 
 version by Father Zaborovsky, the good Rector at 
 the Theological Academy at Tomsk,' the ex-Czar 
 
 replied 'He would have made an excellent 
 
 subject for investigation by Lombroso, by Havelock 
 Ellis or other eminent criminologists .... but I 
 believed the man was sincere in his repentance and 
 accepted him as a sort of text for other sinners to 
 
 point a way toward regeneration The higher 
 
 Rasputin rose, the greater his fame became, the more 
 impressive would be his textual example to other 
 aspiring souls, — even a criminal should not be denied 
 the consolation of hope where crime is the result of 
 
 ignorance or misdirected patriotism If I 
 
 sinned in pardoning a sinner then sin must be an 
 unpardonable crime! .... Nathan treated David 
 as I treated Rasputin, although both were guilty of 
 
 the same offense He was grossly illiterate, — 
 
 the only schooling he ever got was in the Monastery 
 Abalaksky and what he acquired from the lips of 
 monks while making his rounds as a barefoot pilgrim 
 
 from place to place His claims of having 
 
 visions I ascribed to his empty stomach, although 
 
 others gave credence to the nonsense Alice 
 
 at first abhorred him ; finally she began to regard him 
 as a rare specimen in self-hypnosis who was worth 
 studying to learn how far the fascinations of self- 
 delusion were capable of deluding and swaying 
 
 stronger wills and more cultivated minds We 
 
 both learned, by observing him, that an ignorant 
 
 89 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 mujik, like an egotistical Minister, if granted the 
 semblance of authority for any length of time, will 
 
 demoralize the finest organization in the world 
 
 That was the lesson both Alice and I acquired from 
 
 Rasputin And I am accepting Rasputin as a 
 
 standard to estimate what will happen when men of 
 his type and origin attempt the government of the 
 
 world Without education, with no experience 
 
 in governing even the smallest unit of society, 
 unfamiliar with the trend of history, ignorant of 
 military and commercial strategy, building their 
 philosophy of life and their science of administration 
 upon some isolated text, they will overturn the whole 
 structure of civilization by arrogating to themselves 
 the supernatural privileges and pursuasiveness of the 
 Voice of God ! . . . . The prospects are not inviting. 
 . . . There are Rasputins in all the chancellories of 
 
 Europe You have them in North and South 
 
 America, — some educated, others like Marat and 
 Danton, while some are simple Cagliostros who 
 
 deceive the people and themselves If they 
 
 were only Gideons instead of Joshuas their strategy 
 might be reassuring, — but they are merely Rasputins 
 and Papuses, after all! . . . . Against all laws of 
 nature they will try to triumph by commanding the 
 heavenly and mundane bodies to stand still until 
 they readjust the motions of civilized society to some 
 dissolving and ruinous invention of emotional insanity 
 where everything runs wild!' " 
 
 90 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 XI 
 
 THE INVISIBLE DIPLOMAT APPEARS 
 
 37. This entry is mystifying: 
 
 "Last night I waited until there was not a sound 
 
 overhead I knew it would be taking 
 
 chances— but I HAD TO GET WATER 
 
 We could no longer survive on MUD! .... I 
 began pushing against the planking overhead to see 
 if there was anywhere an opening, but every plank I 
 pressed against seemed as solid as a stone sidewalk. 
 .... Finally I began thumping with my clenched 
 fist .... and this brought on the fracas. . . .1 
 heard a heavy pair of feet bounding on the floor 
 directly above my head. . . . Then there was a 
 scraping and a sound like the tearing up of carpets. 
 .... Presently I heard an iron bolt crack back and 
 the floor above my head began rising slowly until I 
 found myself looking into the muzzle of a Mauser 
 held in the clenched hands of a tall square-faced man 
 with a jaw like a prize fighter 
 
 ". . . . Another pair of hands reached down and 
 caught me by the collar and I was yanked like a 
 squirming spaniel out of my hole into a large oblong 
 room that was only slightly lighted by a blue student 
 
 lamp upon a small roll-top desk Against the 
 
 wall was a large steel engraving of King George of 
 
 91 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 England, and I could see the Union Jack displayed 
 
 upon another wall There were papers and 
 
 documents and army tents in piles here and there 
 
 round the room BUT THE IMPRESSION 
 
 THAT FLASHED UPON ME was not at all reas- 
 suring for a man who had made his way into SUCH 
 surroundings directly from the other underground 
 corridor in Berlin ! . . . ." 
 
 38. Then this entry follows: 
 
 "From that very hour I AM STRONGLY FOR 
 THE BRITISH. . . .• . I will not attempt to de- 
 scribe that MEAL It was all a King in 
 
 Exile or any of his suite could ask for ; and the silent 
 men who prepared it will always be remembered for 
 
 their discretion and manly hospitality Neither 
 
 of them appeared to KNOW me NOR ANY OF 
 
 OUR PARTY But those gallant fellows are 
 
 adepts at dissimulation I'm certain that the 
 
 tall, slender and soldierly bearing officer will remem- 
 ber the day we had our STRAWBERRIES at 
 Carlton Terrace, and the slender, willowy Duchess 
 who forgot her fan until he picked it up and brought 
 it to her AT MY TABLE, where she paused for a 
 moment to say to me, 'MY FATHER IS IN LON- 
 DON AND WISHES TO SEE YOU BADLY." 
 .... I am certain he remembers what I told her 
 about the Gordons and the Devons in that slaughter 
 at the Somme, — when so few of those brave lads 
 returned! .... If we ever meet again I shall thank 
 him for the robes and provisions and motor trucks he 
 furnished to transport us safely rolled up in army 
 
 92 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 tents for many rough miles across the country in the 
 
 direction of CHANYI LAKE " 
 
 39. We find this entry of the diarist next : 
 
 "I have never beheld a more beautiful landscape 
 
 than the scene before me I am writing this 
 
 on the banks of Altai Lake The balsam 
 
 from the cone-like firs along the gorges surcharges the 
 air with an intoxicating flavor and reflect their 
 inverted gracefulness in the calm waters of the lake. 
 . . . The mountains sloping up from either side 
 are delineated in the mirroring surface and form an 
 archway for the snow-capped and broken pinnacle 
 that towers above the others like a sentinel brooding 
 
 in his frosty and eternal isolation Far off in 
 
 the distance I can see the black and white walls of 
 the KATUN GLACIER and know that, throughout 
 this region, gold and silver, as well as lead and copper, 
 
 most certainly abound In our unending tramp 
 
 today I have discovered many evidences of the 
 presence of zinc and nickel and other minerals lying 
 
 around My 'prisoner' tells me that there are 
 
 mines already working in the upper part of the 
 Talovsky River and that the copper runs very high 
 
 in the vicinity of Chudak Alice wrote to 
 
 Princess G today at T I am NOT 
 
 much impressed nor FAVORABLY by the attitude 
 
 of these natives in the hills They seem to be 
 
 a mongrel mixture of Tartar and Mongolian who are 
 always ready, like the huge ungainly bears we have 
 encountered in our pilgrimage, to grapple and devour 
 one for the mere pleasure of seeing blood! .... 
 
 93 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Maria seems quite interested in these notes, — today 
 she insisted on giving me her impressions of how a 
 NOVEL should be written. . . . She says that to 
 make a story interesting it should be all movement 
 from the opening line to the final wedding bells. . . . 
 When I told her that I was writing HISTORY she 
 pouted prettily and remarked: '1 never think of 
 history without wondering WHO subsidized the 
 writer of the misleading fairy tale.' 
 
 ". . . . This girl has lived close enough to the source 
 
 of history to know what PROPAGANDA is 
 
 Still, I like her uncomplaining buoyancy of spirits in 
 the trial we are going through. . . . We are headed 
 SOUTH toward Kuria and Khotan, where arrange- 
 ments have been made to receive us by some people 
 who know our secret and will respect the rights of 
 ASYLUM in a land where oblivion may mean liberty 
 and love! . . . ." 
 
 40. There seems to have been quite a skip in the 
 notations of the diary. Evidently the diarist has 
 become MORE INTERESTED in something else: 
 
 "The fact that we have been on FOREIGN SOI L 
 during the last fifteen days has considerably relaxed 
 
 our nerves Aside from the rumor constantly 
 
 reaching us that the Mongolian mercenaries are in 
 the employ of the Bolsheviki and offered BIG 
 REWARDS for our capture, we have not been dis- 
 turbed in mind or bodies Maria asked me 
 
 today if I were any relation to CHARLES JAMES 
 FOX, whose oratory she claims to greatly admire. 
 .... When I informed her that I had never met 
 
 94 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 this gentleman her eyes grew very big 
 
 '"What ARE you?' she inquired. 'Are you an 
 Englishman, or a Russian, — you CAN NOT BE A 
 GERMAN,— or ARE YOU AN AMERICAN? Oh, I 
 just hope you ARE an AMERICAN! .... When 
 I informed her that my ancestors fought beside 
 Kosciusko and Pulaski and that their names might be 
 found on the muster rolls of the First Line Regiment 
 of New York Colony and State, along with the names 
 of Goose Van Schaick and Jeremiah Van Rensselaer, 
 
 she burst her sides with laughter 'What a 
 
 happy family you must have been!' she rippled. 
 'When a Fox and a Goose may dwell in peace and 
 amity together there is nothing that is not possible 
 for their race !' 
 
 ". . . . This quick-witted girl, certainly, BE- 
 LONGS in the UNITED STATES,— the plains of 
 Eastern Turkestan are NO place for her " 
 
 4 1 . There seems to be another skip in the neglected 
 diary. Evidently the scenery has lost all its charms. 
 .... He merely notes : 
 
 "My 'prisoner" seems VERY MUCH interested in 
 
 my family connections He seems jolly enough 
 
 about it BUT I can see that something is 
 
 DISTURBING him. . . . He is very obstinate in 
 little things, lately When we get into Cash- 
 mere perhaps his mind will be diverted He 
 
 loves the languid charm of scenic beauty nearly as 
 much as the flattery of his wife. .... Anyway, 
 WHAT can I do? ... . There is a naturalness 
 about this whole affair that one simply CAN'T get 
 
 95 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 away from Danger has a generous way of 
 
 bestowing blessings on the BOLD " 
 
 42. Then we find the following critical entry: 
 "I shall. NEVER read 'Lalla Rookh' again ! .... 
 The Vale of Cashmere may sound fine in poetry but 
 it FEELS TOUGH beneath one's feet whenever one 
 
 dismounts I might overlook the rough spots 
 
 easily enough had not OLGA suddenly interested 
 herself in my ANCESTRY while she found employ- 
 ment for Maria with her brother, who seems sadly 
 
 out of breath My 'prisoner' has forgotten all 
 
 about me in the absorbing interest he displays in 
 what he declares to be EARLY MISSIONARY 
 WORK OF JESUS in these very interesting stretches. 
 It has been no easy matter for me to pilot this p^rty 
 outside the range of camel caravans and soldiers on 
 their way from the Punjab Valley toward RAWAL 
 
 PINDI The rattle of our tongas might be 
 
 heard at any moment and then our little caravan, 
 disguised as Buddhists, might spend some time in 
 
 the GUARDHOUSE at Murree We will not 
 
 regret the shade and comparative coolness of that 
 pleasant Summer Resort, — ^but none of us are longing 
 
 for any more confinement The road from 
 
 Murree down the valley was gullied by the terrific 
 
 rain we have been wading through I have 
 
 never seen a blacker night nor a heavier rain than we 
 
 have just come through We were constantly 
 
 in fear of the falling of those gigantic boulders that 
 overhung our path behind the swishing trees that 
 clung along the precipice The zigzag road 
 
 96 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 that runs down this slope is like a spiral stair in 
 
 crookedness and bumps We could catch a 
 
 glimpse now and again of a light from the little bunga- 
 lows that clung to the mountain sides But 
 
 we dare not arouse the dwellers for many obvious 
 reasons Finally we did encounter an aban- 
 doned inn or hut where we camped for the night. 
 .... Next morning in a fierce and searching sun we 
 rambled into a village set upon a wonderful defile in 
 the heart of the mountains, where we ate our frugal 
 meal At night we reached the Jhelum cours- 
 ing gracefully over rocky beds and through pictur- 
 esque gorges that rise into the azure and serene skies 
 
 of the Himalayan heavens It was a delightful 
 
 place to camp for the night At nine the next 
 
 morning we had reached the little hamlet strung along 
 
 the river bank and known as Tongua Here 
 
 the girls made a number of purchases and we replen- 
 ished our commissary for the march before us into 
 mystic dominions of the LAMA 
 
 97 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 XII 
 
 THE FLIGHT TO TIBET 
 
 43. Then we get this entry: 
 
 "I did not count the number of Hindu castes we 
 encountered at the trading post of Tongua .... 
 there were a hundred, at least, each bearing on his 
 forehead the mani-colored mark of his particular 
 caste, — while the stately Kashmirian in his snowy 
 turban and long white tunic seemed carved out of the 
 frozen snows of the towering mountain sides .... 
 we were offered many cabriolets to assist us on our 
 journey, but one look at one of those backless and 
 circular TABLES between the wheels upon which 
 one must sit like a Turkish mouker with his legs 
 crossed to keep from rolling down the precipice 
 was enough to convince us that the camel route 
 was good enough for us. 
 
 "On the tramp to Horis, along the banks of the 
 Jhelum with its wooded mountains on the right and 
 its rocky precipices on the left, we met a number of 
 pilgrims who had religious scruples against taking 
 part in letting blood of any kind of bird or beast or 
 
 whale They had evidently been to their 
 
 Mecca Another thing we discovered that is 
 
 not generally understood among the unelect 
 
 On the way we came upon a Hindu squatting by the 
 roadside with a pail of rich fresh milk Being 
 
 98 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 thirsty I pointed at the pail and asked him for 
 
 enough to give our party a drink The fellow 
 
 became enraged and informed me that I had defiled 
 
 his milk by pointing my finger at it I said I'd 
 
 take it all, which was evidently what he wished. 
 
 "After we had all drunk our fill I took the half- 
 filled pail, approached the grinning rascal and de- 
 liberately dashed the contents in his face ! . . . .My, 
 'prisoner' was horrified, but Maria enjoyed, it very 
 
 much 'I had one experience in*J^'j5ari;'""my 
 
 'prisoner' confided, 'that has taught 'liie never to 
 oppose the local customs of a country ho matter how 
 absurd they may seem to others, . . ; ."At that 
 time one of my party poked fun at the peculiar" art 
 displayed in the statue of a Buddha."^. . . . The 
 priest became enraged and attempted to, split my 
 head open when I was not looking. "...,.'.. Had .it. 
 not been for my cousin I'm sure I would ViOt'be with 
 you today! .... You will please me much if yoii° 
 respect the ancient practices of these people.' .... 
 
 "Then going to the dripping figure he laid a 
 gold louis on the fellow's upturned palm, — ^HE 
 SEEMED TO KNOW WHAT WAS COMING,— 
 which was proof to my mind that there is more in 
 
 Yogi philosophy than has ever been let out 
 
 .... Frankly, however, I suspect that my 'prison- 
 er's' kindness has only whetted the appetite of that 
 
 knave The way he looks at us would convict 
 
 him in any court of justice that he meditates our 
 murder. ..." 
 
 44. Then we have this entry : 
 
 99 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 "I am not at all mistaken in my estimate of that 
 
 Hindu with the pail of defiled milk He is one 
 
 of the renegade SPIES that hang on the brow of 
 civilization and infest these retreats and mountain 
 
 gorges in search of easy prey There are other 
 
 POWERS above them that lounge in gilded palaces 
 and seem always interested in the charms of 
 lovely women who may suddenly DISAPPEAR. . . 
 I kncfw' the brood of vultures from Stamboul to the 
 •/ed'ligbfes'Of New York and the dens of Singapore ! . . 
 The quick*er*we<get down out of these mountains and 
 into the popul"9ted valley on our way to Seranagur 
 
 the SAEERT will' feel It is all very pleasant to 
 
 iake'a"i3cJk<it this silver ring that encircles the plateau 
 with its eterrial'.^hows, to watch the sparkling water- 
 falls, the gardens and the dimpling lake with its little 
 islands v/lth pottages resting on them and to imagine 
 ' orbVs^ff in the fairyland we used to read about as chil- 
 'dren'.^BUT for a full-grown man, in my position and 
 charged with an important mission, I prefer to be on 
 
 my way There are too many places where one 
 
 may be accounted for as having fallen down the 
 mountain side in the event of some sudden DIS- 
 APPEARANCE!" 
 
 45. By the initiated the following entry will not be 
 misunderstood : 
 
 "It was an unlucky piece of folly that sent us in 
 this direction halfway round the earth to a destination 
 
 we could have reached in fifteen days On our 
 
 way to Bombay where arrangements had been made 
 to slip us quietly across the Peninsula and on to our 
 
 100 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 permanent retreat, we were confronted with the 
 information that people of my prisoner's nationality- 
 were leaving Bombay by request, — and hence our 
 unheralded appearance might attract too much 
 attention to be entirely satisfactory to the interests 
 
 I was serving How this information was 
 
 conveyed to us I may jot down some later day. 
 .... But to make a note of it is sufficient for my 
 
 purpose now There are other wild beasts 
 
 in these mountains besides panthers to account for 
 the death of a man WHO KNOWS TOO MUCH. 
 
 ". . . . Were it not for a positive FEELING of 
 dread that has followed me since I threw milk into 
 that Hindu's eyes, I should like to describe the many 
 fascinating spots encountered in the embrace of a 
 
 squalid and picturesque degeneracy I should 
 
 linger with my brush over the opalescent lake and 
 the sweet, calm repose of Seranagur with its purling 
 river scouring the festooned landings and retiring 
 abodes of tranquillity and ease, — I should like to 
 jot down the scenes of bathers at their twilight dips 
 when both sexes mingle as innocent as our First 
 Parents were of a bathing costume and as devoutly 
 fervent in their ablutions as the fabled Peris of this 
 Paradise themselves. But there is a feeling in the 
 air that some one is pursuing us and which cuts 
 these memorandums short 
 
 46. "Forpurposesof self-protection I shall no longer 
 jot down exactly our location," the next entry reads. 
 "I note merely that we are somewhere in Little 
 Thibet and that I have met the MAN IN YELLOW 
 
 101 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 ROBES AND YELLOW TURBAN AT THE LOW 
 WHITE MONASTERY as I was told to do in the 
 
 Memorandum at Berlin And I approached 
 
 him with the RIGHT FOOT first, my hands held 
 in the appropriate position, until he asked me in 
 excellent French: 'Whence come you?' Then I 
 made the proper sign and whispered the name of the 
 room adjacent to another room which satisfied the 
 Lama that I was the bearer of a MESSAGE to the 
 Exalted Dalai-Lama as well as the principal Khu- 
 
 tuktus of the EAST My little audience was 
 
 much mystified, BUT the MAN IN YELLOW 
 
 ROBES understood He began whirling a 
 
 brass prayer wheel as he advanced toward my 
 
 'prisoner' and salaamed Then laying his 
 
 right hand on the 'prisoner's' shoulder the Lama said : 
 'Your credentials, sahib, are correct, — and it is well ; 
 as your misfortunes have been great, great will be 
 the blessings that will fall upon thy family and thy 
 name. Thy piety hath been known to all my brethren, 
 likewise thy toleration, — although the INFIDEL 
 hath been a thorn pressed evilly against thy side. . . . 
 beware of that same infidel today! He is plotting evil 
 HERE against they very life, — ^he envieth the lives 
 of thine ! .... A religious war now breweth in this 
 land! .... SPIES haunt thy footsteps from the 
 rising to the setting sun. . . . BEWARE lest thy 
 fair daughters and thy wife shall disappear! .... 
 Our prayers, sahib, shall attend thee; and our 
 numerous eyes shall remain open to the PERILS as 
 thou goest EAST where arms are open to receive 
 
 102 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 thee —but see thou, sahib, THAT THOU DOST 
 WALK DILIGENTLY IN THE DIRECTION 
 OF THOSE ARMS! .... 
 
 ". . . . The Lama backed away Never did 
 
 he cease whirling the prayer wheel as he spoke. . . . 
 this constitutes the perpetual prayer of Lamas, the 
 theory being that the wheel communicates the pe- 
 tition to the air and, thus, mingled with the elements, 
 it ascends naturally to the heaven of the blessed. . . . 
 We were then conducted through a long row of very 
 low rooms ornamented with a variety of Buddhist 
 statues that have never been dusted nor apparently 
 disturbed, to an open terrace which overlooked a 
 dreary waste of gray rocks and broken ledges and 
 offered to our view the slender roadway that lay 
 like a ribbon across the plain until it faded into the 
 
 golden glow of the Eastern horizon When 
 
 I looked at that single road, and recalled the WARN- 
 ING of the Lama so solemnly given to my 'prisoner' 
 about the care to be given to his daughters, I 
 REALIZED FULLY THE MEANING OF THE 
 PRYING EYES|that followed us everywhere after 
 my encounter with the milk-fed MUSSULMAN 
 disguised as a Hindu mendicant! . . . ." 
 
 103 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 XIII 
 
 AN ENEMY IN PURSUIT 
 
 47. Local color is given in this note: 
 
 "We have had an exciting day The strat- 
 egy one must sometimes employ in traveling through 
 a hostile country is based upon the principle of de- 
 ception It was the work of Maria too, who 
 
 had evidently been reading up on certain occult 
 works of the Eastern magicians and brought them 
 into play at a moment when we were surrounded by 
 a band of marauders in the company of my 'Hindu' 
 
 friend To explain: There is a certain kind 
 
 of little animal held sacred among these strolling 
 
 outlaws The possession of one of these 
 
 animals is supposed to be a guarantee of future 
 happiness as well as a protection against all danger. . 
 
 They are very hard to entrap and the Ladakian 
 Islamites will spend a month endeavoring to ensnare 
 
 one We were quite a distance from the 
 
 convent at Saspoula, where the road runs around 
 among the rocks and turns back upon itself like a 
 
 horseshoe in the wooded hills At one of these 
 
 bends the pursuers had encamped ready to dash 
 down upon us as we turned the bend and make away 
 with the girls in the direction of their camp in the 
 secluded mountain passes Maria had se- 
 cured a number of those little animals, and, twisting 
 
 104 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 a fine hairpin around one of their hind legs, she let 
 
 one by one escape The animals clambered 
 
 toward the higher elevations where the banditti lay 
 
 in waiting Their movements being impeded 
 
 by the hair pins on their legs they offered an apparent- 
 ly easy PRIZE to the superstitious Islamites 
 
 Abandoning their present enterprise against our 
 party they dashed after the deceptive animals and 
 disappeared over the hills in a mad scamper for 
 
 GOOD LUCK This little ruse cleared our 
 
 pathway and permitted us to reach Saspoula before 
 
 the sun had set Here we passed a number of 
 
 shrines besides the French and Thibetan convents. . 
 Avoiding the convent with the tri-color floating 
 
 from its mast we approached the other 
 
 Here again were the dusty idols, banners and flags 
 thrown into one corner, the floors littered with ugly 
 masks and prayer wheels and books and rolls upon 
 rolls of sacred papers mutely breathing their dele- 
 gated prayers. 
 
 ". . . . As we had been informed, the lamas here 
 were ready to receive us, with meal and beds pre- 
 pared and our own apartments all in order. . . . 
 The Lama who greeted us was about five feet tall, 
 low flat forehead, flat nose, full thick lips, rather 
 round small head and with a sweep of black whiskers 
 
 falling from his chin In fact, NONE of 
 
 these lamas are GRAY, — the only thing that suggests 
 AGE is their stooped and slender bodies and bent 
 
 and bony fingers AND THEY ALLOW THE 
 
 PRACTICE OF POLYANDRY in their diocese! . . 
 
 105 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 One woman has a dozen husbands. . . . and every 
 THIRD man we meet with is a lama. 
 
 ". . . . Still the women we see here are more 
 attractive than those we encountered in Cashmere. 
 
 "... .Before leaving the convent we were again 
 cautioned against holding conversation with 
 STRANGERS we might encounter in the numerous 
 caravans along the road to LEH We punc- 
 tiliously obeyed these instructions during the rest of 
 our journey until we reached the PETAK convent, 
 which stands upon an isolated rock beside an aban- 
 doned garrison or fort, with its two towers looking 
 like ant hills beside the majestic mountain that 
 rises ten thousand feet above our resting place. . . . 
 This mountain is the sentinel that protects our 
 
 entrance into Thibet Six miles away is LEH, 
 
 elevated eleven thousand feet above the lowlands 
 and around whose shadoxvy convents rise those 
 immense granite pinnacles to an elevation of eight- 
 een thousand feet, where their frosty crests are en- 
 shrouded in the fezzes of eternal snows! .... 
 
 ". . . . Leh, with its circlet of stubby aspen trees, 
 its succession of terraces, its old fort and the palace 
 of its forgotten Moguls, has its arms outstretched 
 
 for us The mystic word has been passed 
 
 along our route and BEHOLD we are encamped 
 in a well-furnished three-story white bungalow with 
 odors oozing from the kitchen that promise a night 
 of security and content ! . . . . 
 
 48. The next entry gives a glimpse of the country 
 through which our party passed: 
 
 106 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 "Traveling toward the east we have passed 
 through a number of villages of neat two-story 
 
 houses in these narrow walled-in valleys The 
 
 inhabitants are, clearly, of a Mongolian race, — the 
 homeliest I have ever seen! .... They cultivate 
 but little patches of the land, sit around all day and 
 gain their hollow cheeks and shrunken chests and 
 
 wrinkled foreheads by squinting at the sun 
 
 Even the women are tiny things with a perpetual 
 smile that pushes up their high cheek bones into 
 a horn-like prominence and apparently belies their 
 
 apparent gaiety The belts of these men are 
 
 perfect arsenals of curious-looking things 
 
 With their cloth caps with ear flaps hanging down, 
 their knee breeches and their linen shirts hung with 
 a dozen prayer wheels, they characterize this country 
 well. . . . 
 
 ". . . . If it were not apparently made compul- 
 sory by law these fellows would not wash their 
 
 faces once a year They seem never to have 
 
 changed their clothing until it is beginning to fall 
 
 off their indolent frames They are so lazy 
 
 that their hair falls off their heads And I 
 
 have not yet seen a coat that does not carry the 
 
 smear of their dirty hair That characterizes 
 
 the MEN The WOMEN are altogether 
 
 different They are perfect water rats and 
 
 like to bathe many times a day Their gowns 
 
 are red, worn like a shirt-waist over well-rounded 
 shoulders, and tucked into green pantaloons at their 
 waist line, over which is thrown an elaborately 
 
 107 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 plaited skirt that reaches to their red embroidered 
 
 shoes A lambskin is thrown over the back. . . 
 
 the hair dressed in Italian fashion. . . . the veil 
 festooned with beads and coins and trinkets of all 
 description. . . .an oriental pelisse touched with its 
 
 fringe of gold That's the type of woman of 
 
 these silent places we are traversing MARIA 
 
 HAS DISCOVERED THE ORIGIN OF THE 
 BOLSHEVIKI TENET OF FREE LOVE AND 
 
 MARRIAGE Today she explained to her 
 
 father that the idea was imported into Russia from 
 this country together with the mercenary hordes 
 
 from a region east of here These women,' 
 
 she said, 'do not understand what one means by 
 
 love They think it is too great a luxury 
 
 to be tolerated among self-respecting people. . . . 
 They believe NO MAN is good enough to monop- 
 olize a whole woman to himself That sort 
 
 of MONOPOLY is contrary to the ethics of a first- 
 class Communism everywhere and it must not be 
 tolerated in this blessed Bolsheviki world!" .... 
 'Tut-tut !' said her father. 'Please discontinue com- 
 ments on subjects that no longer interest us.' ... . 
 Manifestly my 'prisoner' is becoming bored by this 
 unending and dreary pilgrimage along the camel 
 route in the direction of the rising sun How- 
 ever, his gallantry to Alice is inexaustible, unflagging 
 and unfailing. If she stubs her toe he wants tO' kiss 
 
 the bruise Maria s comment has apparently 
 
 aroused the hostility of certian personages in this camp. 
 .... If I were not positive that the thing could 
 
 108 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 not be possible I'd swear the TALL square- 
 shouldered lama is well known in Constanti- 
 nople " 
 
 109 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 XIV 
 
 WHERE THE PRISONERS DISAPPEARED 
 
 49. Then this entry reveals the sequence: 
 
 "We had been a number of days on the road, — 
 
 our lives imperceptibly growing into a closer and 
 
 more intimate companionship as the days ambled 
 
 slowly away with the bleak snow-clad mountains 
 
 that we left behind Descending down the 
 
 slopes into a fertile valley, the hillsides terraced with 
 a series of rice yards, and our paths softly shaded 
 
 with the mulberry tree Behind us was the 
 
 white-fringed mountain of the Lama, before us 
 loomed the SACRED PINNACLE OF OMAY and 
 off to the south spread an ancient walled city with 
 steeples pointing heavenward surmounted by the 
 
 CROSS Where the pagoda stood a thousand 
 
 years ago now rise the hospital and the Christian 
 
 missionary school Here the people walk on 
 
 well-paved and broad sweeping streets and the 
 tourists spend their afternoons promenading along 
 
 the smooth and high and broad city wall As 
 
 we approached this city a stream of 'rickshas came 
 dashing in our direction commanded by the TALL 
 slim 'lama" I had supposed we left behind! .... 
 The coolies appeared to understand their parts. . . . 
 Quickly making a circle around us they pulled the 
 women from their camels and tried to rope and bind 
 
 110 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 my 'prisoner' and myself. 
 
 "Of course we were in full view of the consular 
 flags of a dozen different nations; but that did not 
 seem to bother the ringleader of this tatterdemalion 
 
 mob My 'prisoner" fought like a demon. . . . 
 
 He well remembered the lessons he received from 
 
 Heath in the manly art of self-defense Right 
 
 and left he boxed like a well-trained athlete deliver- 
 ing his dymanic punches well But finally 
 
 the gang overpowered him and turned their undi- 
 vided attention to me I was vainly attempt- 
 ing to reach the side of Maria and her sisters, whom 
 the tall bully was forcing into a waiting 'ricksha 
 manned by two barelegged men, — a dozen coolies 
 pounced upon me, tore my clothing into fragments, 
 furrowed my face with their infernal nails and 
 actually attempted to bite me on the ears! . . . ." 
 
 "I have no notion how well or hard I fought, but 
 as I knocked one down another took his place as I 
 fought my way to the side of the now bound and 
 
 helpless girls Their hair was streaming down 
 
 their backs, their faces flushed, their eyes filled with 
 
 tears that sight maddened me !....! have 
 
 been in many fights before, I have lain beside the 
 dead in Flanders and among the Balkan highlands, 
 I have seen blood flowing by me like a river, — and 
 the thought of all these seemed to electrify my soul 
 
 and fill my veins with steel I tore madly 
 
 right and left I never struck such herculean 
 
 blows before or since. 
 
 "I literally grabbed the tall man by the heels and 
 
 111 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 whirled him round like a flail and tore into that gang 
 
 of snarling hellhounds with cyclonic fury I 
 
 literally mowed them down But finally a 
 
 dull thud sounded in my ears A wave of 
 
 light blinded both my eyes I knew nothing 
 
 more until this morning when I awoke in a tent. 
 Beside me was a loaf of bread and a canteen of cool 
 water. . . . NOT ANOTHER SIGN OF A LIV- 
 ING CREATURE IS IN SIGHT I am in a 
 
 deep mountain gorge, leading to the south along a 
 narrow roadway that has apparently witnessed the 
 procession of unnumbered ages. 
 
 50. Then this entry: 
 
 "After tramping all day I finally emerged in the 
 sight of a swift-flowing river on either bank of which, 
 in the distance, appeared two walled-off cities of 
 
 considerable size Foreign GUNBOATS were 
 
 lying in the harbor in holiday attire As I 
 
 approached the city a courier came running to meet 
 me When he approached I drew back pre- 
 pared to fight. . . . 
 
 "But his friendliness disarmed me and I allowed 
 
 him to draw near 'LiT ladee wantee see 
 
 you quick; you cum foller me," he said, and turned 
 
 back from where he came I followed him 
 
 with beating heart On the dock at the land- 
 ing where the gunboat was steaming up MARIA met 
 me with moistened eyes. . . . 
 
 "She informed me in a low voice that the officer 
 was ready to receive me and accept my orders. . . . 
 And then she said. 
 
 112 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 " 'Before you go I wish to thank you for all you 
 
 have done for us If our paths should ever 
 
 meet again I want you to know my heart will beat 
 more quickly when I shall see you coming up the 
 path.' .... That said, she flung her slender arms 
 around my neck, impulsively, and looked calmly in 
 
 my eyes When, involuntarily, my arms 
 
 showed signs of being prehensile, she sprang away 
 quickly and flashed along the gangway to disappear, 
 like a holy vision, behind that gray storm door ! . . . " 
 
 5 1 . The last entry reads : 
 
 "It has been a habit with me for many years to 
 
 never be surprised When I appeared on 
 
 deck to give the code to the commander of that 
 
 vessel this habit was unmoored A tall, 
 
 square-jawed man approached me with a twinkle 
 in his clear blue eyes I looked at him in- 
 quiringly and a little reiminiscently until I heard him 
 
 speak 'I see the loaf of bread came in handy,' 
 
 he said, extending me his bony hand 'I 
 
 thought I left you at Ekaterinburg,' I exclaimed, 
 recalling the moments we spent after our escape from 
 
 the abandoned tunnel 'Oh,' he laughed, 
 
 'YOURS was not a one-man job; there are others in 
 the world besides yourself intrusted with state 
 secrets. .... 'But what do you know about the 
 bread, you just spoke of it?' 
 
 " 'My company was following on behind,' he 
 answered. 'When we came round the bend we saw 
 you scrapping with that outlaw from Trebizond. 
 You did quite well; you had all but three of them 
 
 113 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 laid out in manly fashion when you got that clip on 
 the back of the head. Then we stepped in and con- 
 ducted your party to their present quarters. . . . 
 thought it better for you to remain in the tent while 
 the authorities here locked up those cutthroats for 
 your disappearance.' 
 
 " 'Have you the CODE WORD?' I asked 
 
 He whispered it in my ear Then I lettered 
 
 the order Finally he asked, 'Would you not 
 
 like to meet my SISTER who has been so much 
 interested in you?' 
 
 "His sister! I had never heard of her! .... 
 'Of course!' I answered amiably enough for one 
 completely stumped. . . . 
 
 "He called a petty officer and said a few words 
 
 in an undertone In a minute a radiant young 
 
 woman with springing steps glided gracefully down 
 
 the deck She was not, in her present attire, 
 
 much different from Maria but as she drew 
 
 near I noted the difference at a glance She 
 
 came forward quickly and held out her hand. 'Con- 
 gratulations, Mr. Fox!' she said smiling 'The 
 
 Metropole!' I gasped, — 'what brings YOU here?' 
 'Still asking questions!' she coquetted prettily. 
 'I merely called, of course, to inform you that the 
 sapphire is in America!' .... I thought hard for 
 
 more than a minute Then it occurred to me 
 
 that I had seen her in a dozen disguises shadowing 
 me from Buckingham to the room upstairs on 
 Downing Street, — to charm me later at The Hague — 
 to disappear like a will-o'-the-wisp, — then to fascinate 
 
 114 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 me at the Metropole.' .... 
 
 "Well, the commander of the vessel tells me that 
 it is fourteen hundred miles down stream to Woosung 
 and that the voyage will take seven days from there. . 
 With his code word still ringing in my ears to be re- 
 peated to one man at Berlin, to another man in 
 England, another in Japan, and to a dignitary in 
 Italy, the mission I have undertaken shall have been 
 successfully discharged, so far as history and public 
 
 policy is concerned But there is another 
 
 mission that I shall, some day, undertake that will 
 be enshrined in lovely memories and lively fancies 
 until that day shall come." 
 
 115 
 
PART TWO 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The daring reference by Fox, in the foregoing, to 
 personages and events, to locations and the life 
 inciden tthereto, that may easily be confuted are 
 they false in any of their details, leads to but one 
 conclusion. 
 
 Yet there are other incidents that reinforce that 
 conclusion, that are only casually touched upon by 
 Fox. The references to "the Performer at the Metro- 
 pole" who "is a Baroness sure enough" and to the 
 person named as "Syvorotka," in whom the Baron- 
 ess is interested, display an unconscious connection 
 between the mysterious underground diplomats and 
 the Secret Agents who were acting independently in 
 the rescue, and supplementing the activities of Fox, 
 will be found to be fully authenticated in the vivid 
 incidents recorded by the diarist of Part Two. 
 
 This diarist was doubtless a Russian gentleman of 
 the official class, of elevated standing with the former 
 Government, and of pronounced aristocratic senti- 
 
 119 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ments. His previous official connections seem to 
 have been with the High Administration, the 
 Ministry of Finance, or with the Council of Ministers. 
 Like many others of his class in the old regime, when 
 the Revolution broke, he was forced to degrade him- 
 self and mingle with the evil elements that were 
 bent on loot and rapine. By May, 1918, he appears 
 to have been transformed into a perfect type of 
 "Red" that deceived and terrorized the Russian 
 population and gave credence to the Bolshevik 
 assertion that "former officialdom is now acting with 
 the proletariat." How well the diarist deceives the 
 Bolsheviki and sustains this claim of Trotzky is fully 
 revealed in the dramatic incidents recorded: nowhere 
 in literature is found a better illustration of social 
 metempsychosis, — of the abasement of moral and intel- 
 lectual refinement to the elemental and unconscious 
 vulgarity and irresponsibility of predatory Communism 
 and mob indifference to shame! It is the devolution 
 of Moral Responsibility into organized iniquity and 
 characterizes primordial Passion released from senti- 
 ment and law, — and it was the necessary camouflage 
 of the diarist in his struggle for life and in his efforts 
 to promote the Czar's escape. 
 
 In translating Part Two, or the memoranda of 
 this Imperial rescuer, from Russian into English, or 
 the frequent French, to characterize the event re- 
 corded, there were found to be many situations, 
 phrases and expressions that may shock the sensitive 
 reader; in the conceptions of the diarist, however, in 
 his cynicism and degradation he photographs Red 
 
 120 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Russia and reveals the characteristics necessary to 
 visualize the horror that accompanied the event. 
 A truthful picture of this unique segment of human 
 history can be preserved only in a word-for-word trans- 
 lation of this document. Therefore, with the ex- 
 ception of a few letters involving the name of 
 A. F. Kerensky, nothing has been withheld from the 
 inspection of the reader to view the conduct of 
 nobility subjected to privations, temptation and the 
 fascinating power of sin. 
 
 Translator. 
 
 121 
 
I. PETROGRAD 
 
I. PETROGRAD 
 
 1. 
 
 .... and, post factum, everybody claims that 
 "he (or more often she) predicted it long ago, but 
 they would not listen." It is a lie; we all knew that 
 the war has been conducted abominably, that Ras- 
 putin and Stiirmer were plotting, that the adminis- 
 tration was greatly inclined to graft, — all gossip of 
 the town. But no one whom I had seen since the 
 execution of the monk was aware of the real fact: 
 the revolution was in the air. Rodzianko, to whom 
 I spoke at the Club only a fortnight before the 
 abdication, said that everything would turn out all 
 right. In fact, the Court, and people around it, — 
 were much better posted; perhaps they felt some- 
 thing growing instinctively, as they were too silly 
 to crystallize their fears in some concrete conception. 
 Maroossia was in Tsarskoye Selo not long before the 
 old Admiral's death; they said that the danger was 
 expected from the "Town and Country Union." 
 But all these whispers and chatterings were always 
 of the cathegory of a "so-and-so, whose brother's 
 friend knew a man who . . . ." 
 
 With all my running around about the town I 
 must confess I did not notice any movement; I 
 always thought that the reason of the unrest — was 
 the shortage of food, and a little provocation, to put 
 Stiirmer in a disagreeable position. The realization 
 of the serious danger approaching all of us came to 
 
 124 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 me only when the police fired on the mob on the 
 Nevsky and the first real clash took place. I hap- 
 pened to cross the Liteinyi near Basseinaya Street, 
 when I heard for the first time in my life the whistling 
 of bullets and the peculiar drumming of the machine 
 guns. I felt weak in the knees and around the waist 
 and had to stand in a porte-cochere for a while. It 
 was only for a few moments, and I felt ashamed of 
 this disgusting feeling of fear. A crowd of cooks, or 
 maids, passed near me shouting and screaming for 
 help; they had disgustingly lost their self-control. 
 I reached home in a hurry and found Maroossia pale 
 and frightened. I had to tell her not to show her 
 nose in the streets. Then Mikhalovsky called me up 
 and asked how did I like the revolution. He did 
 not like it : his cook had been shot in the knee ; a very 
 moderate cook, in fact. 
 
 Committees, everywhere committees! Every- 
 where suspicions! No more cheerful faces! Per- 
 manent meetings of the new elements! Much con- 
 versation! Greetings! Wishes of prosperous free 
 life! Hopes of the Allies that we will continue the 
 war! 
 
 125 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 All this still characterizes our poor country. 
 
 Today — for the first' time in my life (it is only the 
 beginning!) I saw a real communist alive. He was a 
 man of rather short size and dark complexion, if such 
 could be detected under his greasy cheeks. He wore 
 a small beard twisted at the end in a tin hook. His 
 ears — transparent and pale — were unproportionately 
 big. I stopped near the Elisseiev store to buy score 
 cards for this evening's bridge, when a little group of 
 men — civilians and soldiers — gathered near the 
 communist. The usual crowd of nowadays loafers, — 
 shabby looking, discussing something, casting around 
 looks full of hostility, hatred and superiority. A boy 
 brought a chair from a cigar counter, and the com- 
 munist stepped on it, and started his talk. "Tovar- 
 ishshi," he said, "the time has come." .... They 
 all applauded, though nobody knew what was going 
 to be next, and the speaker could even have been a 
 reactionary. 
 
 "This is he," shouted a sailor to me ; a big chap with 
 hair falling off of his cap. 
 
 "Who is he?" I questioned. 
 
 "You, burjooi," a soldier said to me, "no wonder 
 you do not know him. This is Comrade Trotzky. 
 He comes from America. You had better move on 
 or I'll tell who you are," — he continued staring at me 
 very resolutely, and spat on the sidewalk right near 
 my foot. 
 
 I moved on. What people ! 
 
 I crossed Nevsky and stood on the other side. 
 From there I could not hear Comrade Trotzky, but 
 
 126 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 studied his movements and gesticulation, his manner 
 of scratching his nose, of quickly turning his head in 
 a derby, and the nervous shrugging of his shoulders. 
 The mob applauded him after every phrase, making 
 his speech a series of separate sentences and thus 
 giving him the advantage of thinking of most radical 
 ideas, while awaiting for the listeners to finish the 
 applause. 
 
 I have finally decided to give in my resignation. 
 What is the use? No work is being done. We only 
 talk. The whole administration, the whole ad- 
 ministrative machinery, stands still, evidently retro- 
 grading every day. 
 
 Many understand it. Rodzianko is going away 
 south ; a man whom they think too old and too much 
 of a reactionary. He is quite depressed, I presume, 
 but likes to look perfectly satisfied. When I asked 
 him whether the war looked to him as though it were 
 to be continued, he gazed at me, and not after 
 hesitation sighed, and said : 
 
 "Yes, if the army will stand the effects of order 
 number one." 
 
 And then, fearing the next question coming, he 
 assumed the air of a busy man and shook hands — " 
 "as he had to go and see his relatives." 
 
 Nearing the house I saw Kerensky in the Emper- 
 or's car, proud, and smiling to left and right. His 
 Excellency, the Minister of Justice! 
 
 127 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Everybody is sure and proud that he is building 
 up the new Russia. Lawyers and doctors, engineers 
 and priests, all run with busy faces, — they think 
 a statesman of today must run, — everybody gives 
 orders, counter-orders, nobody carries them out,, 
 nobody listens. There are about 200,000 Napoleons, 
 in Petrograd today ; as they multiply by section, this 
 number will be enormous before long. The situation, 
 however, does not improve. ... 
 
 In the office there was quite a discussion of the 
 probabilities, and I was listening to the younger' 
 people. Criticism and "my own opinion" are the, 
 main sicknesses. Perhaps the private initiative used, 
 to be so hardly oppressed, that it comes out at present' 
 in excess. 
 
 Why should lawyers be convinced, that their pro- 
 fession gives them the right, primo genio to be 
 statesmen? I should suggest an archeologist, or a 
 man in charge of a lighthouse. 
 
 We all went to the "Farce," Maroossia and F., 
 myself and Misha. Afterwards we had supper. At 
 
 128 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 the next table to us were the M's., Alexander Ivan- 
 itsky and the Baroness B. Since her return she 
 certainly looks much better. At first I did not see 
 her, then before all she reprimanded me in her usual 
 kind manner. She had grown a little thinner and 
 has more jewelry I should say, and is as fascinating 
 as before. When she speaks one can see that she 
 thinks of far distant things. 
 
 "We all are busy these days," she said, when I 
 asked her whether she came here from England just 
 for curiosity to see all of us under the Provisional 
 Government. "You did not change at all." Misha, 
 who did not know B. before, did not like her very 
 much, — in fact, they all think she is suspicious. 
 Aren't these youngsters peculiar? Especially Misha 
 who is so grouchy lately — all seems dangerous to him. 
 I never think that a woman can be anything but 
 pretty or hideous. There is no middle, and no sus- 
 picion about them. I f a woman is, what they perhaps 
 would call "suspicious" — then there is a man's 
 influence behind her — so find the man (and it is easy) 
 and she is as plain as a card on the table. Baroness 
 B. is pretty. And if she likes to talk like a Pythia,— 
 that's her way of making people interested in her. 
 
 Maroossia complained of a headache, so we left 
 early. Baroness is in the Hotel d'Europe — she is so 
 sorry that ' 'her Astoria' ' became such a hole. Well — 
 not only her Astoria. 
 
 129 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 5. 
 
 It certainly would be a wonder to expect anything 
 but confusion from the men who recently became 
 the leaders of 180 millions. The leaders are sure 
 they can make wonders. 
 
 Prince Lvov! This old squeaking carriage, as 
 Polenov says, is a man from whom I would not ex- 
 pect anything. It is enough to look at his beard, 
 with remnants of yesterday's dinner on it, at his 
 small blue foxy eyes always reddish and always 
 dropping tears. Miliukov! Minister of Foreign 
 Affairs! All his experience consists of a continuous 
 chain of political breaks and a series of moderately 
 paid, superficial articles on Balkan questions in a 
 provincial newspaper. And, Monsieur Kerensky, — 
 la fine fleur — the Minister of Justice, a little man 
 with a single kidney and a double ambition. I nsects ! 
 
 These people would not be able to administer a 
 small country community, and here they are con- 
 fronted with three immense propositions : the Great 
 War, the building up of a new state, and the fighting 
 of an organized propaganda directed against the 
 war, and against order. 
 
 It was enough for the ladies (and for Maroossia 
 too) to see all of these people in power, in order to 
 find interesting points, not only in their political 
 activities, that would not be so bad — but in their 
 private lives too. They all already know who these 
 
 130 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 people are, what they eat, when and where they were 
 born, what their wives and mistresses look like, etc., 
 etc., up to the most intimate deeds and traits of their 
 characters. The foreign ladies also take a very 
 keen interest in those little tea-chats. All prefer to 
 listen to them much rather than to the events at 
 the front. 
 
 Vadbolsky wrote me a letter sent through the 
 "Help the Soldiers" society. Of course he could 
 not say much. They all realize that dicipline is 
 going down with tremendous speed, at least at the 
 Northern front. The soldiers listen more to what 
 the Council of Deputies say than to anything else. 
 This treble power — the Council, the Government 
 and the Army Authorities — must be united, but there 
 is no one to realize it; and if there were, there would 
 be no possibility of co-ordinating the different 
 currents. 
 
 6. 
 
 Evening with the Ivanitskys. 
 After dinner we all went into the library and start- 
 ed as usual to speak of our very bad affairs, the 
 high cost of living, even here, in a private home, 
 reserved, not to be accused of reactionary tastes. 
 The ladies looked at every one who would start to 
 
 131 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 talk, as if he would be the man to solve all of our 
 complicated problems and mishaps. 
 
 Baroness B., whom I had seen very much lately, 
 talked to me for a while in a corner, to the ridiculous 
 anger of Maroossia who went to bed tonight without 
 kissing me. She (the Baroness) said that Sophie 
 had already reached London after the stay in 
 Copenhagen and Paris. "Her mission," she said, — 
 as usual coquettishly and childishly looking around 
 with a fear of being overheard, — "was a failure." 
 In Copenhagen "they would not even listen" to 
 Sophie, and she was told that the solution and the 
 "demarches" must be made, if made, from London, 
 as there people have every means to arrange with 
 Berlin. I asked the Baroness to keep all of this 
 news to herself, and not to drag me, or what would 
 be worse, Maroossia, into any conspiracy. "Be 
 just as you are and don't try to become more serious, 
 it may spoil you" — . Heavens knows what the Baron- 
 ess has become since her peculiar conduct with the 
 Vassilchikov and her permanent whisperings to 
 Madame Vyrubov and the rest of the gang. But 
 still, there was already a movement about Tsarskoe 
 Selo. If I were not so particular about avoiding 
 silly conversations, I would have asked her what 
 she meant by communicating Sophie's failure to me. 
 
 Finally, I am glad, I did not ask her questions. 
 What is the use of the Emperor's release to me? 
 A man who did not know how to pick his advisors, 
 who did not know how to arrange his home affairs, 
 his Alice von Hessen Darmstadt, his monks and his 
 
 132 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 generals, does not deserve to be too much regretted, 
 and certainly does not deserve too particular interest. 
 Baroness B's. actions are strange. Is she paid? 
 By whom? Cash? Promises? .... 
 
 (a page missing) 
 .... was stopped by me and slightly pursed her 
 red lips, we joined the rest, where a British Major 
 (I never can think of his name) was telling of his 
 experiences in the research work for German propa- 
 ganda in Petrograd. So sorry he had to speak 
 French with his typical Anglo-Saxon struggles with 
 "D" and "T," that makes French so perfectly un- 
 understandable in an English mouth. It is horrid 
 that people like the Ivanitskys don't know English 
 well enough, and now, when we all have to be among 
 our British allies, we make ourselves, and the allies 
 as well, simply ridiculous! 
 
 So the Major explained that their man was at 
 several meetings of a body, which he called "Le 
 conseil secret du parti bolchevique" (that must have 
 been something very bad indeed), where a man 
 by name Lenine was present, also communists 
 Bronstein, Nakhamkes, Kohan, Schwarz and others, 
 I forget. They all are conspiring. "Be no war 
 with our brethren," "Be peace on earth," "Closer 
 together peasants and soldiers, workingmen and 
 poor," "To hell with the intelligentzia," "Long live 
 the International," etc., etc., was all we saw on the 
 banners lately. The queerest thing is that the 
 British agent at the meeting saw amongst the 
 anarchists several men from the police, and a fellow 
 
 133 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 by name of Petrov, the same one that had the 
 accident on the Moscow railway and was asked to 
 leave the Foreign Office a couple of years ago. Now 
 Petrov is with the communists. Again the agent 
 reported the presence of the 1905 blackhundreds. 
 They all are there, and instead the "Boje Tsaria 
 Khrani," they shout the International. They all 
 understand their people (the agent said) and they 
 all are with the Lenine and others, to return to the 
 sweet past by destroying the bitter present. Sir 
 George, the Major continued, knew all about these 
 significant political blocks, and reported them to 
 London, but the Foreign Office and the G^nseil de 
 Guerre seem to be either ignorant (I would not be 
 very much surprised), or know more than the Am- 
 bassador, so, as yet, our Cabinet has not been 
 warned. Our Cabinet! It sounds majestic .... 
 Since Miliukov left, and the mercantile Monsieur 
 Tereshchenko took his hot seat — everything goes 
 to the devil with our policy abroad. It is strange, 
 for Mr. Tereshchenko must be well posted in foreign 
 relations: both of his French twin mistresses gave 
 him every possibility of becoming "bien verse." 
 
 But — oh, shades of Count Nesselrode and Prince 
 Gorchakov! Inspire the newcomer, looking from 
 the walls of the Foreign Office, at his struggles! 
 Your illegitimate son needs your sense and help . . . 
 
 134 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 7. 
 
 Since the scandalous discovery of the plot (Mr. 
 Kerensky took personal care to make it scandalous) — 
 perhaps it was not a plot, but just a few letters of 
 the Gr. Duchess M. P., Tsarskoye Selo has become 
 very difficult to reach and to visit. A few days ago 
 Maroossia came home from A. very late and so tired 
 that I thought she was ill. The communication 
 seems completely stopped, and soldiers were looking 
 in the automobile every five minutes. Once she 
 thought they would arrest her. Sentinels not only 
 around the Palace, but in the garden too, with a 
 double chain of Reds on the streets ! The General 
 told Maroossia that some one explained to him that 
 these difficulties and impediments were provoked by 
 the successes of the Germans on the Riga front, and 
 that they expect a serious drive on Petrograd, and 
 twice insinuated about her going to Yalta, or Gur- 
 zoof, or Gagry, — as things there rapidly were be- 
 coming complicated. So said the Admiral too, in 
 his peculiar way: "The rats before a shipwreck 
 usually feel the coming wreck by instinct, and run 
 on the decks." He said that was his impression in 
 Tsarskoye. Every rat is exceedingly nervous and 
 tries to disappear from the Palace under some pretext 
 or other, and the Palace is deserted. 
 
 Kerensky is coming there very often, usually with 
 his milk-fed A. D. C This man wants to be 
 
 135 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 generous, he wants to be square, in fact, — he wants 
 to be magnificent. He calls the Emperor "Colonel 
 Romanov," or "Nikolai Alexandrovich." Never 
 says, "Your Majesty." He feels sure that he is 
 beloved in Tsarskoye, and that they speak of him 
 with tears of gratitude, admiring his justice and his 
 manners. I hardly think Kerensky realizes that 
 they are simply frightened, and feel with their 
 inborn appreciation of the man, that by playing on 
 his exceedingly well developed self-veneration — they 
 might be saved. 
 
 I have been told in the Club that the Government 
 is planning to get rid somehow of the whole family. 
 The foxy old Polenov explained to us after bridge 
 that he would not be surprised if Kerensky would say 
 to the Lenine crowd that the Emperor should be 
 taken somewhere in the country on account of the 
 German advance, and to Buchanan .... on ac- 
 count of the growing strength of Lenine. "Many 
 more people are interested in this affair," he said, 
 "than even Kerensky knows. If he knew, he would 
 have a larger field for bargaining." 
 
 Devil knows who is who now! If police officers 
 enlist in the communists, — what is next? Trotzky's 
 going to a high mass? 
 
 136 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 8. 
 
 Dined with Buchanans and the Lazarevs. Ros. 
 was wounded. We all enjoyed this little story: — 
 A German girl was asked : 
 "Konnen sie Ibsen?" To which she replied: 
 "Nein! Wie macht man das? " 
 
 9. 
 
 I suspected, and feared, that it could or might 
 have happened, — and so it was ! 
 
 Yesterday Mikhalovsky asked me to come to his 
 office. He looked queer and worried, and when I 
 stepped in, he closed the door and started to reproach 
 me with every sign of excitement, so proper to him ; 
 spitting all over my face. 
 
 "I never expected that from you! I never ex- 
 pected! How is it? What is it!? . . . ."and so on. 
 
 I stopped him and asked him to be more explicit, 
 as I could not grasp all of the meaning of his ele- 
 quence. After he lit a cigarette (how many times 
 
 137 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 this little thing has been a salvation!) Mikhalovsky 
 became more comprehensible and told me that 
 Misha 'phoned at one o'clock in the night and asked 
 him to come immediately to the Intelligence in his 
 private office. Mikhalovsky, who is now taking 
 great care of himself, drinks some waters, takes 
 green pills and goes to bed at nine, became enraged 
 and refused, but Misha said he was an ass, and simply 
 had to dress and go to the headquarters. So the old 
 thing had to dress and appear. Misha showed him 
 a short note from the French Agent which read 
 something like this: — "Baroness B. evidently com- 
 municating with Copenhagen through Sharp and 
 Starleit M. General Z. to be approached, also 
 Quart. — General R. In one instance a package 
 carried to Sestroretsk by a lady in a blue tailor suit 
 with white fox fur. Trail lady, arrest Baroness B. 
 Watch Finland Depot, radio to Generals Z. and R." 
 No signature. 
 
 My astonishment was very great, and I said that 
 "though I have known Baroness B. quite well since 
 I met her in Paris and Monte Carlo and .... 
 
 {five lines scratched out from manuscript) 
 .... "Quit your damn jokes for a while," he 
 exclaimed. "Do you realize what you are talking 
 about? The lady with the fox — is Maroossia!" 
 
 "Maroossia? Spying?" I said, becoming angry 
 in my turn. "You will have to account for it, Boris 
 Platonovich, as even an old friend and relative must 
 think over those accusations." 
 
 Then Mikhalovsky explained that Misha's man 
 
 138 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 followed the lady — up to the house, and that it was 
 Maroossia. Another one "'listened in," and under- 
 stood from Maroossia's and Baroness B's. conver- 
 sation, that my wife took the package to a certain 
 Madame van der Hiichts in Sestroretsk, on being 
 told to do so by the Baroness, and that she did not 
 know what there was in it, and even did not know 
 who Madame van der Hiichts was. 
 
 "You see, you boneheaded fool," Mikhalovsky 
 continued, "what was the danger? If Misha had 
 not succeeded in having his own man listen in, and 
 do it quietly, all of this detective work, your Mar- 
 oossia would be gone by this time." "But," — he 
 continued, "now the case is closed, as far as your 
 wife is concerned, and the only thing I wish to insist 
 upon, — is to get Maroossia out of here right now. 
 Furthermore, you should give her a scolding." 
 
 I said it would not be omitted. 
 
 10. 
 
 Maroossia left for her father's. We certainly had 
 some explanation ! She cried and felt indignant, and 
 finally understood why I was so angry when the 
 evening papers came out with the news of Baroness 
 B's. arrest. Then — she understood that she never 
 should do anything that was asked her "without her 
 
 139 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 husband's knowledge." The case, as Mikhalovsky 
 says, is closed. 
 
 The last two or three evenings I spent with both 
 Mikhalovskys. They told me strange stories. I 
 simply cannot believe them. First — that the Ger- 
 man staff sent Lenine here with a special message to 
 some people now in power. ' 'We know all about it, ' ' 
 said Misha, "but the time is not yet ripe to act." 
 Second — that a certain person received a request not 
 to touch Grimm, nor any of the communists. Third — 
 the strangest — to get the Tsar's family out. "All of 
 this news would have been much fuller if only we 
 could decipher some of this," — and Misha took out 
 of his pocket and presented me with this strange slip 
 
 of paper 
 
 (missing) 
 . . . . — all of these crossings of the lines are words, 
 or ciphers, or phrases, God knows what, and they 
 must mean something very important for they were 
 taken from members of this web, and stand in direct 
 connection with our present, or rather our future, 
 attitude. But that is about as much as we knowof it. 
 
 11. 
 
 I went to Cubats for luncheon, as the cook had to 
 go to a meeting, — how do you like that? — and I do 
 
 140 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 not regret it, for I learned much. 
 
 When I think of Cubat's, Contant's or the Hotel 
 de France's public before the war, and compare 
 them with the present, I find the difference on the 
 style of people simply enormous. They never were 
 here before, — these types of men with eyes looking 
 for quick money, for instantaneous riches, for some 
 "affaires du ravitaillement militaire.^' Yesterday's 
 poor chaps, that would not know the difference 
 between a cotelette and a jigot are ordering and 
 easily eating things that it would take me some time 
 to think of. Democratisation of French cooking, or 
 vulgarisation of exclusive tastes ( ?) which ? 
 
 I met Frank at Cubat's Heaven knows 
 
 how he got released from custody. I could not help 
 it when he approached my table and greeted me; I 
 asked him whether he had heard anything from 
 Colonel Makevich. He asked me about Maroossia, 
 so one thing led to another, and finally the waiter 
 brought a chair. "Can I join you?" he asked. I 
 growled something like "delighted" and so he sat 
 down. The conversation at first was rather general, 
 and then suddenly: 
 
 "Did you hear anything of the Baroness B's. case, 
 and how is she now?" he said. 
 
 This unexpected question put Frank in a new light. 
 I had to take several puffs of my cigarette to think 
 over my answer. Frank gave me time to prepare 
 the response in giving orders to the maitre d'hotel. 
 Quite a bit of time elapsed after he questioned me. 
 I hoped for an instant that he was going to forget 
 
 141 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 about it, but, alas, when he was through with his 
 orders (from which I understood that he either had 
 become rich, or expected me to pay his check) he 
 looked at me and repeated: 
 
 "Yes, sir, did you hear anything new of the poor 
 Baroness?" 
 
 "Well," I replied, "the only thing that we all 
 know: she is in jail." 
 
 "Your information," he smiled, "is quite old. 
 They released her about a day or two after this 
 misunderstanding was cleared up." 
 
 "What do you mean 'misunderstanding.' You 
 would not call such a case so gently, I suppose?" 
 
 "Here we are!" Frank said, lowering his voice. 
 "So you must know more than the average person. 
 I, personally, knew only that there was an arrest, 
 and a release (as I saw the Baroness) after they 
 understood that there was no reason for holding a 
 perfectly loyal lady. I think we should talk it over 
 again, but not here. I read in the Town Activities 
 column that your wife went to Tula. Couldn't you 
 join me for dinner tonight at Contant, say at seven- 
 thirty?" 
 
 My first impulse was to refuse him flat. Then I 
 happened to think that my avoiding him would per- 
 haps somehow reflect on Maroossia for her silly 
 behavior with the package. Besides I was interested 
 to know what Frank would talk about, and to know 
 what happened to the B. And again it interested me 
 to know what he was doing at present. So I hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 142 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 "Please do, decide affirmatively," he begged. 
 "I feel sure you will not regret a good dinner." 
 
 "Very well," I said, "at seven-thirty." 
 
 After luncheon I crossed the street to see Mikhal- 
 ovsky, whom I was sure to find in the Club. He was 
 going out with Polenov. 
 
 "Aha, dear boy!" Polenov said to me. "The 
 wife is away, and here he runs around like — .... 
 (his comparisons are striking, but very rough!) 
 Come on with me. There are no political parties or 
 platforms at Nadejda Stepanovna. A little lawyer, 
 and an old soldier are equally welcome. Nadejda 
 Stepanovna just telephoned there are new ones." 
 
 The old fool ! As if there was a single living being 
 in the town that would not know that all his pleasures 
 were reduced to kissing a new girl on the forehead 
 and petting her behind the ears! Nadejda Step- 
 anovna told me how they all laughed watching 
 
 Polenov through the heykole "Thanks," I 
 
 said, "I am through with the Oficerskaya Street." 
 So he went alone, trying to look younger and 
 straighter. 
 
 When he left I asked Makhalovsky to explain to 
 me what happened to the Baroness. He almost 
 fainted. 
 
 "For heavens sake! Don't shout that damned 
 name! There are ears everywhere," he whispered. 
 
 He took me by the arm and dragged me all along 
 the Morskaya, giving me short and hard kicks as 
 soon as I would open my mouth. And only when we 
 reached his room and he verified as to whether or not 
 
 143 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 the door was well shut, he said : 
 
 "Now what seems to be your question, and what 
 in hell do you know about her? Who told you that 
 something happened to her?" 
 
 As this is the time when "homo homini — lupus," 
 I said that nobody ever told me of her, but having 
 met Mikhalovsky at the Club I thought of the 
 Baroness and asked. 
 
 "Well," he said, "she was released." And Mik- 
 halovsky became sad and worried, looking humble 
 and frightened. 
 
 "I am all tangled up, friend!" he said. "I think 
 I am in mortal danger. Last Friday Kerensky asked 
 me to come to his office and said she must be freed, 
 and everything was a misunderstanding. He said 
 he had received proof; her arrest was a mistake. 
 He also said that we all must be careful about our 
 arrests, "from the left, as well as from the right." 
 
 "Did the British Embassy intervene?" — "Not at 
 all (it seems though they never had beared of it)." 
 
 — "and here," he continued, "we received a letter 
 signed by Executive Committee, Department fo Poli- 
 tical Research, saying that unless the whole dossier of 
 the Baroness B. was burned, the undersigned of the 
 message reserved the privilege of knowing how to 
 deal with it. Misha was so disgusted with the letter 
 that he went to see Kerensky, and explained that a 
 body of doubtful prerogatives and no official stand- 
 ing had no right to insult an official institution by 
 threats. Kerensky read the letter, studied the 
 attached signatures and said ' 'that he would not pay 
 
 144 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 any particular attention to the letter, that there was 
 decidedly no reason to think that the authority of 
 the Department was offended, or held in contempt." 
 He took the letter from Misha saying that "as I see 
 it affects you too much, I will make a private and 
 personal investigation and let you know when I get 
 some results." 
 
 ' 'Now, " ' Mikhalovsky continued, lowering his voice, 
 "Misha has disappeared. He is not in the office. 
 He has never come home since the morning he told 
 me all of that. When I asked his chief whether he 
 knew anything about Misha — I got an answer that 
 he was looking for him all over the city and could 
 find neither Misha nor a dossier which he needs more 
 than Misha himself! I feel, — I know, Misha is dead. 
 And surely, all that in connection .... 
 
 "Look here, Boris Platonovich," I said, "You 
 must not feel so terribly depressed about that story. 
 Nothing happened to Misha . . . ." and I con- 
 tinued in that tone of consolation, though I knew 
 how weak the words sounded. 
 
 Mikhalovsky shook his head. "Anyhow I won't 
 let it pass so easily. I'll try to know, and I'll try to 
 clear it out . . . ." 
 
 I left him with his head down on his hands, in an 
 agony of sorrow for Misha, and in an agony of fears 
 for his own sake. 
 
 At about twenty to eight I entered the restaurant, 
 having decided to keep silent, to give no chance to 
 the man to understand me not only by questions, but 
 even by the association of ideas: I decided to be 
 
 145 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 like stone. He was talking to a chap in the hall, a 
 tall, pimply young man of twenty-five, in the 
 French style of blue khaki and with aviation insignia 
 on his sleeve. Frank left his friend and we both 
 went to the dining room. 
 
 When we were through with our soup, Frank said : 
 
 "I have touched today upon the case of the Baron- 
 ess. In fact you know the story from many sources, 
 
 especially from Mikholavsky Please, please !" 
 
 he exclaimed, when I made a movement of protest, — 
 ' 'don't. So, if you are apt in making logical decisions 
 and conclusions, you are in a position to understand 
 all. Don't try to destroy anything by going around 
 with your personal impressions, for it really would 
 be bad. Just look!" 
 
 The telegram he showed me read: "Michael 
 Mikhalovsky's body found on the track near Vyborg 
 station four in the morning suicide presumed." 
 "There is no need for explanations," he said, in 
 putting the message back in his pocket, "nor sorrow — 
 all is over. But it would be an excellent idea to 
 appreciate this mere fact properly, don't you think 
 so?" 
 
 "So," continued Frank, "to come closer to our 
 own affairs, I must say that a young and charming 
 lady is leaving for Stockholm on a special mission — 
 I know not exactly what it is — and I must give her 
 some information, some of which could be furnished 
 by you. Before I ask you for this little information, 
 however, I must clearly apprehend one thing : do you 
 feel sufficiently interested in anything closely con- 
 
 146 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 nected with the old regime? And if so, — how deep 
 is your interest? You understand?" 
 
 "I understand," I said, after a second of thinking. 
 "I also get your threat. Now — my answer will be 
 clearer than your insinuations, as I fear nothing that 
 I cannot see (what a liar I am!) 
 
 Then I assumed my best poker face and calmly 
 continued : 
 
 "I don't know, and do not care to know, what you 
 are after, Frank. Personally — I cannot find any- 
 thing in the old regime that I would regret to any 
 important extent. On the other hand — I honestly 
 do not see anything attractive, or particularly ele- 
 gant, about the new regime. Practically there is no 
 regime whatsoever in this present concoction of ku- 
 vaka and elevated ideas. So, finally, damn it all! 
 I would be grateful to a friend who would advise me 
 how to get out of any activity, and of course, would 
 not consider any suggestion leading me into it. My 
 decision is plain. I resign. Then I realize all I can 
 and disappear from this rich field of political life. 
 That's all, Frank." 
 
 He looked at me. He was very grave. And then 
 suddenly his face changed and he again became the 
 chap that amused Maroossia and myself in Marien- 
 bad a few years ago. 
 
 "So I feel, old man, exactly so," he laughed, — 
 "aren't all of them the rottenest types one ever saw? 
 Trash, my dear sir, trash. And I greet your decision. 
 
 The tension which I felt at the beginning of the 
 dinner disappeared completely, and we began to talk 
 
 147 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 about different things, remembering the time when 
 we met, and recollecting our mutual impressions of 
 1912-1913, when things and people seemed to be so 
 very different. I could not help, however, asking 
 Frank at the end of our dinner : 
 
 "Are there any especial reasons to try and be 
 foxy with me, or any reasons to frighten me with 
 mysteries?" 
 
 He answered : . . . . 
 
 (several lines scratched out) 
 
 .... "no such things as mysteries. This is the 
 commonest of all planets and everything is plain and 
 entirely within the old three dimensions. Some very 
 cautious persons do not see the matter clearly — or 
 perhaps they are too stubborn to see it right, — and 
 it makes them suspicious You'll kindly for- 
 give me," he added, "if I'll have to be going?" . . . . 
 
 After his departure — it was only about 9:30, as I 
 had nothing to do, I went to the New Club. No 
 Misha there. I saw Boris Vlad. drunk as a sailor in 
 company with three or four other rascals ; I think the 
 short one was the man from the Red Cross. In the 
 card room — a gloomy game of bridge, no word said 
 unless for a real mistake 
 
 So I came home and looked out of the window onto 
 the deserted and neglected streets of my Northern 
 Palmira 
 
 148 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 12. 
 
 /lillions of those who fell for their countries in 
 rope and Asia paved the way for a general de- 
 ciation of life ; human existence has no more value. 
 • years they were killing people on the battle fields. 
 
 is justified They were killing lately, in 
 
 ssia, officers (for the reason that they were such.) 
 ;an be understood : the crazy mob is not responsi- 
 But what can one think of murders? For 
 sons unknown to the murdered, and perhaps to 
 murderers. Here are the results of three years 
 var, the results of three hundred years of slavery, 
 vlaroossia read the news of Mikhalovsky's acci- 
 it in the papers in Tula, and came yesterday. 
 Nothing could stop me," she said, crying bitterly, 
 1 leaning on me so that I would not be too angry, 
 earest, everything is so strange! Misha's death, 
 1 Boris Platonovich's death ! . . . . Please, let us 
 away somewhere, I cannot think of you, here 
 le. . . ." 
 
 told her that I had made arrangements to resign, 
 1 why it could not be done yet. "Then," I said, 
 ; will go to Gurzoof, where our house is rotting 
 hout care". I succeeded in calming the poor girl, 
 laining with all of the elequence that I had, that 
 sha's suicide and Mikhalovsky's accident in the 
 had nothing in common, and that both deaths 
 e not to be put in the same angle of view. 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Later she showed me a postal card from Misha, 
 from Vyborg. He did not sign it, but his character- 
 istic handwriting spoke only too clearly. "Wanted 
 to send you some fruit," he wrote, "but here there is 
 no fruit, so you'll have to get some yourself from the 
 South." 
 
 "Poor Misha, there was something strange about 
 him before he killed himself," she said. "I never 
 asked him for any fruit. He was very nervous, the 
 poor boy, I see it ! And to think that almost in his 
 last hour he thought of us ! . . . ." 
 
 Fruit from the south .... I see Misha's dead 
 hand pointing to us the way out of Petrograd. It is 
 a warning, a cipher warning from the other side of 
 the grave; one more inducement to leave this filthy 
 place. 
 
 13. 
 
 I again hear that something is growing amongst 
 the bolsheviki. There are indications that if every- 
 thing passes well for them — Kerensky will join the 
 movement, passing from the left social revolutionary 
 party to the commune. Both parties deal with 
 internationalism, and finally the only difference is 
 that the bolsheviki act more energetically. 
 
 The country will then become an ideal state: 
 
 150 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 people would not know any laws, would not pay 
 taxes, would not marry, or sell or buy .... Fine! 
 About the last, however, I have my doubts. There 
 will be always somebody to be bought in Petrograd. 
 It is in the climate, I guess. 
 
 The Allies! Our Allies who were ready to fight 
 
 Germany to the last Russian soldier Do they 
 
 understand that the fraternization at the present 
 time is so intense, that pretty soon the boches will 
 get the foodstuffs from the very hands of their 
 Russian camrades ? They must know that at present 
 there are only few men to be hanged. The war will 
 be won in a month. Tomorrow their number will 
 be so big, that not enough hangmen could be found 
 in the world to clean up Russia, — unless some 
 Powers wish to see Russia amputated. This looks 
 probable. 
 
 Today saw the British Major. He expressed his 
 condolence for our grief. I received the impression 
 (or perhaps I am getting too nervous and suspicious?) 
 that he knows more than I. 
 
 14. 
 
 Quite unexpectedly the Baroness B. came today 
 to the office. At first I did not want to see her, but 
 then thought that it would be better not to make 
 
 151 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 these dangerous people angry, as heaven knows what 
 they are liable to do if irritated, and besides — ^she is 
 so fascinating. So she was shown in. She was 
 veiled as much as only she could be, for mystery and 
 to conceal the slight and ingenious coat of rouge, I 
 guess. The usual feathers, rings and perfumes ; and 
 I had thought that I would see an ascetic face tired 
 out by seclusion! She said that she had nothing 
 serious to tell me, but had just run in to say goodbye 
 and calm me ; she was not going to call on Maroossia : 
 "too busy and other reasons." 
 
 "I appreciate your other reasons," I said. "You 
 have already shown what a friend you are. Why 
 did you drag Maroossia into your business? You 
 probably are well protected against any disagreeable 
 event, but we are not. So next time please, use 
 your other reasons. ..." 
 
 "There was no dragging your wife into my busi- 
 ness. The package of laces she took to Madame 
 van der Hiichts is not a crime. Besides everything 
 is over; so, as if nothing had happened." 
 
 "Yes, it probably is nothing. Misha would be of 
 a different opinion, I am sure." 
 
 "No, he would not." 
 
 There was a silence for a while, and then she said, 
 sighing: {line illegible. . . . "For instance, we want- 
 ed to give you the whole outline inviting you to do 
 something for your country — and you refused to 
 help." 
 
 "Baroness," I said, "honestly and truly I don't 
 understand these speculations. Just as honestly 
 
 152 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 and just as truly I don't care for them, no matter 
 what they are for. I hate this manner of operation. 
 The manner! I hate plots. I hate underground 
 work, and the only thing I care for — is my own 
 comfort and my own affairs." 
 
 "You don't know what you are talking about," 
 she said, "or the atmosphere has made you so clever, 
 that I don't know whether you are trying to get 
 something out of me or not. Very well, I am con- 
 spiring. I am now with these people, with whom 
 I would not have thought of being — only three 
 months ago. As soon as I succeed — I shall leave all 
 and become free and independent. ..." 
 
 Then she corrected herself; "I don't mean to say, 
 of course, I am not independent now, but. . . . 
 What time is it,?" 
 
 I told her. 
 
 "Thank you. So you see .... What were we 
 talking about? .... Ah, yes, indeed, — ^how silly 
 of me! Well so I am in a big game. It may seem 
 that I am in the wrong. But think of the time 
 when there will be a moment, when just a few persons, 
 maybe only one person, will be able to appear again 
 on the stage and become the nucleus of regeneration? 
 And if I am wrong — and such moment will never 
 come — it is so easy to get rid of those whom many 
 persons are trying to preserve. ..." 
 
 "Yes," I said, smiling at her enthusiasm and inno- 
 cent cynicism. 
 
 "Please omit your insinuations and sarcasm, you 
 bad thing. I only see you are not patriotic, or you 
 
 153 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 have something personal against me." 
 
 "You can judge better than others on this last 
 point. It looks to me as though you were wrong 
 about the rest, however. . . . 
 
 (a page torn out) 
 .... I saw Tatiana (don't ask me questions, if 
 you please!) and the girl said that there are only 
 two acceptable ways : to be released by the will of the 
 people, or taken against their will, a kidnapping 
 staged. Other methods will meet with a refusal. 
 That is why the Emperor refused a formal foreign 
 intervention, for it would place them in a position 
 of parasites with the "ex" title. After everything 
 is through — all of your Kerenskys — a parasite could 
 
 not be popular and desirable Well, she got 
 
 up, — "goodby! Kiss Maroossia for me. And here 
 is a friendly warning : don't talk. It is dangerous. 
 Don't trust. It is silly. Write to Sophie's house in 
 Paris — it will reach me. So sorry we cannot be to- 
 gether!" 
 
 She left me. 
 
 15. 
 
 Saw a real picture of the time: General S-sky 
 in the Renault with Joffe ! Smiles and hand-shakes. 
 Red arm-bands. The tall Dolivo-Dobrovolsky from 
 
 154 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 the Foreign Office was with this couple. In January, 
 when S-sky got his car he said: "I'd rather sell the 
 car than let a Jew ride in it," when Gunzburg asked 
 to use the automobile. 
 
 Madame D's apartment was robbed. Nobody 
 knows "how it happened." The house guard keeps 
 silent on the subject. Paul sent her a wire to Kursk, 
 very laconic: "home emptied everything stolen." 
 Now he received a reply: "Sublet unfurnished." 
 She is a darling. Never saw such energy. I wonder 
 whether she is trying to get the Emperor out too ? . . 
 
 16. 
 
 My interview with his Excellency is worthy of 
 description. Since my graduation from the Lyceum 
 up to the present time — I have seen many men of 
 power ; when young — they usually knocked me down 
 by their aureole of magnificence ; with age I learned 
 how to distinguish almost unmistakably in the 
 splendor of that scenery an idiot from a crook. 
 This one — was quite peculiar. 
 
 Kerensky made me wait for about one hour during 
 which I had enough time to ascertain that since the 
 new regime the rooms had not been dusted. So what 
 Kerensky said to some foreigner: "Regenerated 
 Russia will not have recourse to the shameful 
 
 155 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 methods utilized by the old regime" — were untruth- 
 ful words. The dust evidently was old regime's. 
 
 At the end of the hour (it was enough for Keren- 
 sky !) I decided to go home and mail the resignation. 
 When I got up, however, one of his men (the young 
 rascal was watching me, I am sure) entered and 
 asked me to step in. The staging of the reception 
 was prearranged and intended to impress the visitor ; 
 on the desk of the Minister I saw maps and charts, 
 specimens of tobacco for the soldiers, designs of the 
 new scenery for the Mariinsky Theatre, models of 
 American shells, foreign newspapers, barbed wire 
 scissors, etc., etc., just to show the newcomer the 
 immense range of His Excellency's occupations and 
 duties. When I stepped in, Kerensky looked at me, 
 posing as being exceedingly fatigued in caring for the 
 benefit of others. He almost suffered! He never 
 looked to me so exotic as at this moment : the Palace — 
 and, at the same time the perspiring forehead, the 
 dirty military outfit. The magnificence of power, — 
 and the yellowish collar, badly shined boots. He 
 was glad of the impression produced on me, as I 
 registered disgust, — he, with his usual knowledge of 
 men, thought it worship. "Look how we, new 
 Russians, are working" — shouted his whole appear- 
 ance, "look, you pig, and compare with what you 
 have been doing!" 
 
 "Alexander Fedorovich," I said approaching him, 
 "I thought I had to bring my resignation personally. 
 You'll find the reasons as "family circumstances," — 
 and I gave him the paper. 
 
 156 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 He rose. With one hand on the buttons of his 
 uniform and the other on the desk, he believed him- 
 self to look like Napoleon. Like Napoleon he 
 looked straight into my eyes. But his weak and 
 thin fingers were always moving like a small octopus- 
 Napoleon's were stronger. 
 
 "May I ask you the real cause of your resig- 
 nation?" he said, vainly forcing his high-pitched voice 
 lower. 
 
 "If you care to know it," I said calmly, — "It is 
 disgust" 
 
 Napoleon faded away from his face, and before 
 me was again Monsieur Kerensky, a little lawyer 
 with whom I had once made a trip from Moscow to 
 Petrograd. A little lawyer who tried to please me 
 and looked for my sympathy. 
 
 "That's the appreciation of our work! .... 
 Poor Russia ! She is deserted ! Here I am all alone 
 to carry this burden" — and Kerensky showed with 
 a circular movement of disorder on his desk, — "But 
 you," he continued, after a pause, — "you! Why 
 should you be disgusted, and why should you leave 
 us at this strenuous moment? Don't you see that 
 the building up of the state needs the full co-operation 
 of every element of Russia, — the new ones, as well 
 as the old?" 
 
 I said that I did not think I was more of an old 
 element than he, but repeated my categoric decision. 
 
 As if wounded right in the heart, with a theatrical 
 sigh, Kerensky looked out of the window, then 
 smiled bitterly, and took the paper from me. 
 
 157 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 "I grant you your request. I know what dis- 
 gusted you, — and, and — I understand. I hope you 
 will not regret this step." 
 
 He sat down thus politely indicating the end of the 
 audience. Here, on his desk, I noticed one of the 
 last numbers of the "L' Illustration" with a large 
 picture of himself on it, which he was studying while 
 I was waiting for his interview. 
 
 How easy I feel! Left to my own affairs, to my 
 own business, all to my very own self! Thank 
 God! I never felt this way before. 
 
 And our national Tartarin of Tarrascon — at his 
 desk in the palace, with his people, always meeting 
 polite and covetous eyes, — will continue his hard 
 work. Under every smile and every bow, he will 
 see — ^up to the grave, the veiled appreciation: "By 
 God, what a small thing you are." On the pages of 
 history his name will forever remain and look like 
 the trace of a malicious and sick fly. 
 
 17. 
 
 How glad I am that Maroossia went away! I 
 feel more at ease though the housekeeping is up to me. 
 
 There was more shooting and more of revolution, 
 than heretofore, during all of these days, — one more 
 evidence that the building of the new state is in full 
 
 158 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 progress. Of course, — these days brought Kerensky 
 as high up as he only can go. Next will be his pre- 
 cipitated downfall, — much speedier than his elevation. 
 Why do the Allies make this mistake of letting a 
 worm like Kerensky endanger the cause — it is a 
 mystery .... though "there are no mysteries in 
 this plainest of planets." 
 
 Nahkamkes and Trotzky — found! and in jail, for 
 the moment being, — perhaps like the Baroness, or 
 even easier! But the man, the real German hound 
 of Petrograd, Monsieur Ulianov-Lenin, — could not 
 be found. Could not be found is true. He has not 
 been looked for, as any ass knows where he is. They 
 send him meals from Felicien, or Ernest. 
 
 Away from here ! I must be going as soon as I get 
 the things straightened. 
 
 Have wired to Maroossia that I am still alive, 
 otherwise she is liable to appear again. Elisabeth 
 wrote a letter from Moscow and said that "here — 
 everybody is well and things look satisfactory. 
 Food supplies in abundance. All active in building 
 up the state." Is she sick? Who is building the 
 state? We destroy. 
 
 They speak of putting the Emperor in jail, — the 
 St. Peter and Paul Fortress. On the other hand 
 Polenov was told that Kerensky won't tolerate any 
 abuse to "private citizens." How about other 
 private citizens ? 
 
 159 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 18. 
 
 So finally they all lost. 
 
 The Emperor was taken away, — and both Mik- 
 halovskys died for nothing, just looking for the plot- 
 ters, I think, or, perhaps, they were plotting them- 
 selves ? 
 
 Mr. Kerensky did not dare to do it himself 
 personally, as he used to say it repeatedly in Tsars- 
 koye. No! Lies usually led him to other things: 
 to give to the Family a "detachment of special 
 destination" under Col. Kobylinsky (a fine man, — 
 Emperor's A. D. C. during the Empire, and his 
 jailer during the Republic!) and Monsieur Makarov, 
 under whose command they all left for Tobolsk. 
 I had to buy a map. Sorry to ascertain it, but I 
 have always mixed up Tomsk, Tobolsk and Yakutsk. 
 Which was which was a puzzle to me. We Russians 
 must be proud of our perfect ignorance of Siberia. 
 
 Monsieur Makarov? Nobody knew him, but, of 
 course, Polenov. "Oh," he said, when I told him 
 the news, "Makarov. A man who looks like Tur- 
 guenev, smells of French perfumes, speaks of the 
 arts and is a contractor!? .... "Of course I know 
 of him. He is from the "Brussov and Makarov Con- 
 tracting Company" — the rascal! Kerensky knew 
 him long ago, I am sure. The first thing when he 
 got powerful he appointed Makarov as something 
 in the Ministry of Beaux-Arts!" 
 
 160 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 From what I learned afterwards from Admiral and 
 B-tov, all of "the rats of Tsarskoye" ran away. 
 Only a few remained with the family: Botkin, — 
 Capt. Melnik, Countess G. and her governess, M-e 
 Sch., and Gillard. That's about all I guess that I 
 know of — ^maybe some will join them afterwards. I 
 am so sorry I had to go to Tula when they took the 
 Family. I'd have gone to watch the departure with 
 the Admiral. 
 
 Petrograd simply died. The city does not reflect 
 a thing. All seem to be satisfied with mere existence, 
 and to have lost interest in the rest of the world. 
 They look animated when it comes time to converse 
 
 of food and clothes Funny, strange, weird 
 
 city ! They don't clean the streets any more 
 
 and everybody finds it natural. There is nothing 
 in the stores — and we feel perfectly at ease. The 
 country is being maliciously run down — and all re- 
 peat that fiction of building up. 
 
 Perhaps the only place that has not changed since 
 its foundation is the Club. The same old grouches 
 are there, on the same sized seats, with the same 
 expressions of old indigestion and fresh gossip. Boys 
 keep up! The revolution will probably bring the 
 sacred card games onto the streets. Your progressive 
 institution must preserve the classic rules for the 
 next generations. 
 
 People now are divided into two distinct camps: 
 those of today, and those of yesterday. The former — 
 cover their disgust under a smile of opportunism; 
 my kin and kind — don't. We hate each other, and 
 
 161 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 envy each other, — as we cannot see which way things 
 
 will turn We will be united only if the ones 
 
 of to-morrow, — the commune, the third class of 
 people happen to take into their hands the war 
 machinery. Then we both will be crushed, anni- 
 hilated, forgotten. It is coming. . . . 
 
 162 
 
II. TUMEN 
 
II. TUMEN 
 
 19 
 
 Only five months ago — I had a wife, income, good 
 food Only five months ago — I had a country. 
 
 The mean and envious beast that lived in our 
 midst, — as it lives in every other country, — ^unseen, 
 but felt, and always ready to crush the acquirements 
 of existing civilization, — the mob came out from the 
 underground world; criminal hands let the mob on 
 the streets. Weak and shaky fingers unlocked the 
 trap; a magnificent gesture of an ignorant Don 
 Quixote invited the spies, the thieves, the murderers 
 "to make the New Russia." 
 
 I see foreign faces around me; I hear foreign ac- 
 cents in every line of each new edict; I listen to the 
 strange names of our new governors. 
 
 The Mob is in power; and the friendly faces of 
 our Allies became dry and cold 
 
 Looking backward — I try to find out whether 
 there was a mistake of my own, or my own crime, for 
 which some unknown and heartless Judge is now so 
 severely punishing me? 
 
 Here I am, a graduate of the two best institutions 
 in Russia and Germany, a man with five generations 
 behind me, — all thoroughbred, all civilized, all 
 gentlemen. Here I am in disguise — as apparently 
 thousands and thousands of other Russians are, just 
 as bearded as they, just as dirty, just as hungry, just 
 
 164 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 as alone in the world. 
 
 My name is now Alexei Petrovich Syvorotka, 
 formerly non-commissioned officer, 7th of Hussars, 
 born in the province of Kursk. I dress in an old 
 military overcoat, have a badly broken shoulder 
 blade (second degree injury at Stanislau), and as my 
 documents say — have been evacuated to Tumen, 
 where I am supposed to receive my soldier's ration. 
 Syvorotka! Would you talk to a man with such a 
 name? 
 
 This Syvorotka, a humble creature — a shadow of 
 yesterday — has only one thing of which he cannot be 
 robbed, his only consolation: the sorrow which he 
 wears deep under his uniform jealously concealed 
 from the rest of the world. 
 
 20 
 
 My baggage — the handbag — ^was found. 
 
 Those peculiar things can happen only in the 
 present Russia. She is like a good make of automo- 
 bile after a wreck. Everything seems to be crushed 
 and broken — ^machinery, wheels, glass, body. . . . 
 Still some parts are strong enough to keep moving. 
 So miraculously there moved a part, which brought 
 my handbag here from Moscow, — the very first ray 
 of sun in my existence for a long time. 
 
 165 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 I came to the depot this morning — I had been 
 coming every day since Schmelin gave me the bag- 
 gage check — and saw a few men unloading a baggage 
 coach. I approached them. 
 
 "Hello," I said to a tartar whose abominable face 
 was covered with pock marks, (nowadays one must 
 always address the most hostile looking person in a 
 crowd, never the most sympathetic, for one should 
 not show any weakness to the mob), "any work" ? 
 
 "Hello, — ^yourself," the tartar answered grouchily 
 and without looking at me, "there is. Don't let them 
 skin you. Ask fifty rubles, understand?" 
 
 "Is that so?" I said, spitting through my front 
 teeth onto a sidewalk covered with gleaming white 
 snow, "not me, damn them! Whose baggage?" 
 
 They did not answer — in their language it meant 
 'don't know, don't care, and go to hell !' 
 
 On the coach I saw "Moscow Special" written with 
 white stone and I decided to take one more chance 
 and ask for my handbag, presenting my luggage 
 check. 
 
 "It came at last," said the man in charge of the 
 luggage depot, "thank God I won't see your muzzle 
 any more. What's in it?" 
 
 "Since when has it been your business, your 
 burjooi honor?" I said, "You did not pay me for 
 buying my belongings, so better keep your trap shut !" 
 
 I took the dear old bag — it was Maroosia's before, 
 and came home. What did Mile. Goroshkin put in 
 the bag in Moscow? I opened the rusty lock — and 
 found my silver toilet kit, razors, "La Question du 
 
 166 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Maroc," on which the shaving soap had made a big 
 yellow spot, Laferme cigarettes, some linen (the thing 
 I need the most), night slippers, rrtanicuring box, and 
 poor Maroossia's fan, — she wired me to take it to 
 Gurzoof in the last telegram I ever got from her. 
 The fan was fragrant with her perfume on it ; so I 
 shed a few tears. On the inside of the bag was 
 written "All well, write often," and on the bottom 
 of the bag — was this book of my notes. I had de- 
 cided to sell the silver kit and the fan and get some 
 money as I was very short of it. Both the fan and 
 the silver outfit looked so inharmonious in my little 
 room with a small window on a triste court with a 
 yard full of blindingly white snow. 
 
 21 
 
 Here is what brought me here : 
 
 I could not leave Petrograd on time on account of 
 the house. Nobody wanted it for 800,000. I waited 
 and waited — day after day, week after week. Many 
 and many were giving me advice to leave and were 
 warning me, but I would not listen. When the wire 
 came that poor Maroossia was killed, — I lost interest 
 in life completely. So I was living in Petrograd, 
 until the clash for the Assembly. Then, — perhaps 
 my nerves needed a good shaking up,-r-I became 
 
 167 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 active again. I went to the Volga Kama for my 
 money, — the were already closed and gave me 150 
 rubles, and allowed me to take another 1 50 in a week. 
 I went to the Volkov's. The clerk said that I had 
 no right to withdraw more than 150. I knew the 
 man from Moscow well, and he recognized me from 
 the time that I was coming to Bros. Djamgarov 
 Bank. He was really kind, and said that he could 
 at once arrange that I should receive 80% of my 
 money and the contents in the safe, out of which 10% 
 should be paid to some mysterious commissary. 
 "I advise you to take it. The appetites are growing, 
 and perhaps to-morrow it will be more, — 50% or 
 60%." I wrote out some kind of understanding, by 
 which I sold my rights on the 10th of October to a 
 certain Kagajitsky. That was all fake, as my ar- 
 rangement was made about the 23 rd of November, 
 I guess. 
 
 My ticket, for which they asked me 12,000 rubles, 
 was obtained through the cook's sweetheart, and I 
 left Petrograd on the 6th for Moscow on the usual 
 12:30, and arrived uneventfully at the depot in 
 Moscow next morning at about 10:30. 
 
 On the stairs of the Nikolaevsky depot I stopped. 
 Where was I going? In fact I had never thought 
 of it. I had no place, no destination, no desires — 
 nothing. Perhaps only one desire, to avenge myself 
 and all of us. 
 
 So I hesitated, for in Moscow they had been shoot- 
 ing right and left for the past week, persecuting the 
 burjoois and ofificers. I had never felt so helpless and 
 
 168 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 so unnecessary to myself and to others as on this 
 snowy morning in Moscow. Besides, all of the way 
 from Petrograd to Moscow I had had a hideous 
 headache and chills, and I was in a fog of indifference. 
 
 "Good morning, sir," said an astonishingly polite 
 voice behind me, "I congratulate you upon a safe 
 arrival." 
 
 I turned around and saw a man of rather short 
 stature, cleanly shaven, and politely smiling with 
 the whole width of his mouth. 
 
 "Good morning," I said, "I cannot place you, but 
 you seem familiar to me, I am sure." 
 
 "That's due to my former occupation, your Excel- 
 lency. I am Goroshkin, the usher from the Ekater- 
 inensky Theatre. So sorry to apprehend of your 
 sorrow. Sir, in connection with her Excellency's 
 death." 
 
 This man, Goroshkin, was a real friend to me, al- 
 though I hardly recollected him. We never used to 
 pay much attention to the ushers ! 
 
 There was no use in trying to go to a hotel with my 
 appearance of a gentleman and my pockets filled 
 with money; my fever and my indifference were 
 growing; I had no desire to do anything for myself. 
 I think that Goroshkin understood me and the state 
 of my mind when he said, "May I venture to offer 
 Your Excellency my humble house, and perhaps call 
 a doctor?" 
 
 This is as much as I remember of the next fort- 
 night. I had a terrible attack of typhus, — and when 
 communists were killing the boys from the military 
 
 169 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 school, bombarding the Hotel National, destroying 
 the Kremlin and pillaging private homes, I was 
 quietly lying in a little house somewhere behind 
 Sukharev Tower under the care of a doctor and 
 Goroshkin's fat sister, whose conspicuous parts of 
 the corsage were soiled from cooking, and whose face 
 was always red and radiant. My return to life, and 
 with it my return to the desire for activity and eating, 
 was commemorated by the appearance at my bed of 
 nobody else but Marchenko. 
 
 One bright morning, when my room seemed to be 
 full of sunshine and hope, — a man in the uniform of a 
 communist soldier with a red rag on his coat sleeve, 
 walked into the room bringing in a breath of fresh 
 and frosty air and a whole arsenal of munitions. 
 I did not recognize him at first, a little pointed beard 
 and heavy boots had transformed him into a regular 
 "tovarishch." 
 
 "Hello," he said, "glad to know you're alive." 
 
 "Yes," I answered, "I am about the only one whom 
 they have not happened to exterminate, but it is 
 coming"! 
 
 Marchenko smiled. "You should not stay here 
 for very long," he said, "It is getting dangerous and 
 raids are being planned to finish with the burjoois 
 who are hiding in the outskirts of Moscow." 
 
 "Don't think," he went on, "that I am honestly 
 with the communists. My task is the same and if 
 we failed to do something before, — now we know we 
 will be successful. Kerensky is out of the life, living 
 evidently under the friendly protection of Lenine; 
 
 170 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 I think Lenine was the only man that he did not 
 attempt to double cross." 
 
 "Now," he continued, "let us speak of you. I 
 think that you must understand that the little 
 services that were asked of you some months ago 
 would have prevented many, many disagreeable 
 events. Behind you, you can see only said memories 
 and mourning, — before you, the very dark existence 
 of a man in hiding. If you will join us, I could 
 guarantee you a more or less protected life, — of 
 course you will have to care for your own self, too." 
 
 ' 'Please your Excellency, ' ' said the voice of Gorosh- 
 kin behind me, "don't refuse this time. If your 
 esteemed father could have known the circumstances, 
 he would have consented, and he was a strict man. 
 I recollect that His Excellency would not deign to 
 wait a second for his overcoat." 
 
 "Very well, I accept," I said to Marchenko, "but 
 I must say to you that it is not for the protection you 
 promise me. I do not care much for my life, but I 
 would like to preserve it. Not to die right now, but 
 hold it until the moment when I could avenge myself. 
 And that's my personal aim. As for your plan — it 
 suits me — for it is a measure not of Russia's good — 
 but a weapon against our present enemy — the Red 
 Flag. And, I may add that in me you will find a 
 disciplined man." 
 
 Goroshkin disappeared and came back with a 
 bottle of Abrau-Dur^ot, with which we celebrated 
 my consent. 
 
 Indeed I had nothing further to think about. My 
 
 171 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 task was to go to Tumen in disguise, meet some 
 people there, . and through Goroshkin communicate 
 with Marchenko. 
 
 My instructions included .... 
 (a few pages torn sut) 
 
 22 
 
 Goroshkin brought me a passport of Mr. Syvorot- 
 ka, with my description and my particular marks 
 (broken shoulder), documents and uniform, and gave 
 me a few names in Tumen which I had to remember 
 and to whom on behalf of Mr. Andrei Andreivich 
 Vysotsky I should address myself. 
 
 "Your Excellency understands that nobody as- 
 sumes any responsibility for your safety. You just 
 must be in touch with the people," he said, "and be 
 ready for what you were told to do, as we must have 
 a man in Tumen. If I may suggest, you should not 
 speak or act like a gentleman." 
 
 I decided to joke a bit with Goroshkin : "Go to hell, 
 you old fool," I said, "you damned plotter," and then 
 I kicked a chair. 
 
 To my great astonishment not a muscle twitched 
 in Goroshkin's face. 
 
 "Not bad, not bad," he said calmly, "but even 
 your slang is a gentleman's. Your Excellency 
 
 172 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 should imagine having been born a swine. That's the 
 point. I should recommend more of silence, and if 
 you happen to speak, — a brief articulation, roughly 
 conceived and expressed. Don't bother at all with 
 the person you are addressing." 
 
 The old man amused me very much that evening. 
 I let him sit down and he told me episodes of his life 
 for about a couple of hours. For thirty years he had 
 been present at every performance in his theatre and 
 he knew the world better than I did, only by watch- 
 ing the artists. 
 
 January the tenth in the early morning at about 
 six o'clock the fat Mile. Goroshkin entered my room 
 clad only in a nightgown. That was the only time 
 I saw her pale and sordid, but she was just as un- 
 interesting as ever. "Quick! Get up," she said, "they 
 are searching. Brother has already left, and he said 
 you must dress and get your documents and run out. 
 Go to Tumen, I'll send your effects there." 
 
 "They" was enough for me. I was all ready in two 
 minutes, put all of my money and jewelry in my hip 
 pockets, assumed the aspect of a wounded soldier 
 and walked out. I barely reached Miasnitskaya 
 Street before an armored car full of working men and 
 soldiers passed by at about fifty miles an hour. Half 
 a dozen bad faces looked at me. I decided to con- 
 tinue calmly on my way, but I heard the car coming 
 back very soon sounding its siren. It stopped near 
 me. "Come in, cavalry man, there is a seat for one. 
 They found somebody in Yousupov's house." 
 
 I stopped and scratched my neck. "It cannot be 
 
 173 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 done, I am going to the hospital. If I am late, I 
 wbh't have the bandage changed today. Could you 
 take me to the hospital on the Devitche Pole?" 
 
 "Are you crazy?" said the man at the wheel, look- 
 ing at me with fury. "Comrades, do you think I am 
 going to drive so far for his rotten wound?" and 
 without asking for his friends' consent, he turned the 
 machine and continued on his way towards You- 
 supov's. 
 
 This was my first interview with Russia's rulers. 
 
 23 
 
 I was stopped four or five times on my way to 
 Deviche Pole. I took this route just to show those 
 that might have watched me that I really was going 
 to the hospital. Then I thought I could take a 
 street car to a station and go somewhere south, to 
 Tula, for instance, then wait there for a while and 
 afterwards reach Moscow again (they cannot keep 
 on shooting and shooting always, I reasoned) and 
 thence to Tumen. So I continued along Miasnits- 
 kaya. Near the Post Office some people approached 
 me. "Where to?" they asked, and a woman caught 
 me by the arm. I made a suffering face. "For 
 Christ's sake," I exclaimed, "don't touch me. I am 
 wounded!" They let me go and stopped a long, 
 
 174 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 young fellow in student's uniform. I saw them drag 
 the chap away regardless of his protests. ' 'Comrades ! 
 It is a mistake! I am a member of a local com- 
 mittee. . . ." he attempted to protest, — but the 
 woman said he looked like a suspicious plotter and 
 they all disappeared in a side street. Near Milut- 
 insky a man in the cap of a chauffer stopped me again 
 and asked me to follow him. "Where?" I asked, but 
 he did not reply and invited me to follow with a 
 slight and nothing-good-promising-smile. ' 'Follow !' ' 
 he said. 
 
 Near a small church, there was a hardware store 
 which we entered. About ten people were sitting 
 on the counter. Among them were three street girls, 
 if I might judge by their appearance and manners. 
 Without saying a word, they all came near me, two 
 men got me by the shoulders, two others by the legs, 
 and in one second, my pockets were emptied, my 
 diamonds went to the girls and a formidable blow on 
 the spine with the butt of a rifle threw me out onto 
 the street. "If you report," I heard a voice, — "You 
 won't be able to count your bones." 
 
 That was really too much ! AH they forgot to take 
 was a handkerchief, in which I had put some money. 
 With that I had to reach Tumen and live there! 
 
 Then I turned left and went by small streets 
 toward the depot from which I thought trains were 
 running to Tumen. Where this Tumen was 
 — I really did not realize. It should be some- 
 where east of the Ural mountains, and all I recollected 
 was that Cheliabinsk was the place to buy a ticket. 
 
 175 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Near a large school, I think it was an Armenian 
 school or something, I stopped to rest and see how 
 much money I had in the handkerchief, — ^but as soon 
 as I took the handkerchief out, a man of no pro- 
 fession came to me and asked me to help him. 
 While, likte an idiot, I tried to figure how much I 
 could give him, — he helped himself, grabbed my all 
 and ran. All I could do was to send him a few 
 greetings in mV best Russian, recollecting the sins of 
 his Mother. That relieved me, of course, but only 
 as a palliative. I sat down near a door to think over 
 my situation. Again a motor passed and again 
 someone asked me who I was. I showed this time 
 such a realistic indifference and such a display of 
 pure disgust with life, that the man at the wheel 
 inquired what was the matter. "Nothing, you 
 beasts," I replied, "but that some of your own 
 scoundrels robbed me right now." "Get after him," 
 I continued, "perhaps you can rob him in your turn." 
 I thought they would shoot me ; nothing of the kind — 
 they became almost sympathetic, and only asked 
 how the man looked and which way he had gone. 
 "Hardware store," I said, "around the comer." 
 
 24 
 
 It was Saturday night when finally our train 
 
 176 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 reached Tumen: a voyage of eleven days by rail, 
 by snow sledge, by foot, and again by rail, was at 
 an end. God! What a sojourn, what people, what 
 disorder! People full of onions, parasites, wounds, 
 dirt, misery and fear! But still, in all of their 
 misery, amiable and sympathetic, at first always 
 desirous of helping the other fellow. Saturday 
 night, and the church bells were ringing sadly, 
 desperately, as if they knew nobody would come 
 and pray. To whom? God had proved to be 
 so far away from these people. . . . 
 
 (pages missing) 
 .... The city, — and I shall continue to call it a city, 
 — was dark and dreary, and so cold that I resolved to 
 spend the night at the depot where it was warm at 
 least. I bought some hot tea and a large loaf of 
 bread at the buffet, and, as a sick and poor soldier 
 who knows his place, I sat in a corner. 
 
 There were some people in the station — mostly 
 peasants, one could easily recognize such in them; 
 quietly talking and drinking tea with dignity and 
 care and biting their sugar with the force of explosions. 
 They never put their sugar into the tea-tumblers. 
 Later a man with a disagreeable face entered the 
 room and looked around. This was not a peasant, 
 I said to myself, — he would not take off his hat. 
 The newcomer was evidently looking for me, as when 
 he noticed me, he first bought some tea and a sand- 
 wich, and then, as if there were no other place in the 
 room, picked out a seat near me. "An enemy," I 
 thought to myself and buried my face in my supper. 
 
 177 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 The man wanted to talk, but evidently felt em- 
 barrassed. 
 
 "Cold outside, isn't it?" he asked. 
 
 A foreign intonation. No accent, however. A 
 Pole or a Russian-German. 
 
 "Hm, hm, very!" 
 
 "Yes, severe climate, dog's cold. Going to stay 
 in Tumen, or plan to go further?" he asked after 
 a pause. 
 
 "Going to stay, or going further, — ^what do you 
 ask for? But if it interests you — going to stay for a 
 while. If I croak here, or somewhere else — you 
 aren't going to attend my funeral. So what's the 
 big idea?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing, nothing! You see I am a stranger 
 here and lately live practically at the depot. Am 
 looking for a man by the name of Vysotsky, so I ask 
 almost everybody for the man." 
 
 "Vysotsky?" I asked, assuming an air of astonish- 
 ment, ' "Vysotsky ?' ' (Marchenko and his crowd flashed 
 through my mind, especially in connection with my 
 mission) — "no, I dont think that I know anyone 
 by that name." 
 
 "Here, here," the man laughed, shoving me with 
 his shoulder, "lay it out, old man, you must know 
 him." 
 
 "No, Comrade" I responded. "You probably 
 take me for some one else, indeed. I am Syvorotka 
 of the 7th Hussars. We had a man by name Vysot- 
 sky, a sub-lieutenant, but I don't think it's the one 
 you are looking for: the Vysotsky I knew has been 
 
 178 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 taken prisoner, at Lvov, or at the Sziget Pass. . . . 
 yes, at Sziget Pass, of course. Vysotsky, Vysotsky, 
 what was the Christian name, perhaps that would 
 help me out?" 
 
 "You white-collared trash!" my man suddenly 
 became angry, "you can't fool me about his first 
 name. Don't be too slick. I'll tell you" (he started 
 to whisper very low and knocked on the table with 
 his finger) "they will jail you right now, if you don't 
 tell me why in the devil's name you came here. 
 Aren't you going to tell me? No? Very well, I'll 
 fix you for life, you damned Russian swine ! Hope 
 you'll choke on your tea!" 
 
 That's how he ended his friendly wishes, and left 
 me in a fury. 
 
 But when someone threatens and is in a fury there 
 is no immediate danger, I know. It is true in every 
 case of life. So I was quiet for the night. I put my 
 overcoat under my head and slept all night. 
 
 Next morning I began to work. . . . (several 
 pages missing.) 
 
 25 
 
 (First letter to M. Goroshkin) 
 "Madame L. obtained from the Princess G-n some 
 particulars. So in addition to the reports forwarded 
 
 179 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 to you through Hatzkelman, I herewith send you 
 more: 
 
 The Tsar's family arrived in Tobolsk from Tumen 
 on the S/S "Russ" September 3rd, together with 
 SS/SS "Kitai" and "Petrograd." On the last two 
 were the accompanying persons and the "Detach- 
 tachment of Special Destination," with Col. Koby- 
 linsky in command, and Mr. Makarov supervising 
 the voyage. . . . For three days the "Russ" was 
 lying near the pier, for the Governor's Mansion was 
 not yet ready for occupancy. So nobody was al- 
 lowed to go ashore. During these days crowds of 
 people were asesmbled near the piers, and though 
 in the mob there were certain evil agitators, the 
 people in general were sympathetic, understanding 
 the exile as a "dreadful plot of Ministers against the 
 Emperor. ' ' The Heir was the center of the attention 
 of the Tobolians, and his personality was not at all 
 blasphemed. 
 
 The Emperor and the Empress, with the children, 
 were finally put in the Mansion, — ^by the way its 
 name is now "The Home of Liberty," which is on 
 the main street of Tobolsk, — the Great Piatnitzkaya, 
 also renamed now into Liberty Street. 
 
 The Governor's Mansion is a three-story stone 
 house, white, with a big entrance hall from Tuliat- 
 skaya Street ; there is not any entrance from Liberty 
 Street. There is a small square place before the 
 entrance. Here they built up a fence, not very 
 high. They fixed the fence so that no one can go 
 over it, as the boards are trimmed sharp and have 
 
 180 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 nails. All the windows look onto Liberty Street. 
 On the opposite side of Liberty Street are private 
 houses. Right across the street is the house of 
 Kornilov Brothers, also a stone building; three 
 stories; and in this house are those who went with 
 the family in exile. 
 
 There are sentinels around. On Tuliatskaya Street 
 near the fence — at its ends and in the middle, — three 
 soldiers; on Liberty Street — four soldiers; two 
 soldiers near the entrance hall. 
 
 Though the entrance is fenced, one can see the 
 street from the house, also from the street one can 
 see what is going on on the stairway. 
 
 In the Kornilov House (both Kornilovs are away) 
 are living: Dr. Botkin with his son Gleb and Miss 
 Botkin ; Dr. Derevenko — a man with the same name 
 as the tutor of Alexis; Monsieur Gillard, a Swiss 
 instructor of the Hier; Captain Melnik (I heard that 
 he is going to marry M-elle Botkin); Lady-in- 
 waiting Countess G. ; M-me Schneider and several 
 others; I shall give you their names in my next 
 letter. 
 
 The Emperor and the Empress used to have 
 certain liberties ; they could even go to church. But 
 then no one was admitted there, unless they could 
 get in under the pretext of being singers in the 
 choir. Many were going,— used to go to the Anuncia- 
 tion Church. They would put soldiers all of the way 
 from the Mansion to the Church. Reports are 
 coming that these church parades are stopped and 
 a chapel is being built in the Mansion. 
 
 181 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Shortly after their arrival, Mr. Kerensky sent two 
 boxes of wine to the Tsar; the soldiers broke the 
 boxes. They do not want any "luxuries" for the 
 exiles. The Empress has no coffee — it is a luxury. 
 But otherwise the attitude is not too bad. M. 
 wrote that under the charming manners of the Tsar 
 and especially the Heir, before the Soviet rule came, 
 the soldiers very often changed their manners, their 
 revolutionary hearts were melting — and then Col. 
 Kobylinsky used to send those "soft rags" back to 
 Petrograd, for they might be counter-revolutionary. 
 
 Kobylinsky himself was trying to maintain good 
 relations with the soldiers, with Kerensky (who 
 promised him promotion) and with the family 
 through Kornilov's House, for the Emperor, like 
 everybody else in Tobolsk, despises him. The 
 Emperor has never said anything to or about Koby- 
 linsky directly, however. Once only, when Koby- 
 linsky was changing sentinels he bumped into the 
 Emperor, and the latter said: "Still a Colonel?" 
 That was really a sarcastic remark! Of course, 
 now with the Bolsheviki everything has changed and 
 the Family's position is very bad. 
 
 I am well, send me some very thick socks if you 
 happen to have an opportunity. Greetings. At- 
 tached — a map of Tobolsk. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 Al. Syv." 
 (several pages missing) 
 
 182 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 26 
 
 When I returned from the Princess, tired and 
 worried about the absence of news from Moscow 
 and about the whole "organization" so badly and 
 unsystematically managed, I found a dark figure 
 sitting on my bed. A woman was attempting to 
 light a candle. But even before I understood who 
 was on my bed, the odor of a woman, fine perfume, 
 burned hair and soap — struck me very strongly. I 
 had quite forgotten during all this time of hard- 
 ships this side and these agreeable ingredients of 
 civilized life. I took my pistol, closed the door, 
 and always sharply following the movements of the 
 dark figure, approached her, pointing the Browning. 
 She put her hands up. 
 
 When I finally saw the woman, — I almost fainted : 
 it was the Baroness B., friend or enemy, but she. 
 
 She did not recognize me at first. Then : 
 
 "For God's sake!" she muttered, as if to herself, 
 and swallowing the words, "you are Syvorotka? 
 My God, what a horror! .... How are you?" 
 
 "Madame," I said, kissing her hand, — "it cer- 
 tainly is a surprise,— I hope for both of us! How 
 can I explain your presence here? Who and what 
 brought you here?" 
 
 "It does not matter — they went away," she 
 answered. She was looking at me with wide-open 
 eyes, in which I noticed the sincerest amazement, 
 
 183 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 if not stupefaction. "Syvorotka, you! How per- 
 fectly crazy you look with this beard! If you only 
 knew!" and silvery laughter unexpectedly sounded 
 in my poor quarters — in this place of mourning and 
 sorrow — for the first time since I have come here. 
 
 "Oh, you must shave it!" 
 
 "Let my beard alone, pray," I said. "It really 
 is not the time for any personal remarks. Besides — 
 look at yourself; there is more paint on your cheeks 
 than flesh. And this wig! To tell the truth I like 
 your own hair far better. Your wig is outrageous. 
 You look like a bad girl." 
 
 "Exactly. That's what I am now. Lucie de 
 Clive, Monsieur, a vaudeville actress. That's me." 
 
 "A nice party, isn't it?" she said. "Syvorotka 
 and Lucie?" "But — tell me before everything else, 
 can I stay here?" 
 
 "Stay here? Pardon me, Baroness " 
 
 "Call me Lucie, please " 
 
 "Pardon me, Lucie, but really I don't quite com- 
 prehend. In these times, of course, everything has 
 changed; but still I wish I could understand it 
 correctly " 
 
 "Oh, yes, you will not be bad to a poor girl, Alex, 
 will you? I simply have to stay here — I have no 
 other place to go." 
 
 To show her resoluteness, she took off her shabby 
 overcoat and started to arrange her belongings, an 
 impossible suitcase and something heavy rolled in a 
 yellow and red blanket, looking to me from time to 
 time with curiosity and doubt. 
 
 184 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 "Lucie de Clive! A woman certainly could not 
 think of anything less snobbish even in these cir- 
 cumstances. You look like a real Russian Katka- 
 Chort in this outfit." 
 
 "That's what is required. How did you happen 
 to pick out your name?" 
 
 We both laughed. Indeed, if our meeting were 
 compared to all the luxury and brilliance of the Cote 
 d'Azur, or Petrograd— it was laughable. "Have 
 we anything to eat?" she asked. 
 
 "I came home for my supper," I said. "I have 
 some trash in the pantry." 
 
 While I was preparing in the so-called kitchen 
 something nice out of a picee of frozen pilmeni — 
 hashed meat and an old can of sardines (my pride) 
 she began to arrange the room. She acted as if she 
 were trying to justify her presence, it was clear. 
 But with all the pleasure of seeing someone around 
 my house, I simply could not think what had hap- 
 pened to her. Baroness B. — a lady who would not 
 hesitate in olden times to play a thousand pounds 
 on a horse or order ten dresses at Paquin's, — here, 
 asking my hospitality! If she were a Russian — I 
 could understand it, — wives of Privy Counsellors 
 and Ambassadors are selling cheese in Petrograd now. 
 But she — a Foreign Lady? .... It was clear, she 
 was in some intrigue as usual, and it had led her 
 too far. 
 
 Possibly she is after me And besides — 
 
 her very presence would affect my work, and en- 
 danger myself. "I must give her something to eat, 
 
 185 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 and then get out of here. The L; would keep me 
 for a while, and then I shall go away. Let her stay 
 in this house with all of her strange intrigues, for I 
 cannot throw her out." 
 
 Thus trying to understand, I finished my cooking 
 and asked her to the salle-a-manger — the same little 
 kitchen. 
 
 But no matter how proud I felt of my house- 
 keeping, the Baroness found fault with everything. 
 "Don't we have a table cloth? Or napkins? What 
 are these daggers for?" 
 
 "Good God, Syvorotka," she said, "we cannot live 
 in such a miserable way. I'll have to change it. 
 There are no reasons why we should revert to can- 
 nibalism!" 
 
 Talking in that manner, jumping from one sub- 
 ject to another and always very nervously, she 
 arranged the table more or less decently, and even 
 put the salt in the lid of a little powder box. "Now," 
 she said, "I want you to wash your hands, and 
 comb your hair, and brush your khaki, and . . . ." 
 until I got almost civilized. 
 
 When we were through with the meal and a half 
 of bottle of beer (they call "beer" this indecent 
 looking beverage in Tumen) I asked her what 
 brought her to Tumen? 
 
 She told me some story — of which I believed only 
 the fact that she was here, in my house, and that a 
 great embarrassment had fallen on my shoulders. 
 
 "I'm glad," I said, "you did not change at all, 
 Lucie. It is just as true — all this story of yours, — 
 
 186 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 as the one you told me in Petrograd. But I have 
 no use for reforming you. Now — take me as an 
 example of sincerity : in me, my dear lady, you see 
 now, nothing but a poor man in hiding. All for me 
 is in the past. . . . And you, — I see it — are still 
 plotting, nothing could persuade me that you and I 
 are here by mere coincidence. You come to me — 
 have time to curl your hair — and you even don't tell 
 me whether your intrigue could reveal my existence 
 to those that persecute me. You wouldn't hesitate 
 to pass over my dead body — for the sake of your 
 affairs. . . . Again, — please do not feel offended, — 
 there is another side. I am a working man. To- 
 morrow I must be at my job early in the morning. 
 The night is growing old. So, regardless of other 
 things, — what would you advise me to do now?" 
 
 "I have nothing to say," she answered sadly and 
 in a low voice, "You are the Lord here." 
 
 "What do you advise me to do?" I repeated grow- 
 ing angry. 
 
 "I'll do anything you say," she answered blushing 
 and lowering her head, "I am ready." 
 
 "Lucie," I said, "It is not a question of that. 
 You see I cannot put you out on the streets. A good 
 master would not do it to his dog. But, on the other 
 hand they have not yet built the Ritz here." 
 
 "I am not asking you to go from your house, Alex. 
 I had for a moment, — when I saw who Syvorotka 
 was — a little ray of sunshine. I see I am mistaken. 
 Could you take me to the depot, then?" 
 
 "I shall do nothing of the kind," I answered. 
 
 187 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 "Nobody warned me you might come here. I was 
 not ready. So — please stay here for to-night. I 
 have a place where I can find an abode, and to- 
 morrow we can decide what to do. There is some 
 frozen milk in the pantry and if I don't return — 
 right where you are sitting in the mattress there is 
 some money. Good night, Lucie." 
 
 "Alex, are you really going?" she asked taking me 
 by the arm, "Are you really going out just not to be 
 with me? Is it a pose? Or are you serious ? Please 
 don't do it. . . ." 
 
 "Good night," I said and went out. 
 
 27 
 
 A night in a small city of Siberia! One can see 
 only because the snow is white. No moon, no 
 electricity. . . . Where is my new Peugeot now? 
 Who is driving it now? Where is Anton? Whose 
 chauffer is he now, and is he still a chauffer, or has 
 the wheel of fortune turned and made him Com- 
 missary of Arts, or Commissary of Public Health? 
 Or, true to his master, was he hanged defending my 
 automobile? Kismet! .... 
 
 There were only two blocks to the L. — but the 
 snow was so deep and it was so windy and cold, it 
 seemed to me a good mile, till I reached the house. 
 
 188 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 It was dark as usual. As usual it seemed dead. 
 But, when I was quite close to it, I heard some 
 movement inside and I detected something in the 
 yard. This something materialized very soon into 
 a couple of evil faces and rifles with fixed bayonets. 
 Inside of the house there were muffled voices. Near 
 the rear gate (I could see it due to the sloping of the 
 lot) three horses and a snow sledge were standing. 
 A few voices were raised in dispute in the barn, 
 swearing a blue streak. "Arrest" — it was clear. 
 When I was trying to think of something to help, — 
 and what could I think of? — the double pane of the 
 bedroom window was suddenly broken by something 
 heavy thrown from the inside and a desperate pierc- 
 ing voice of Pasha — I immediately knew it was the 
 poor girl — ^shouted with all of the strength of her 
 lungs: "Help, help! In Christ's name, help. ..." 
 The cry was broken off in the middle, muffled by the 
 palm of a hand, and became a mutter of despair and 
 
 horror: "M-p-p, maa " Somebody stuffed 
 
 a white pillow in the hole. Again all became quiet. 
 
 Then the front door suddenly opened and a man 
 jumped out into the street; another, — a short fellow 
 clad in a wild Siberian overcoat, — appeared on the 
 stairs, aimed a Mauser and fired at the man's back. 
 I scarcely had time to sit down behind the fence. 
 
 Ff . . . ap . . . Ff . . . ap . . . — sounded two 
 dry, sharp shots. The first man took two more 
 steps — and rolled in the snow, feebly groaning from 
 pain. A black trickle of blood swiftly ran along the 
 snow near my knees. The Siberian overcoat looked 
 
 189 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 at his victim and with "you, damned carrion," 
 slammed the door. Again all was dark and silent. 
 
 The man was indeed dead when I reached him. 
 He had a package of something wrapped in paper — 
 so I took it, — I thought it might be something be- 
 longing to Ls. 
 
 All that was pretty bad, and I did not know how to 
 get away, — my position being really a poor one in a 
 strategic sense of the word. I had to escape without 
 attracting too much attention. When I was think- 
 ing over how to do it — a voice called : 
 
 "Bist du dort, Swartz?" 
 
 "Ja wohl!" I answered as nonchalantly as I could, 
 having covered my mouth with my glove, "soil' 
 ich noch warten?" 
 
 "We'll be through in a minute. Wait a while!" 
 
 I did not wait. Through wind and snow, crawl- 
 ing like an Indian, I passed the dangerous spot near 
 the gate where I could be seen, then hurried home, 
 almost crying for the poor Ls., and Pasha — ^such a 
 sweet girl, probably at that moment being nation- 
 alized — condemning all and everything and especially 
 the impossibility of helping my unfortunate friends. 
 All was frozen inside of me, due to the cold and this 
 fear of a helpless creature. 
 
 When 1 was about a score of yards from the house — 
 shooting started behind me — just as idiotic as in 
 Petrograd or Moscow: in every direction, bullets 
 cracking the windows, the street lamps, the passers- 
 by, — on this occasion myself, — I got a bad one in the 
 sleeve, right near the elbow. 
 
 190 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 I did not have to knock at the door as I feared 
 running home : the door flew open, and Lucie dragged 
 me in, closing the door behind me on the lever. 
 
 ' 'Oh, I am so glad you came ! Silly man ! Are you 
 wounded? No? I heard it all — I was so afraid 
 that they had shot you! I am so glad, Alex dear! 
 Do stay here, I won't be in your way, honest. 
 Please do stay! . . . ." 
 
 (pages missing) 
 
 28 
 
 (Second letter to M. Goroshkin) 
 "I must bring to your attention the fact that a 
 certain lady, whom I knew in Petrograd in other days, 
 came here quite unexpectedly, under the name of 
 Lucie de Clive. She was in the plot in June, and at 
 that time was very strongly protected by A. F. K-y, 
 who released her from jail. She is an English- 
 woman, but knows Russia well, as in fact, she knows 
 all European countries. She came here the day the 
 L's were killed and Pasha taken away. She made 
 me understand that she is in a new plot to save the 
 Emperor's family. Her task will be to stay here for 
 a while "and make some preparations" and then go 
 farther on. 
 
 I must tell you that her arrival here is of great 
 
 191 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 inconvenience to me : in a city like Tumen it became 
 known to the G-ns, and, though the Princess thinks 
 I am nothing much and her morals are not for my 
 class of people, she is a little hypocrite and pulls a 
 long face at me. 
 
 I tried my best to avoid having this lady in my 
 house ; but the president of the local soviet, who has 
 a great respect for me as Marchenko's protege, 
 allowed me a short stay for the lady; I explained to 
 him that she is my old affinity — "a civil wife." 
 Therefore, he found it a sufficient reason, but did not 
 like it much, and I am afraid his trust in me may 
 diminish. 
 
 Now things have turned out in such a manner that 
 I cannot possibly throw the lady out of my home: 
 but what I want you to do is to notify me at once 
 whether you know something about this arrival and 
 whether Lucie is working for the same purposes. 
 I don't trust her much; she feels it, and plays a 
 strange game with me, the part of an enamored 
 woman. This does not interfere with her writing 
 (and receiving) some correspondence. She takes 
 the letters out when I am busy, so I cannot trail her. 
 I'd rather go away from here, leaving her; I would 
 not care much to be obliged to watch her. There are 
 certain ethics which would prevent me from liking to 
 trail this particular lady. 
 
 I was greatly surprised when I heard that Mr. 
 Kerensky was living in the Rossia Insurance Com- 
 pany Apartments, Pushkarskaya 59, Flat 10. If so, 
 why this game of the Smolny crowd ? Why not take 
 
 192 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 him? The man of whom I wrote you in my last 
 letter states that K-y is now planning to go to 
 Stockholm and that a passport will be given to him 
 by the Smolny Institute. Please communicate that 
 to Marchenko. Schmelin says it is not his business. 
 The ring was taken from K-y. Nothing new in 
 Tobolsk. The Empress has been sick for the last 
 
 ten days. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 Alex. Syv." 
 
 29 
 
 (Third letter to M. Goroshkin) 
 "As I told you in one of my letters, the actions of 
 some people in Tobolsk are more or less significant. 
 Father A. Vassiliev has become welcome to the 
 Emperor and has all of his confidence. We tried to 
 warn him of this pope, but I don't think it worked, 
 for they know that Vassiliev received some very 
 important documents from the Emperor, and also 
 his revolver and sword for safekeeping. 
 
 At present there is an organization in Tobolsk 
 helping the family with money and food; the Or- 
 dovsky-Tanaevskys, the Prince Khovansky's family 
 and the Budischevs. The latter house is on Rojest- 
 vensky Street about four blocks from the Mansion. 
 
 193 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Bishop Hermogen comes often, as well as Bishop 
 Irinarch and some others. None are really good. 
 The Empress is sick — the same old nervousness. 
 The Heir is all right, barring a little accident — 
 he fell down stairs and got a bad bump on his head. 
 They say that the Bishop received a letter from the 
 Dowager Empress which was brought by a German 
 war prisoner. Others think that this letter was an 
 act "de provocation" and has been fabricated by the 
 Bolsheviki to circulate a bad story about the Bishop. 
 
 They speak a great deal about taking the Em- 
 peror from here to European Russia and the whole 
 family is scared. 
 
 The situation is very precarious: there is a de- 
 cided tendency on the side of the Bolsheviki to take 
 the family away — ^some say, to Ekaterinburg, other 
 to Berezov; deputies from Petrograd and Ekaterin- 
 burg, arrived in Tobolsk asking the local soviet 
 to give up the family. The members of the 
 "Detachment of Special Destination" do not allow 
 that, saying that the Family will be given only to the 
 Constituent Assembly and the population is on the 
 side of this detachment. There may be an out- 
 break. In certain houses there are firearms. The 
 situation would be better if the soldiers from the 
 detachment had been paid ; but since last September 
 they have not been, so discontent is growing. Col- 
 onel Kobylinsky's behavior seems to be strange. 
 
 The Ufa movement is gaining in strength. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 Al. Syv." 
 
 194 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 30 
 
 {Fourth letter to M. Goroshkin) 
 "In case you would like to eliminate the work of 
 my companion, — let me know, and it could be very 
 easily done : she could be taken out of the house and 
 put on the train going in any direction. Schmelin 
 would help in this case. Then I would go away, for 
 instance to Ekaterinburg or Omsk. I shall wait 
 for your letter in regard to this, and in the meantime 
 I'll remain just as I am now. Please do not let me 
 stay in my actual position. I simply refuse to be 
 aiming at her back with a concealed dagger. Even 
 as it is, my life is untenable — the way I live, and the 
 people I have to meet, make it perfectly horrid. . . . 
 {end of letter missing) 
 
 31 
 
 I never knew that a wireless apparatus for a range 
 of more than one hundred miles could be such a small 
 thing. Really this war has brought about some 
 wonders, and it is clear to me this particular station, 
 that was delivered yesterday, is a military outfit. 
 I remember little about wireless telegraphy; only few 
 
 195 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 explanations given to me by Capt. Volkhovsky, and 
 after the very solemn inauguration of the "Spark- 
 Radio" we had a gala-performance. It is but a 
 superficial study indeed. 
 
 I cannot understand this strange silence of Gorosh- 
 kin. Is he dead? If he is dead — what happened to 
 Marchenko? Are they both dead? Now since the 
 Ls are gone and Pasha has become some Bolshevik's 
 property (poor little thing!) I have no idea what to 
 do. Shall I consider myself in the game, or did the 
 whole organization end ; shall I continue on my own 
 behalf? I have been thinking, and thinking about 
 it, and have decided that I must continue my in- 
 formative functions, and must wait as I have been 
 told. They said I shall be on my post — and I must 
 remain. The absence of letters does not mean much : 
 they can be in a terrible situation in Moscow now — 
 we know nothing. If my letters have not reached 
 Goroshkin — they have reached somebody else ; in the 
 latter case I would have been hanged long ago, or 
 shot, or something similar, if the letters did not reach 
 friends. 
 
 Lucie? Well if she is not the crookedest woman! 
 I do not think I could get rid of her now even if I 
 would. Schmelin knows of my going out of town, it 
 is clear. Of course he closes his eyes, — but I never 
 can doubt that he will be the first to "put me on a 
 clear water" as soon as he apprehends that the other 
 commissaries know of my wanderings and trading 
 with the Letts, and of what is now under our bed. 
 
 Something new : Lucie received a rubber bath, so I 
 
 196 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 have to warm up the water and then wait. . . . 
 (end of page missing) 
 .... She would come back, as soon as I shall be 
 ready putting the wires instead of the ropes in the 
 yard for drying the linen. I was glad to know it. 
 Certainly. Personally I am very glad to see her 
 around : she is a nice little woman when she does not 
 plot. It is agreeable to have tea at five and then 
 everything looks so clean and neat since she came. 
 Good God, should she be simply a nice little Lucie! 
 How agreeable everything could become — as if there 
 
 were no Revolution, no Bolsheviki, no Emperor 
 
 But no ; Fate has to put a drop of tar in a barrel of 
 honey. However, perhaps I would have hated to 
 see a cook around here : as soon as a woman gets too 
 domestic — ^she infallably becomes unattractive. As 
 for Lucie — enclosed in a cage as we are — I never saw 
 Iier unwashed, uncombed, frivolous or unladylike. 
 So let her be a plotter. I must be grateful as we 
 never quarrel. . . . She sends me away when. . . . 
 {end of page missing) 
 
 32 
 
 (Fifth letter to M. Goroshkin) 
 ". . . . a man by name Alexander Petrovich 
 Mamaev from Novo-Nikolaevsk. He has a plan of 
 
 197 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 his own, which he wants to accomplish. He has some 
 people working for him, nothing serious, if I may 
 judge. Mamaev's plan is being worked out this 
 way : his people will buy out the sentinels and take 
 the Emperor and the Heir (perhaps the Princesses, 
 but, as he says "the old woman will never be con- 
 sidered") and rush both eastward by the old high- 
 way. On the stations Mamaev's people are now 
 hiring horses and coachmen. They have collected 
 money amongst the merchants. They plan to take 
 the Emperor as far as Blagoveshchensk-on-Amur. 
 Thence to San-Haliang, on the Chinese side of the 
 river. Fron San-Haliang somewhere out of the 
 country, — I never heard where to. The organization 
 works successfully in the region of Tomsk, where all 
 is ready for immediate action. 
 
 There is much imagination in Mamaev's plan, 
 and though I know his preparations are watched in 
 Ekaterinburg, they do not meet with approval at all. 
 Captain Kaidalov of the Crimea Horse Regt. is now 
 the soul of Ekaterinburg and he does not approve. 
 He is a fine fellow, I know, and very courageous: 
 he went to the local soviet, became their confident 
 and persona grata and I think is virtually the only 
 one who really understands the problems and rea- 
 lizes their difficulty and their danger. Please let 
 me know whether I should inquire any longer about 
 all of this! 
 
 Yours, 
 
 Alex. Syv." 
 
 198 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 33 
 
 Sunday she came back from the trip. I felt quite 
 lonesome all of this week. Two men were with her : 
 one — a Russian, the silent type, with a big hat, who 
 was taking care of the horse: the other, a tall, broad 
 faced Anglo-Saxon fellow, whose bronzed face .would 
 be appropriate in the tropics but not on:the,whit^ 
 steppes of Siberia. A little longhaired -ppny/brtiught 
 the trio in a fancy sledge early in the-rrioThing. The 
 Englishman (his name is Stanley) sfauted to work 
 with the radio, silent, serious, smoliing a; short black 
 pipe. He took me for Lucie's servant.-- 'l-f'! 'hkdi 
 had any doubt of his nationality, I never could have 
 mistaken his tobacco: Navy Cut,-^//ie one make I 
 can't tolerate. He filled our small hbusd; wrth blue 
 clouds of stink. When they all came l-r^n t&-the 
 sledge, but from a distance Lucie signaled to m6 with 
 her eyes that no tender expressions were needed. 
 She sent me out for food, then to a drug store, then 
 to the post-office, etc., etc. I obeyed. 
 
 So around noon I went to see the Princess. They 
 all make me sick, especially since the L. tragedy. 
 "If God does not help — we cannot." A certain 
 Mme. K-v is now hanging around her. A suffra- 
 gette — that's what she is. She said "some women 
 are now here — we know nothing about. . . ."allud- 
 ing of course to me. I hardly could wait until 
 evening. 
 
 199 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 It was evening when S. finished connecting the 
 kitchen station with the city current. When I came 
 home he and the Russian were trying to harness the 
 pony. The poor little horse was choking from the 
 smoke of his pipe and trying to bite the torturer. 
 
 "Say, Lucie," the Englishman said to her, as 
 shivering in my overcoat, she came out to say 
 good-bye to him, "the benzine is in the barn, over 
 there under the hay. Tell your man to be careful 
 and not" to smoke around here." 
 ..' '"If .'it 'did .not explode after your pipe, sir," I 
 replied irirnybest Shakesperian, "my cigarette won't 
 do any harfn. _= So don't be alarmed." 
 . It. took hini about half a minute to digest the fact 
 that { "could understand his cockney. Lucie became 
 almost hysterical with laughter and ran into the 
 house. /'."•. ■ 
 
 Thenhft rnade a serious face and sprang into the 
 "sledge ^d the Russian flicked the horse with the 
 <}A\ip. ' Near the corner, I saw him say something to 
 the Russian and they turned back. 
 
 "Say," the Englishman asked, "are you English? 
 Or Canadian, I fancy?" 
 
 "Never mind me. Major or Captain, or whoever 
 you are. I'm just I. Don't fancy, and proceed. 
 I'm busy." 
 
 I closed the gate and heard another formidable 
 crack of the whip on the pony's fat flanks. 
 
 Hundreds of bells started ringing again, and then 
 died away in the distance, drowned out by a loco- 
 motive whistle. . . . 
 
 200 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 And here I was in my room again. In the corner 
 stood Lucie, lovely creature with all her funny 
 actions and thoughts, Heaven knows by what and 
 whom inspired. 
 
 "Look what I brought, Alex! Here are canned 
 goods, and chocolate and coffee, and ham, and. ..." 
 and she threw package after package on the bed. 
 On one of them I read "Army and Navy Calcutta," 
 but said nothing and looked away. I'm getting sly. 
 She noticed it too, the little devil ! She sent me out to 
 see whether or not the gate was closed, and when I 
 came back the label was scratched out. 
 
 34 
 
 {Sixth letter to M. Goroshkin) 
 "There are, virtually, three — or perhaps more — 
 organizations, members of which have decided to 
 save the Emperor from imprisonment. They all 
 realize the danger of letting things go on by them- 
 selves, or of relying upon German promises. 
 
 The latter are well known here and in Tobolsk 
 from Bolshevik sources. When during the Brest- 
 Litovsk pourparlers the Russian Delegates were 
 waiting for the Germans, the latter entered the room 
 of conference, and found it filthy with smoke; the 
 Bolsheviki were extremely hilarious, and laughed 
 
 201 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 and joked among themselves. To show his inde- 
 pendence Monsieur Trotsky was sitting on the table; 
 others were without collars and in the most unre- 
 spectable state of humor. When the German dele- 
 gation entered they did not move ; the leader of the 
 Germans, an old general, stopped for a moment, 
 looked at them in disgust, and then suddenly shouted : 
 "Stand! Attention! Get up, you, Kameraden!" 
 
 Electrified — they all got up, Trotsky first, although 
 with the remark "For why"? The General con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "By order of His Majesty the King and Emperor, 
 I declare that there is at Tobolsk in your hands the 
 relative of my August Master, — ^Her Imperial Majes- 
 ty the Empress of Russia with her consort and 
 children. Until this is arranged — we shall not 
 proceed with this conference of ours. We demand 
 your guarantees that 1st — you vouch for their 
 perfect safety; 2d — you immediately will take steps 
 to deliver the prisoners abroad. Now, at rest! 
 Sit down!" 
 
 I was told that the delegates from the Soviets had 
 the authority to vouch for them in this regard, for 
 they say unofificially that the matter had been 
 previously taken up by Russian and German diplo- 
 macy. So a telegram was sent by Joffe to Lenine, 
 who answered, "measures taken." Then the Brest- 
 Li to vsk sale commenced. 
 
 This evidently was not fulfilled, although I have 
 heard that there is certain movement on the part of 
 Germans, especially amongst the war prisoners. I 
 
 202 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 consider it impracticable. At present, the military 
 situation is as follows: the Czechs are nearing the 
 Samara-Zlatoust line ; in Siberia — there is a very big 
 movement of Czech war prisoners and Russians — to 
 assist the Czechs in their task of reaching the Pacific. 
 Battles are raging on the Volga front. It is evident 
 that the salvation of the Family cannot come from 
 Germany, for there would not be any place and way 
 to take the Emperor out of Tobolsk, but by way of the 
 Trans-Siberian, — a long journey with no possibilities 
 of getting out of this country. The local Bolsheviki 
 are beyond the control of the centers. They want 
 to "govern" themselves — evidently with no orders 
 and particularly confidential (I think this one would 
 be such) would not be executed. 
 
 The Ekaterinburg organization is weak as I al- 
 ready wrote you. First because the organization is 
 in Ekaterinburg and the Emperor in Tobolsk. 
 
 Who are these people? They want first of all, 
 and altogether, restitution for the sake of getting 
 good positions for valuable services rendered the 
 Family. They all see that the restitution is problem- 
 atic, — so their desire is not strong. They act weakly, 
 they think lazily, they move with an agony of in- 
 difference. All that they have done is certainly 
 known to Kobylinsky and — to the Commissaries. 
 And if they are not yet all arrested — it is because the 
 sovietists want to know their actions. If the 
 damned lack of organization, that we all are suffering 
 from, can be noticed in our present life — it is ideally 
 clearly seen in the Ekaterinburg circles. The Prin- 
 
 203 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 cess G. and others are of the same sort; dully think- 
 ing, believing in and hoping for marvels and miracles, 
 trying to look busy and tired. They gossip about 
 each other, they are ready to sink each other in a 
 spoonful of water. Now what is their plan? They 
 haven't any, — at least, nothing definite. They all 
 say vaguely "we are going to buy out Col. Kobylinsky 
 and the sentinels and the Bolsheviki." All right. 
 Supposing there were someone among them who 
 would go and try this buying proposition? Sup- 
 posing they were to buy Kobylinsky, and the sentinels 
 and the Bolsheviki. What will they do with the 
 Emperor? Against them there would be the whole 
 world. There is no way for the Ekaterinburg people 
 to get him out, just as there is no way for the Germans. 
 All is closed for them, except a crazy scheme of 
 taking the Family into the interior, which I do not 
 consider feasible. It is impossible. I was told to 
 watch all that I could in connection with the move 
 in Tumen; I was instructed to watch the Ekaterin- 
 burg organization and the Princess. I hope I am 
 not considered a member of this organization as it is 
 a failure, and I hate to participate in deadborn ad- 
 ventures. 
 
 Again there is the work that Lucie is doing. I do 
 not know for whom she works, though I can see she 
 is not working by herself. I can see that there is 1st, 
 a certain participation of people with means — ^she 
 has money and certain buying capacities, a sign of 
 great importance at present : 2d, there is evidently a 
 planned and systematic scheme of work in all the 
 
 204 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 actions around me; 3d, there is an unseen hand di- 
 recting the whole enterprise, decisive and strong. 
 
 What is this plan? I can as now see only one 
 thing: provisions are made, both in food and mu- 
 nitions, and shipped through my home east. There 
 is an intense wireless communication — I cannot know 
 what it is about. A man in smoked glasses comes 
 every evening and sits — near the apparatus. Some- 
 times he only listens in; sometimes he gets his "tune" 
 and talks. In the latter case, Lucie goes down town 
 and leaves me at home. I think she mails the com- 
 munications or maybe someone waits for her in the 
 
 post office, or, what is possible 
 
 (few Lines scratched out) 
 
 .... Her Russian is not at all good, she hardly 
 speaks it in fact, but she gets along as Lucie de Clive, 
 a French demoiselle. With her, as far as I can see 
 are the following elements: 1st, the British officer, — 
 Stanley, or whatever his name really is; 2d, the 
 silent Russian, with wiry Siberian hat and extremely 
 profane language (I think he swears when praying) : 
 3d, two Letts as she calls them, though there is just 
 as much Lettish in them as in you, or me, — they 
 both speak Russian like Russians ; 4th, myself. About 
 the last point I can tell, that lately I am in the 
 traffic business. Lucie asks me very often to take 
 loads to the outskirts of Tumen, near the Freight 
 Depot, which we receive with the Siberian pony, 
 and I take it in my sledge behind the Depot, where 
 I deliver the goods — only in the evenings — to the 
 Letts. Sometimes we speak, but never much. 
 
 205 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Usually, "Very cold," or "How snowy," or "Have 
 you a cigarette?" After delivering the goods — al- 
 together I have done it about five times, I return 
 home. The Letts wait to move until I go away; I 
 did not succeed in trailing them — and honestly would 
 not want to very much. I have my private reasons 
 for not getting into Lucie's way. Besides, why 
 should I ? I am sure that we all are working for the 
 same purpose, but perhaps from different standpoints. 
 On the other hand, it astonishes me exceedingly, 
 
 that Lucie 
 
 (two lines scratched out) 
 and he arranged for my protection and undisturbed 
 life here, — ^so seemingly everything is in perfect 
 accordance. You never answer my letters, but 
 couldn't you manage to acknowledge them? Please 
 do it. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 Alex. Syv." 
 
 35 
 
 "I have been here so long! . . . . Isn't it funny, 
 Alex, how the time has passed?" 
 
 The night was a windy one as though Winter knew 
 it was its last chance to freeze people to death before 
 Spring would come; the long night seemed slow in 
 
 206' 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 coming. All day we had worked very hard in the 
 barn preparing a big load which Lucie had asked me 
 to take to the Letts. After dinner, we had kippered 
 herring and some meat stew a I'lrlandaise, we were 
 sitting near the open oven. "Lent bells! I wonder 
 who is praying? . . . ." 
 
 "Yes, six weeks, dear. Six weeks of perfect sin- 
 cerity and mutual trust, — it is not a little thing." 
 
 She accepted my remark without turning her face 
 from the fire near which we were sitting. "Six 
 weeks," she said again. 
 
 "Do you remember the man who was playing near 
 me in Monte Carlo the day we met?" 
 
 "There were too many of them. Which one do 
 you mean?" 
 
 "The tall man, Mr. Osborne — never mind trying, 
 it does not matter, I just happened to think of him." 
 
 "Anything identical with our six weeks of life?" 
 I asked, and immediately regretted my bad temper — 
 I am getting impossible. 
 
 "Very much," she said sadly. "Very much; only 
 under other circumstances, other climates, other 
 people. Not so inconsiderate.'' 
 
 When I looked at her my heart filled with pity. 
 Who is this woman? I don't know her. Perhaps 
 she has something in her heart — the very existence 
 of which I had oftentimes doubted. Perhaps, in her 
 life of adventures, she has had more hardships, more of 
 tragedy than I, — with all of my selfish sufferings of a 
 man who used to be rich and prominent, and is now 
 humble and poor? Perhaps she has more of self- 
 
 207 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 control not to show it, — nevertheless the amount of 
 her bitterness of life must be the same, if not deeper, 
 than mine? 
 
 We have been here for six weeks I have no 
 
 place to go. So I am here. But she? I am sure 
 she could be somewhere else, in better surroundings, 
 amongst people better than I am. And during these 
 six weeks — we were not friends. We were only 
 plotters, joined under one roof, and secretly hostile 
 to each other — "I am ashamed," I said to her, 
 "honestly I am. You must think that I have never 
 cared to know what is in your mind. We have al- 
 ways been distant and mysterious, always absorbed 
 in our own affairs. Why should I trouble you with 
 my questions? Especially, if I knew beforehand 
 that you wouldn't answer. Yes, we have been to- 
 gether six weeks — more than that — we live under the 
 same roof, eat the same food, have our life as close 
 as two human beings can, — and yet — here we are, — 
 apart from each other. You are a woman, it's up to 
 you to break this distance and build a bridge over it." 
 
 "Well," she said, putting her small hand on mine, 
 "you approach the question evidently from another 
 angle. I am not speaking of our business, which 
 may, and which may not, be the same. Why am I 
 so sad and so blue? It is that I feel I am all alone 
 here. I can tell you . and I think that you have al- 
 ready understood it, that I came to Tumen with 
 orders to see a certain Syvorotka. I had to be with 
 him, use his house, use his protection, use his con- 
 nections. I did not know who this Syvorotka was. 
 
 208 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 A cave man? An ex-soldier? A sick man? A fat 
 butcher? A sentimental, but dirty druggist? Of all the 
 men in the world, — and while coming here I imagined 
 all possible types, — that I should have met you, Alex ! 
 You have always meant so much to me. I have al- 
 ways liked you. When I saw you last in Petrograd 
 I tried to get you into my affairs. Why? I don't 
 know. You have no ambitions, you have no char- 
 acter, — nothing. And still, I tried to get you, only 
 to be with you. You refused — for you never cared : 
 perhaps once in Marseilles, when you wanted to kiss 
 me (you see I did not forget) — and even at that time 
 
 you were drunk And here in Tumen — ^you 
 
 were the man, with whom as they told me, I had to go 
 as far as was necessary to get his good services " 
 
 "Strange life, this one of mine," she ended her 
 remark and again turned to look into the flames. 
 
 "Lucie, you never told me you cared, I thought you 
 were for your own affairs much more than for any- 
 thing else; now I see it in a different light." 
 
 "You do? It is late. I am going. I am leaving 
 you — this time for good. A week — or so, and I am 
 far away from here, from you — with all of your good 
 and bad qualities. The time in which we live — does 
 not allow any speculations. One must get what he 
 sees." 
 
 "What do you mean by 'going away'?" 
 
 "Just what I say. I received orders to move to 
 another place. No, I cannot tell you. That's all. 
 You, and this little house, and some hopes I had 
 here, — all, all, must be forgotten. Other people, and 
 
 209 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 other scenery. A radical change again. Heavens 
 knows how soon I can forget this little white cold 
 town " 
 
 "Yes," she continued, looking at me, "yes, this 
 cold town, with you; and you — with your double- 
 crossings, with your reports on me, with your bad 
 behavior, with your treason. Alex — love is a strange 
 thing. I don't mind it at all! You never knew it. 
 You never loved your poor Maroossia : she was your 
 comfort — that's all. You never thought of Lucie 
 de Clive as such: for you — ^she was a little girl that 
 possibly might have been in your way, but you let 
 her stay because she comforted you. Now — ^she is 
 going, and very likely you won't see her any more. 
 In your life — she was a page of a book; now you've 
 read it! . . . ." 
 
 She was crying, really crying! Such an actress! 
 
 36 
 
 I came home at seven from the village — ^nobody in 
 there! Nobody to give me my tea. All looks 
 empty, abandoned. On the bed pinned to the 
 pillow, — a note: "Good-by." My companion left 
 me — today. And I had so much to say to her 
 
 She did not forget to look in my bag before leaving, 
 as I see. I thought so. 
 
 210 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 My diary has been censored: many pages are mis- 
 sing and some rough hand-made corrections in the 
 text have been made leaving greasy spots on the 
 paper. Some of my documents are stolen. I don't 
 see the letter from Marchenko to Schmelin, the chart 
 with Mamaev's stations, and a few others. Fortun- 
 ately, Kerensky's letter to Grimm was not taken, 
 as I had put it under the floor of the barn with my 
 money and watch. 
 
 She must have had the help of the man with the 
 specs — ^she would not be able to understand my 
 scratching. They must have been busy all day! 
 But what really gets me wild — almost all of my 
 letters to Goroshkin are here! How did she get 
 them? I understand why Goroshkin's letters missed 
 me — ^she got them! .... Now I understand what 
 she meant by saying that I was trying to double cross 
 her! In fact Lucie is right, — and that's why it's 
 maddening. I wonder what Goroshkin and March- 
 enko think of me? To whom I must seem a swine! 
 And what a bad way of her's, to leave my letters — 
 a present for me ! 
 
 She did what she wanted, this creature of intrigues 
 and no personality: with "lips of fire and heart of 
 stone." She got in me a good guardian of her barn, 
 a good transport agent for her Britishers and Letts, 
 she tangled me up in such a way that I could no 
 report on her, she enjoyed the privileges of local 
 Soviet's protection through me, — in short all she 
 
 wanted And here I am alone from now on, — 
 
 "Good-by" — that's all. She left me this little note — 
 
 211 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 and a bitter feeling that formerly I was not alone, — 
 and now I am. For these sensations of lonesomeness 
 a man should never start companionships, — ^whether 
 with a woman, or a dog, or even a goldfish. The one 
 who is alone — is alone. The one that becomes alone — 
 feels doubly rotten 
 
 ' 'Quidquid ages— prudenter agas, et respice f inem' '— 
 and I was a fool, — ^here I am alone like Shelly 's moon, 
 and "pardessus-le-marche" — robbed! Am I not an 
 old ass? 
 
 She will laugh with her silvery laughter in some- 
 body else's house, she will mend somebody else's 
 socks, and sit on somebody else's lap. The "other 
 chap from Monte Carlo," will be asked whether he 
 remembers me. And the other chap will probably 
 answer her, as I did. How tactless ! 
 
 My God ! Long and uninteresting life looks to me ! 
 Does it only look, or did it become? .... I must 
 sleep all of this off! 
 
 37 
 
 My sole connection with the rest of the world is 
 my work in the Princess' garden. A dull, tiresome, 
 uninteresting work, in fact — labor. As a diversion — 
 the corpulent cook. My God! If she would only 
 wash oftener! .... 
 
 212 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 When I come home — I look out of the small win- 
 dow; the landscape is magnificent: about twenty 
 yards of virgin soil with Spring grass on it and the 
 barn on the horizon. Behind — the fence, over which 
 I see the tops of the heads of passers-by. 
 
 "Suave mari magno turbantibus aequora ventis 
 spectare laborem . . . ." I forget how it runs fur- 
 ther! My latin gets weak. I wish I had Virgil, or 
 even "Commentarii de Bello Gallico." I 'd be arrested 
 and tried if I asked for them in a book store " 
 
 If only I could obtain some money, and buy a 
 decent suit and get away, — to Vladivostok, and then 
 through America to France. It seems as though 
 France is all. It is life. It is salvation from my 
 miseries. 
 
 In the evenings I try to arrange in shape my docu- 
 ments and writings after the looting. For the docu- 
 ments I could be well paid, here, — ^but I do not want 
 that. Let the Russia of to-morrow see what has been 
 done by our present leaders, and by those who gave 
 
 us to the scaffold M. Kerensky's letter to 
 
 Grimm — alone would make me happy if some day its 
 contents are known 
 
 Where is Lucie now? How empty my house is! 
 
 213 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 38 
 
 The Princess came out to me in the garden and 
 asked me whether I could go to Tobolsk and deliver 
 a letter to Mr. Botkin there. 
 
 "Of course, I can, your Ladyship, if I have enough 
 money." 
 
 "I don't mean that," she answered coldly, looking 
 with disgust at the manure I was mixing, "don't 
 worry, we will pay you. I mean whether you could 
 arrange with your Bolsheviki for a permit." 
 
 "Why not?" I answered, "they do not want me. 
 
 I am not a rich man, nor a Nobleman " (I 
 
 simply love to annoy her). 
 
 "That will do, Alexei," she said, casting at me a 
 nasty look, "You may come for the letter at dinner 
 time. Tell the cook that you want to see me." 
 
 She does not think that I am a man. She hates me. 
 Under my beard and shabby flannel shirt she sees 
 neither my face nor my person. She has no shame 
 before me : were I in my uniform of a gentleman-in- 
 waiting, cleanly shaven and speaking her language, 
 and not in the one I acquired lately, she would have 
 buttoned her shoes, gartered her stockings, and 
 would not have shown the bad quality of her corset 
 cover under her wide-opened robe-de-chambre. If 
 she only knew how her hired help understood her. 
 
 At four I was in the kitchen. Here — another inter- 
 esting phase of life ! The woman from Moscow who 
 
 214 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 claims to be a cook, does not think I am from her 
 midst, but feels with her organic cleverness that I am 
 an imposter. 
 
 "You, — gentry! You liar! Hate your face ! Hope 
 the devil will get you soon!" she says, — ^but she isn't 
 a bad woman, she means well, only she is not as clean 
 as her profession demands. Altogether the kitchen 
 is a mournful place. 
 
 "What is your business?" she asked, "You want 
 to see the Princess? Don't lie to me!" 
 
 "My business is none of your business," said I, 
 "Forget it! Better tell me if I can have some beer? 
 Go on, cookie, lay it out. Don't be so stingy!" 
 
 The stubborn woman would not give it to me, until 
 I took her gfently around the waist and pinched her 
 arm with all of my force, — that's the way to get 
 cook's sympathies; it's astonishing how it works! 
 I got some beer. 
 
 Then I was invited in: "Come in, you scabby 
 devil." 
 
 "You will have to take this," said the Princess, 
 giving me a letter so that she wouldn't touch my 
 hand, "and be sure they don't catch you with the 
 letter. Be careful, don't drink, Alexei. It's bad to 
 drink ; when you come back we'll give you 500 rubles." 
 
 "Je ne le tolere pas," she said to the Prince, "il 
 a lair si commun! II nous vendrait tous, s'il etait 
 assez intelligent!" 
 
 The Prince did not answer (I guess he knows more 
 than her Highness) and looked aside, grumbling 
 something just to calm his better half. 
 
 215 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 I stared at her, just to scare this bad female, from 
 under my eyebrows. 
 
 "Vous voyez," the Princess almost cried, "Vous 
 voyez! Mon Dieu! Quel type horrible! J'ai peur 
 de lull C'est un digenere! il nous trahira!" She com- 
 plimented me in this manner for a while, and then 
 started to give me some silly instructions, — how to 
 get there, etc. 
 
 Finally, I left the house, went to Schmelin and 
 got his permission in a minute, and tonight — I am 
 leaving. 
 
 My house and all in it will be taken good care of, — 
 Schmelin promised to look after it. 
 
 Good-by, my humble hut ! Good-by Tumen ! 
 
 216 
 
III. TOBOLSK 
 
III. TOBOLSK 
 
 39 
 
 The Irtysh opened its dark blue streams for navi- 
 gation not so long ago. From my place on the deck 
 I see spots of old yellowish snow on the hills ; near the 
 banks — the fresh, innocent grass is already daring to. 
 appear on the surface. Peasants are doing something 
 on the vast plains. The very, very old story of the 
 mythical Lei ! White and chaste birches, triste and 
 flirtatious women amongst the trees, are trimming 
 their Spring fashion dresses. 
 
 However this coming back to life, of the hills, and 
 plains, and trees, this warmth in the air — does not 
 affect the passengers. Who in the devil will nowa- 
 days snivel about Spring and myths ? All sentiment 
 died in Russia; everything, at least, looks dead, — ^but 
 the co-operative Societies : they plan a large business, 
 meaning "trusts" when they advertise for "co- 
 operation." 
 
 With the exception of the representatives of the 
 "Creamery Union" (who were fat and noisy), — the 
 rest of our fellow-travelers were gloomy and sordid ; 
 I rarely could detect a smile, and if there was a hilar- 
 ious expression, it was at somebody's expense, always 
 malicious and malignant. A boy cut his little finger 
 and squealed for "mama" like a young pig — people 
 smiled. An old woman passed on the deck and fell 
 so badly that tears came into her colorless eyes — 
 smiles became bright and gay; somebody even 
 
 218 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 whistled. A stowaway was caught in the baggage 
 room — a pale faced young chap with a forlorn ex- 
 pression — the crew committee started to "investi- 
 gate" (just undressed him on the deck) — and people 
 became joyful and gigglish 
 
 Is it my people? Are those bad creatures — our 
 men who fought in the snows of Hungary armed with 
 fists and patriotism, — for the munitions were yet the 
 subject of speculations; did these men cross the 
 scorched plains of Persia, sent there clad in uniforms 
 prepared for Archangel? Did they make efforts to 
 save small mutilated nations? Is the history of 
 Russia — these pages of blood and sacrifices — made 
 by them? Did Russia take from them Pushkin, 
 Chaikovsky, Mechnikov, Tolstoi and the brilliant 
 web of savants, musicians, soldiers, explorers and 
 poets? .... 
 
 I am from this same bulk that centuries ago came 
 from Asia and settled here. They — and I are the 
 same. But I can't understand them! In France, in 
 England, in Germany, I could understand the crowd 
 better. But these men and women are so far from 
 
 my conception And they all pay me back with 
 
 the same coin : they not only misunderstand me and 
 my kin, — but they mistrust me. I can deceive a 
 bolshevik commissary, or the Princess G.; these — 
 with their psychology never would let me come 
 closer. I am an intruder to their caste. 
 
 Before — in Petrograd — we all have had this very 
 same fear of our select caste for a newcomer, just as 
 these have. In our midst the man who tried to break 
 
 219 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 in would be caught right away. Now I understand 
 this little, mean, reptile impulse of catering to the one 
 whom you seek, this feeling that the parvenu must 
 have felt, this sensation of the necessity of flattering, 
 for which one blushes in the nights, for which one 
 can't sleep and turns endlessly in warm cushions. 
 The parvenu! Pushkin said: 
 
 .... and an exchange of silent glance 
 
 Forever took away his chance 
 
 It was enough for us to look at each other — and 
 the parvenu would not come near us any more. 
 Here — instead of the poetical form of Pushkin I must 
 recollect the words of the Tumen cook: 
 
 "You liar! Hate your face of a gentry!" 
 
 Isn't it a correct translation from my Russian into 
 theirs? 
 
 Well, — I'd rather stop my scratchings: Tobolsk. 
 
 40 
 
 "Do not write too much," said a walking corpse 
 clad in rags, seating himself near me on a soft pack 
 of his baggage. "It is better to forget all about it. 
 Why do you do it? What is the use?" His suffer- 
 ing face was not at all familiar to me, — so, when he 
 asked me, "Haven't we met before?" — I said "No." 
 He looked to me like one of those Siberian peasants. 
 
 220 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Then, under the coat of dirt, under his rags and an 
 old Orenburg shawl, I really saw something familiar. 
 "Perhaps we met," I said. "Petrograd?" 
 "Yes, indeed," he bowed his old head and sighed. 
 "I used to go very often to the French Theatre. 
 You remember 'L'Aiglon?' " Can I chat with you a 
 bit ? This silence is simply killing me. Four months 
 of silence ! Don't you think, mister writer, of what a 
 sweet, what a wonderful word 'revenge' is? If you 
 write — do write about it! Revenge for having 
 cleaned the streets, for having been thrown out of 
 every Embassy, every Legation, every Consulate — 
 I, whose three sons are sleeping there, on the Prussian 
 Frontier — forever? — when I begged them to help 
 me and let me go to Paris only to die near my wife? 
 Revenge! Just to see England — torn to pieces, 
 France — robbed, Japan — licking our feet, — to see 
 them separately doing what we suffer combinedly. 
 They all betrayed us, they sold us, they mock at us ! 
 We are paying for our readiness to save Serbia. We 
 are dying for it — and I do not regret it. I know that 
 from our dead body, from our bier — poisonous 
 flowers are growing; their fragrancy will send pesti- 
 lence and destruction to our lucky Allies, and ruin 
 
 them, and ruin them If I only could help it. 
 
 . . . . If only I could live long enough to witness it." 
 The man looked crazy to me. He evidently is one 
 of those whose minds gave way. His eyes were 
 sparkling flames — while his greenish face with a slut- 
 tish beard remained immovable and serious. From 
 away — we both were talking of our village affairs. 
 
 221 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 He continued : 
 
 "Don't you think I am talking for myself. It is 
 for Russia. I am finished anyhow. Go ahead! 
 Betray me too. Tell them I am Counsellor of State, 
 and a landlord, and marshal of nobility. I do not 
 
 care ! I am finished Yet in my better days 
 
 I had cancer. It was almost a pleasure then. 
 Don't smile, it's true. Now — I need oysters, and 
 fruit, and fine Port wine, and medicine, — and I have 
 bread, which I cannot digest, and they kick me out of 
 
 every hospital I'm sure the cancer is nearing 
 
 my heart. If I die, — I won't see my remuneration: 
 the downfall of our traitors. Friend, — what can I 
 do to hasten it? How can I avenge Russia ? . . . ." 
 
 "It is a hard question to answer. I think you 
 exaggerate a little. I am myself after a settlement, 
 but I do not go so far. My goal is smaller. I would 
 like to find a man in Petrograd, so that I could make 
 the rest of the world understand what he really is. 
 He is a criminal cretin. Yes, it is this man, exactly. 
 But not at this time. Look around: The Spring is 
 here. Don't you think the air is pacifying? The 
 air calls to a perfect selfishness. So, if I had seen 
 the man right here, I would have shot him of course, 
 but I hate to think of getting into trouble now." 
 
 "Air! Spring! Are you in love, young man?" 
 
 Then he grew sad and silent for a while. "No, I 
 can't see any pleasure in Spring." He became sunk 
 in his thoughts, and looked away. 
 
 I love Winter just because it dies every year, and 
 gives place to a new life ! And again the thin birches 
 
 222 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 become green and chastely white. And I know my 
 birch is somewhere — looking for me. 
 
 Tobolsk ! Pretty town — I must admit. The high 
 bank with green slopes is covered with churches, 
 white buildings and gleaming gold crosses. Some- 
 thing tranquil about Tobolsk ! Blue, red and green 
 roofs look shy from their cozy nests of trees. It 
 must be very exciting to live here when all is normal. 
 Good God ! I see from the deck the fine foggish veil 
 of dust and gossips hanging over the town. They 
 must still play "preference" here, or "vint." In 
 these little "centers" bridge must be unknown. 
 
 I took a room in a hotel and went to the Kornilov 
 house. It was about four. I heard the noise of forks 
 and knives, dinner time is so impossibly early in these 
 longitudes. A man answered my ring and said I 
 should wait outside and never ring the front door bell. 
 He explained where the kitchen entrance was. The 
 man, even in explaining these disagreeable things, 
 was polite: by profession, for I immediately saw he 
 was a former Chamber — lackey, though he had a 
 moustache and was looking meager. "Wait on the 
 street, service-man," he said, "I cannot let you in." 
 Very well, — I knowthese "waits" and "call later ons." 
 They don't hurt me. 
 
 I crossed the street and went down the slope. 
 There is a post office on the corner, — and a soldier 
 near it, — a regular Lett: white eyebrows, red face 
 and the meanest steel blue microscopic eyes deeply 
 placed under a low forehead. He looked at me and 
 impendingly changed the rifle from one shoulder to 
 
 223 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 the other. I turned upwards and continued all along 
 this "great Liberty Street." I did not want to pass 
 near the Mansion. I turned on the Tuliatskaya, 
 passed two blocks and explored where the Budish- 
 chevs were. Again a Lett, again no eyebrows over 
 the same piggish eyes. And again a Lett. Gracious ! 
 One more in here — and the whole Letvia must be in 
 Tobolsk ! 
 
 When I knew the city well enough I turned back to 
 Kornilov's. 
 
 The same chamber-lackey opened the rear door 
 almost killing me with the smell of cabbage. 
 
 "Dr. Botkin is not in," he said, when I explained 
 what I wanted, "Sit down, service-man. Take it" — 
 he gave me a cigarette with a gold crescent on it — 
 the kind they served at the Palace. I looked at the 
 crescent and then at the man. In one glance he got 
 I was not "service-man," but he did not show his 
 discovery, — only got up and continued talking. 
 
 ' 'The doctor is very busy right now. He was asked 
 across the street twice today. Have you come from 
 Russia? Demobilized?" 
 
 "Yes, quite demobilized," I answered. "I must 
 see Mr. Botkin right now, so won't you please tell him 
 about me as soon as he returns. Don't worry about 
 the kitchen — I cannot stay here: I'd rather sit 
 outside." 
 
 He showed me through the dining room into the 
 front hall. From there I could see the Mansion quite 
 well. A little square in front of it was fenced in, but 
 not very high. On the front stairs I noticed two 
 
 224 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 women and a boy, in whom, notwithstanding his 
 torn-out shoes and unhappy looks, I recognized the 
 unfortunate Heir to the Russian Throne. Someone 
 called him in — and he went slowly into the house. 
 Two Reds passed near the women smoking pipes and 
 dragging the rifles by their bayonettes. They both 
 looked piercingly at the women and exchanged a few 
 words with each other. The women slowly moved 
 toward the house. Their life must be a real torture 
 within this fence ! 
 
 A man of medium height passed from the Mansion 
 and crossed the street. He entered the Komilov 
 House, and after short conversation with the chamber- 
 lackey, — 
 
 "Did you wish to speak to me?" he asked, — I am 
 Dr. Botkin." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Now, — what is it?" 
 
 "I come from Tumen, Dr. Botkin. I have brought 
 you a letter from your friends." 
 
 A grimace passed over his face, and he stared at 
 me with suspicion. "Tumen? Who are you?" 
 
 "I hardly think my name would tell you anything, 
 doctor. Here is the letter." 
 
 He stopped my movement: 
 
 "Please, please, not here. Let's go in. Don't be 
 so sure of this place." 
 
 We entered the dining room, and he took the letter 
 and opened the envelope. After reading — there were 
 no more than two pages — ^he said : 
 
 "No answer. Do you know the contents?" 
 
 225 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 "I don't. But I can guess." 
 
 "Oh! Is that so?" 
 
 All of this commenced to irritate me. I shrugged 
 my shoulders. 
 
 "Very well, very well," the doctor said, "we must 
 not be offended. You know what times we live in. 
 Won't you sit down, please?" 
 
 The doctor was very nervous: rubbed his hands, 
 looked around and showed other signs of impatience. 
 Finally he expressed what was in his mind. 
 
 "Can't the Princess understand how risky these 
 writings are for us?" 
 
 "Just as risky as for the authors and bearers," I 
 replied feeling sorry for the lady who meant well. 
 "If there is no answer I don't think I'll return to 
 Tumen. I have nothing to do there. I see all these 
 affairs are managed in the same way, as we managed 
 them in our country. I am through. I thought 
 we had changed. I'll attend to other things. 
 
 "Please," he said looking at me with amazement, 
 "don't misunderstand me. You see," — he tried to 
 invent something, or say something, — "all is very 
 dangerous " 
 
 We were interrupted by a movement on the street. 
 A crowd of soldiers (for I cannot call it a company, or 
 a detachment, — just a crowd of man-haters clad in 
 uniform) passed, and made a demonstration against 
 the Mansion. A few stones and pieces of wood flew 
 onto the Mansion's roof, where they landed and 
 rolled down with a rattling noise, scaring the in- 
 
 226 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 habitants. A frightened face looked out of the 
 window — and hid immediately. 
 
 "The Hooligans!" said Botkin. "Every God's 
 day the same, every God's day !" 
 
 With laughter and whistles the crowd went down 
 the Great Liberty Street. All started suddenly and 
 just as quickly ended ; the street became calm again. 
 
 Botkin turned to me and continued : 
 
 "Perhaps I was too hasty about this 'no answer.' 
 I should' ve said it otherwise. I think it is of no use 
 to attempt to do anything, that's the idea. If any 
 plan will be successful, — it will not be this," he 
 showed the letter, "though it is appreciated, trust me 
 when I say it ! We are confronted with other inter- 
 ests, we happen to be in somebody's game." He 
 wanted to add something, — ^but stopped. "Perhaps 
 our misery was seen abroad through this dead screen 
 of general selfishness ! Believe me, sir, any attempt 
 is hopeless. Our effort only spoils, or might spoil, 
 more cleverly prearranged plans. Now — if you wish 
 me to be frank, I personally don't believe in what I 
 say to you. I think the song is sung " 
 
 "Very well, if I happen to communicate, I'll say 
 so." 
 
 An old lady passed the room and searchingly gazed 
 at me. Then a man, tall and thin came in, got a 
 drink of water and left. We both kept silent. An 
 atmosphere of distrust reigned for a while. I got up. 
 
 "Wait a while," Botkin said, "I still would like to 
 know whom I have the pleasure of speaking to?" 
 
 "Syvorotka is my name. I'll stay here in the 
 
 227 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 hotel for a while." 
 
 He looked at me without any confidence. 
 
 "As you please," he said, "I cannot force you to 
 take the mask off. Good-by." 
 
 We shook hands, — and I left the Kornilov's House. 
 
 Here I am in the Hotel. Dirty hole — that's it. 
 No linen. A mattress covered with spots. Rotten 
 humor. 
 
 Botkin fears that the efforts might compromise 
 those who are around the Mansion. He fears even 
 those who are in exile. He fears everything. But — 
 not for himself. I think he is an honest man. 
 
 There is nothing to do here — ^with these scared 
 people. Suspicious, having lost faith in each other, 
 and jealous ! I must try to approach them against 
 their will, — ^perhaps I can do something better than 
 in Tumen. 
 
 It is evident that the tragedy develops here. I 
 would not be surprised to know that Lucie is some- 
 where around. 
 
 41 
 
 With my pass from the Tumen soviet and a very 
 sure feeling of a perfect disguise, I came yesterday to 
 the local scoundrels, — the "high commission of in- 
 vestigations" as they call this filthy, impossible place 
 
 228 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 where they meet. It used to be the Ecclesiastical 
 School in other days. I had quite a time penetrating 
 these regions guarded by the Reds. The man to 
 whom I was recommended was an elderly kind-faced 
 fellow. All he was saying to me was virtually ad- 
 dressed to the crowd of Reds in the room ; as for the 
 room, I think it used to be in former times the pro- 
 fessors' room. 
 
 "Yes, yes, — ^your credentials are perfect. Comrade 
 Schmelin,— of course I know him ! You have no such 
 troubles in Tumen as we have here. But — all must 
 be done. And for the sake of the Revolution and 
 the Proletariat — ^we are here, and will do our duty." 
 
 To show how much power he had, he gave some 
 orders to the Reds. They would come near him to 
 take these orders, stand still as they were standing 
 only a few months ago before an officer, and then 
 turn in the brusque manner of soldiers. 
 
 The kind faced man — with his sly Jewish features 
 and bulgy big eyes, did not ask me who I was, how 
 I was, and why I wanted the position of an "advising 
 commissary" with the detachment. He looked at 
 me, and smiled, — read the letter I presented, — and, 
 seeing on my face an admiration for his splendor, ac- 
 cepted me. My God, how alike these people-in- 
 power are ! I remember, in my early days, the Count 
 Witte, a man with heavy, depressing looks. He 
 liked this move of a man-of-power. I recollect Mr. 
 Kokovtzev who liked so much to see admiration on 
 
 his visitor's face I see this little insignificant 
 
 and blunt Kerensky, that fished for worship 
 
 229 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 And here, — this "tovarishch" Nachman — ^sitting in 
 his chair and ruling — had the same identical signs of 
 self-respect, self-adoration, and independence. And — 
 with all of them — I would, without any effort, just 
 by instinct, get on their feeble side, change the whole 
 expression of my face, — even think like them, and 
 love them, — and win . The instinct of accommodation 
 is a great thing, — and, it seems to me I possess it in 
 sufficient volume. 
 
 So — accepted in the ranks of those that go wherever 
 they^wish, that do whatever their left foot feels like 
 doing, those that continue to remodel the country, 
 those that are so free in every action — I sat near the 
 powerful man,— Comrade Nachman— as equal to equal 
 
 But — ^what I really could not conceive, — ^was the 
 range of his duties; he was judge, and governor, and 
 military commander, and lawyer, and coroner, and 
 administrator of the city, and the notary public — 
 all that used to be connected with business — was his 
 
 concern They could not do it in the olden 
 
 days; they had to have a specially trained man for 
 every branch before, — and now ! 
 
 "How perfectly you perform all of these different 
 duties," I said. 
 
 230 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 42 
 
 I am a jailer; I guess the first in our family. 
 
 Together with Comrade Adolf Pashinsky, — a Pole 
 from the dreadnaught "Andrey Pervozvanny," — I 
 am walking on the Great Liberty Street, and inside 
 of the fence, watching the prisoners in the Mansion, 
 and watching to see that supreme justice — the will of 
 the people — be done. 
 
 My companion — is a muscular man of thirty, with- 
 out front teeth; his thin lips are always curved in a 
 bad smile ; his brain is such that he cannot think and 
 speak of anything that would not be vulgar and 
 vicious. 
 
 The very first night we came to change sentinels — 
 I felt embarrassed, as I do not know the ritual ; but — 
 there is nothing military about these things nowa- 
 days, all is abolished. The soldiers come to change 
 sentinels, talk freely, laugh loudly. Instead of mili- 
 tary traditions — like parole, pass-words, exchange of 
 salutes, etc., etc., — they ask: 
 
 "Ah, howdy! What are "they" (meaning the 
 prisoners) doing? Anything to look at? All right — 
 now you go, we'll stay." 
 
 They have, however, a tradition. When the 
 changed jailors are assembled near the entrance, — 
 they start to knock on the rain pipes of the Mansion 
 with their rifles, to throw sand and small stones into 
 the windows of the Heir and the Princesses. When 
 they think enough frightening has been done, they 
 
 231 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 start to sing something hidious and pornographic. 
 "She went to the ma-a-rket, 
 
 Bought a bell as a locket " 
 
 begins a thin trembling voice very calmly and even 
 bashfully, as if nothing bad will come out of this 
 quiet song. And then, suddenly, a chorus of twelve 
 big fat swine would belch the notorious refrain: 
 "Ah, you brunette of mine, 
 O-oh, curly girl of mine. ..." 
 and so forth, with the licentious words of this song 
 accompanying it with whistles and jazzing with 
 bayonettes, field-pans and general noise. 
 
 I tried to analyze all of this. Why ? Why is there 
 such a hatred for these, — this poor man, these five 
 women and a boy? Such unnecessary torture of 
 people of the past, — nothing but a man who awaits 
 the end of his tragedy, nothing but a frail boy, 
 nothing but five trembling ladies. And the picture 
 of the old woman that broke her hip on the deck — 
 and provoked laughter, comes to me. 
 
 The second day of my occupation, — it was about 
 eleven when the sentinels were changed and the night 
 was warm and bluish, the demonstration, perhaps in 
 my honor, was exceptionally noisy and obscene. 
 
 "How do you like it?" asked Pashinsky gloriously, 
 looking at me and showing, instead of teeth, a burned- 
 out cemetery in his mouth. "Don't they get enough ? 
 They just went to bed — and here is the music." 
 
 "Fine!" I answered. "Why don't we shoot? It 
 makes more noise and frightenes much more." 
 
 "We used to do so," he said with regret, "but all 
 
 232 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 these burjoois, and the popes, and the whole carrion 
 of Tobolsk did not like it. So we have decided for 
 the moment not to. Nobody can forbid singing. 
 We are free. The air belongs to the Soviet Govern- 
 ment." 
 
 Then he continued : 
 
 "You should have seen those little ones" — he 
 winked his eyes — "they got scared to death the first 
 time we sang the "Parson's Daughter" right near 
 their windows! And I'll tell you "he whis- 
 pered something in my ear. 
 
 I decided to start with him when it comes to rid 
 the world of some of these Reds. 
 
 "Good!" I said with extreme pleasure and tapping 
 him on the shoulder, "Where are their rooms?" 
 
 "Right where the white curtain hangs .... you 
 see .... one .... two .... three .... fourth 
 window on the second floor. They all are there in 
 one room, they are never alone lately. They used 
 to be on the first floor. That — ^was a holiday for us 
 boys. Everything seen, — and we would " 
 
 The smile on his face stretched from ear to ear. 
 
 "But," he continued, — "again the popes inter- 
 vened. I hope they'll croak soon. And Kobylinsky 
 consented. He is with us, of course, — but we must 
 get rid of him." 
 
 "Well, you boys have good times here," (I said 
 dreamily) "I am glad I came. It's great! All these 
 people had enough of our blood. Now — the people 
 rule themselves ! Great life !' ' 
 
 "You bet! Stay with us longer and you'll see 
 
 233 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 better things. 
 
 43 
 
 Next day, — it was about four, — Pashinsky, who 
 sticks near me thinking I am his best friend and ad- 
 mirer, punched me with his elbow and said : 
 
 "Look, look. Who is coming." 
 
 The Emperor, stooping and walking with tottering 
 steps, was passing from the garden into the house. 
 Dr. Botkin was with him. The Emperor's hands 
 were clasped behind him, his eyes were staring down- 
 wards. An old, soiled soldier's blouse of khaki 
 flannel was hanging on his spare, bowed, bony body. 
 He was walking slowly, evidently trying to appear 
 indifferent and calm. 
 
 I had not seen him for a year and a half or even 
 more. There was more gray in his whiskers, — and to 
 me, at this moment he never seemed to so strikingly 
 resemble his more fortunate English cousin. 
 
 They passed very near us. Pashinsky loudly 
 yawned and stretched right in the Emperor's face, 
 who looked at him blankly ; but under a dignified and 
 elaborate calm — I detected a spark of wounded 
 majesty. Then he looked at me, — evidently seeing 
 in me nothing but a new jailer, — ^sighed, and turned 
 his suffering face away. Dr. Botkin looked at me, 
 
 234 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 too ; he recognized me with a start. 
 
 "Ever see the bloodsucker before? Did you see 
 how I treat him?" 
 
 "Never saw him. Where in the hell could I ? . . . . 
 As for you — you certainly are some boy !" 
 
 I was so near to the Emperor that for a moment I 
 feared he could recognize me. But he did not, for he 
 glanced twice at me and — passed by. When they 
 were on the stairs, Botkin said something to him, and 
 the Emperor turned around, his eyes resting for a 
 moment on my figure. I brought up my hand, — ^so, 
 that for the Emperor — it was a salute; for Pash- 
 insky — a mosquito which I killed on my forehead. 
 Both Emperor and Botkin immediately turned away 
 and entered the Mansion. 
 
 "You watch him closer, Syva," Pashinsky said, 
 "I think we'll take him away for good pretty soon." 
 
 Today, — during my watch hours I had time to 
 make observations, especially, when the evening 
 came and the night began. 
 
 In the house silent figures were walking; these 
 delicate shadows of yesterday; later — Princess Ta- 
 tiana sat near the window with a book. 
 
 .... (line illegible) .... has not changed much. 
 From time to time she would stop turning the pages, — 
 and look — without expression, without moving — 
 down at Pashinsky and me, and at the quiet city, 
 at clear skies, at the distant golden crosses shining 
 under the moon. 
 
 There was something natural, — and yet not ordi- 
 nary, in this dark figure behind the curtain. 
 
 235 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Did she think of our black ingratitude, she who did 
 so much for the wounded soldiers and for the families 
 of those killed ? Did she think of the capricious Fate, 
 which played with her young life so nastily? Did 
 she pray — crushed, humble, and lost? Did she cry 
 for the past, or dream of the future? .... Or, per- 
 haps, in her mind was the present, — and behind 
 those noble eyebrows, were thoughts and plans to 
 fight still Perhaps there was hope? 
 
 This dark figure and the other frightened sil- 
 houettes of the endangered ladies in the Mansion, 
 surrounded by their jailers, keep me turning from 
 side to side each night. 
 
 I see crooked smiles full of rotting teeth; I see 
 perspiring low foreheads and piercing oily eyes; and 
 I know that New Russia has no compassion. 
 
 44 
 
 Nachman invited me to a dinner. Later Dutzman 
 came and brought a smirking girl with him. Nothing 
 very interesting. A girl. She sang gypsy songs 
 accompanied by a guitar. Good voice — and bad 
 manners. We had champagne, caviar and cigars, — 
 real Uppman. 
 
 "Eh," he said, "After all — this life is good ! Much 
 better even than when I was secretary of the 'Courier 
 
 236 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 of Moscow.' Of course, it is transitory Won't 
 
 you take some more, please? .... and we all will 
 be out. Perhaps those of us who will not, by that 
 time, hang, will have already some money put aside. 
 Not I — I am a spender. I can't keep this money." 
 
 He was happy and therefore talkative and sincere. 
 
 He continued "You ask how we get this 
 
 money? Easily, comrad, very easily, indeed. Be- 
 sides what we receive from Petrograd, we have other 
 incomes. For instance, here, take this case of the 
 Emperor. Why do you think we intend to send him 
 to Ekaterinburg? Why should we send him towards 
 the approaching Czechs?" 
 
 "Everything has been taken by them; they threat- 
 en to crush us if the Allies will assist them, even in 
 the slightest way. Still we send. It is a question 
 of two hundred thousand rubles, — but nobody knows 
 that I, Nachman, a scabby Jew, got about fifty 
 thousand out of them. N ow another thing : who got 
 the pay for the heavy trucks, and for the benzine, 
 and for the tents, and for the .... oh, many other 
 things! .... who got it? This very Nachman, 
 yes, comrad .... have some more, please, it's 
 good! . . . ." 
 
 45 
 
 "Quod forti placuit legis habet valorem." 
 
 Sailor Khokhriakov — the special envoy of the 
 
 237 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Sovnarkom — and his band. Here is the real danger, 
 but only in case Colonel Kobylinsky and his De- 
 tachment of Special Destination would consent to 
 join the Soviets. They all hesitate, not the Colonel, 
 however. 
 
 The meeting of the Peoples' Commissaries from 
 Petrograd (Khokhriakov) and Kaganitsky (from 
 Ural, I guess) is certainly worthy of description. I 
 went there, leaving for that reason my Mansion 
 duties — (simply by saying to Pashinsky "tell them 
 I am not coming to the Mansion as I have to attend 
 the meeting"); nowadays military service is really 
 a pleasure. 
 
 We all were sitting in the recreation room, about 
 sixty or seventy of us in all. Khokhriakov presided. 
 His neck is like a bull's, but rougher — and red. He 
 started the meeting by a thunderous "Shut up, you 
 over there!" and "Somebody open the window; who 
 in hell is smoking such .... tobacco (I omit the 
 adjective, though correct and strikingly expressive, 
 but profane)?" 
 
 The noise stopped under this voice, the windows 
 were thrown open, and our Peoples' Commissary 
 began : 
 
 "Comrades,— before us are three questions; 1st — 
 whether to release the prisoners and give them to the 
 Tobolsk people under the auspices of Comrade Koby- 
 linsky and his men, or 2d — whether to try the prison- 
 ers right here by the people's tribunal, or 3d — ^to 
 comply with some other requests — which I have the 
 authority to propose — to send the prisoners to a Ural 
 
 238 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 city. Let us proceed with the first question. I put 
 this proposition to the ballot in this way : the Tobo- 
 lians, and -amongst them the popes, the monarchists, 
 all of the counter-revolutionary trash do not want the 
 Peoples" rule. So they say that the Nikolai family 
 must be given to the Constituent Assembly. Now, 
 what in the hell of hells, do they mean by this? 
 What is a Constituant Assembly? Isn't it a crowd 
 of the same enemies of the people? Isn't this 'Par- 
 liament' against our will? Shall we, proletarians, 
 consider the question of a Constituent Assembly? 
 Would it not be an act of counter-revolution? Come 
 out here, right before me, the one that will dare to 
 propose such a thing," and the ten pound wooly fist 
 of the sailor was lifted and held for moments in the 
 filthy air of the recreation room. 
 
 This rhetorical question, in fact, was not necessary, 
 as we all, hearing the word "Proletariat" in the 
 middle of Khokhriakov's speech had already started 
 to make a noise and to applaud, the cheers densely 
 hung in the room, — and even before he said, "I 
 knew you are good proletarians and would drown 
 this proposition, God damn you, — carried," — the 
 fate of this weak and impossible thing at that time, 
 the hope for a Constituent Assembly, — was told. 
 In no way would it do. 
 
 "Now comrades," — Khokhriakov continued after 
 a short confidential chat with the curly, blond, small- 
 faced and long-eared Kaganitsky, — "comes the next 
 proposition. I warn you, however; no matter how 
 tempting this proposition is, do not make any harsh 
 
 239 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 decision. We know your zeal in Petrograd — that's 
 why we all would want you to say your word, but .... 
 if I see that someone is too zealous, I'd rather keep 
 silent if I were he. Can we try these bloodsuckers 
 here?" 
 
 An impossible noise began after his words. 
 
 "Try?"— "Why? Kill them all, that's all." "Kill 
 
 the Czar,"— "Kill the brat." "Let them go." "To 
 
 hell with ail of them." "Let's try them, of course." 
 
 'Give the women to the people." "Put their guts 
 
 out," etc., etc 
 
 "Shut up you all," shouted Khokhriakov, "let me 
 count the votes. I see you cannot decide, though 
 you all don't want the trial here! Is that so? All 
 right, as you wish, the will of people must prevail. 
 What? Who said it is not so? Come out you 
 counter-revolutionary, you monarchist, you royal 
 carrion, — come out and say it to my face, don't hide, 
 
 you " Nobody came out. This cathegorical 
 
 imperative could surpass the Kant's. . . . Kagan- 
 itzky's face, smiling, and with moving fiappy ears, 
 was in accord with this understanding, and when 
 Khokhriakov barked his — "Carried," he bowed his 
 head. 
 
 The audience was then silenced. 
 
 "Now, comrades, comes the next proposition, — to 
 send the prisoners away, — to the Ural city, probably 
 Ekaterinburg. Comrade Kaganitzky is here. He 
 says, they will be treated very well (Laughter) and 
 they will not be in danger of the Czecks, and popes, and 
 monarchists. The comrades of the detachment and 
 
 240 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Comrade Kobylinsky — agreed. How do you like this? 
 Say, who is against it? Come out!" 
 
 Free people in a free country — consented. After 
 which consent a commission under the chairmanship 
 of Kaganitzky was appointed to elaborate particulars. 
 The Detachment of Special Destination was thus 
 dissolved and Comrade Kobylinsky was allowed to 
 proceed to Petrograd. 
 
 With a headache from the noise and smoke I left 
 the court-room and went out in the City Square to 
 breathe a little fresh air. Children were playing 
 with sand and toys. Children of the New Russia! 
 Russia of free speech, free thoughts, free ways! 
 God, what will grow out of you? .... I wanted to 
 pet one of them, a little thing with gray eyes, but 
 frightened to death of a "Red" — the child yelled and 
 ran ; from a distance it shook at me a little trembling 
 fist. So — it is not so bad. 
 
 While in the garden— the court room probably 
 was emptied, as few shots were fired behind me, — on 
 the hill, and shortly after, a gala-demonstration 
 started — with a rattling of stones on the roof of the 
 Mansion, whistles, songs and a general delirium of 
 the uncontrolled and wicked mob 
 
 Feeling the bridles of the High Commissaries, 
 unable to do something to them, understanding the 
 guidance under a sauce of self government, the mob 
 was avenging itself on the inhabitants of the Mansion. 
 
 241 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 46 
 
 I wonder where Lucie is now? 
 
 Something heavy and depressing is in my mind this 
 last time ; some fog in my thoughts ; I think I am los- 
 ing my standing of a gentleman, dealing with all of 
 these people. My language has become vulgar; my 
 manners, also. 1 begin .... 
 
 (few lines scratched out) 
 
 47 
 
 .... This morning Pashinsky repeated that the 
 Em. will be taken to Ekaterinburg with the Empress 
 and the Heir. The daughters will stay here for a 
 while. "Believe me, we'll have a good time," he 
 said, offensively breathing in my face. 
 
 1 stood near the gates of the fence when Dr. Botkin 
 passed. Nobody was near me, Pashinsky having 
 gone for a drink of water into the quarters. I said 
 without turning my head : 
 
 "Decision taken to send only the Em. and Empress 
 and the Heir. Daughters will stay here." Dr. 
 Botkin did not stop. Then, as guard, I did not let 
 him in, and as if I were examining him (that was my 
 
 242 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 right) I said, "Please warn the ladies, and tell the 
 Emperor that the Commissary did not act badly ; I 
 guess there is no danger in his going away. I fear 
 for the ladies only." 
 
 "You don't mean it! They double-crossed us! 
 They assured us all would go. The scoundrels! 
 Now please let me go, — and thank you, you strange 
 man." 
 
 I let him go. 
 
 Pashinsky appeared and looked at me. "Are you 
 getting tired of this muzzle too? Isn't he a . . . .?" 
 
 "Yes," I said, "1 must watch him closer now. I 
 think we had better watch him. You stay on the 
 other side, and I'll be here near the windows. 
 
 "All right," he said. "Then we can meet here. 
 I'm going to walk from the garden to the fence, and 
 you stay right here. What is your suspicion?" 
 
 "Nothing in particular," I answered "Just 
 
 the ordinary one; I don't like him. That's all." 
 
 So we walked the way he proposed. Every time 
 he would be near the garden, he would cough in such 
 a noisy and sardonic way that the Heir, who was 
 sitting with Derevenko on the bench would turn [his 
 long, pensive face, and his old sailor guardian would 
 look with hatred on the rascal. 
 
 When Pashinsky was away, the window behind me 
 opened very cautiosly and a lady's voice said to me, 
 "Don't turn. Is it true they are to take Father 
 away? Now, I know you are a gentleman. What 
 would you advise us to do? I think we are all lost." 
 
 Pashinsky started to come back; then a Lett 
 
 243 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 passed, so the voice stopped. Pashinsky came near 
 me and said, "The Heir never cries when I tease him. 
 Believe me, he is a hard kid. What do you think if 
 I scare him more?" 
 
 "Yes," I said, "a stubborn child." "I must try 
 again," and he walked away. 
 
 The window again gave way. "Please," the same 
 voice said, "can't you give any advice to us? We are 
 so frightened ! Father is praying ; Mother's very ill ; 
 we are all alone." 
 
 "I'll write you," I said, (without moving my lips), 
 "what I think and bring it back." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 I went to Pashinsky, whose teasing was becoming 
 hideous and rough. He said to the Heir that they 
 had decided to shoot the whole family. Tears were 
 on the child's face but he kept on bravely ; he could 
 not go away — Pashinsky was at the gate. 
 
 I wished: "Just a day or two, — and I will be able 
 to do something. Oh, God! Send something to 
 stop it right now." 
 
 I guess that my prayer was heard. 
 
 The tutor's face, — one of those broad Russian 
 faces, — gradually grew purple and then grey. Slow- 
 ly, and hypnotising Pashinsky, he approached the 
 scamp, took him by the collar and pulled him towards 
 the fence. Then, losing his breath, Derevenko said, 
 "Leave the boy alone, you scoundrel! You, — you 
 
 call yourself a Russian sailor? You? Havethis " 
 
 and the slap on Pashinsky's face sounded to me like 
 Chopin's First Nocturne. What divine music! 
 
 244 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 I expected a clash. But no ! The rifle fell out of 
 Pashinsky's hands and, silent and tamed, with half- 
 closed eyes, he was waiting for another smash. 
 Then Derevenko saw me and thought I was going to 
 shoot him, but I made no such move. I slipped 
 away and went innocently towards the big gate. So, 
 when Pashinsky came to me — ^he was sure I had seen 
 nothing, and when I asked how the teasing was going 
 on, he answered: 
 
 "Oh, I let this trash go. It annoys me." 
 
 The left side of his face was inflamed and tears 
 were frozen on his eyes. It was a good one, by God! 
 
 After this incident I turned to the quarters "for a 
 drink of water" and wrote a little note that "nothing 
 bad could happen to the Princesses when they were 
 alone" and that, "I shall exert all in my power to 
 prevent any disagreeable happenings." I wrote that 
 I knew some people were working to save them. My 
 letter, I thought, would brace them up and would 
 give them an idea that there was, amongst these 
 beasts — one, that would not be an enemy. In case of 
 a struggle this idea would keep them from losing hope 
 and their power of resistance. Then I added that I 
 could be found in the hotel, and that Dr. Botkin 
 knew me. 
 
 Contemplating my scratchings, I went over to the 
 window ; somebody was patiently waiting and looking 
 around, for the voice said : 
 
 "I am so glad Derevenko slapped this awful man." 
 
 "I am too, your Highness. Now — there is a letter. 
 I'll put it on the bayonette and stay still ; you take it." 
 
 245 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 Pashinsky passed near me talking with another 
 Red. He felt badly I am sure, — he did not look at 
 me. 
 
 I rolled the piece of paper, stuck it on the edge of 
 the sharp bayonette and putting the rifle on my 
 shoulder, directed it towards the window. I felt 
 when it was taken. Then I joined my fellow jailers. 
 
 48 
 
 Today I saw a man who resembled strikingly the 
 Tumen Russian of the profane language. And it 
 reminded me very much of the Ls., of the English 
 officer, of the fellow with dark eyeglasses — and of 
 Lucie. I felt abandoned again. So I went to the 
 Church, but then turned back : I cannot go in, for it 
 might spoil my reputation of a Red. However, I 
 stood for a bit near the doors and listened to the 
 singers, and then decided to go to the Catholic 
 church, for only Russian Reds must not pray ; Polish 
 Reds happen to have this privilege. 
 
 There is no difference in fact. I wanted to be 
 closer to something elevated. 
 
 The lights were so quiet and peaceful looking in the 
 dark church through high-colored windows. There 
 were not many people in their church, so I could con- 
 centrate. But instead of a Christian quiet, I got 
 something else. I guess the idea came to me when 
 I thought that Pashinsky was a Pole. 
 
 246 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 I began to think that I could not do very much 
 here, — ^but still something. They will try to annoy 
 the Princesses, and I must protect them. Thus — 
 my staying here will be justified. If Pashinsky or 
 the Letts should do something that would be bad, 
 I'll kill them, — or some of them. When I thought of 
 it, I looked at the Holy Faces; the sun came out of 
 the white clouds, the rays fell on the walls, — and the 
 Faces smiled at me. "Yes," I thought, "if my de- 
 cision is not agreeable, — the sun will hide behind the 
 clouds again. I'll wait for five minutes" — the sun 
 did not hide, — ^so — ^this was accepted. Then I tried 
 to figure how to do it, and found a way. I'll get 
 Pashinsky at the first attempt. 
 
 My God, what nonsense I think of ! . . . . 
 
 49 
 
 Schtolz. Jackson. Vieren. The man with the 
 wounded leg. Kitser. Dutzman. Khokhriakov. 
 Fost. Pashinsky. Kart. Fedor. Laksman. Vassiliev 
 (son). Kobylinsky. Perkel. Niestadt. Cymes. 
 Leibner. Vert. Wang-Lee. Frenkel. The fat Kister. 
 Vygardt .... 
 
 (a few lines scratched out) 
 
 247 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 50 
 
 The "Kitai" was at the pier when we — the de- 
 tachment of twelve, guarding a silent man and a 
 hysterical woman — came there under the cover of 
 night; it was raining, though the air was warm. 
 The Irtysh stood fragrant with this odor of a big, 
 noble river. The waters — in which sank Yermak 
 under his heavy corselet — the same waters were 
 carrying toward the unknown — the Imperial Family. 
 
 Though their departure was supposed to be made 
 in secrecy, there was a crowd of people on the pier — 
 we tried to chase them away, but they stood there. 
 An ascetic figure was standing on the next pier, lit 
 only by a few lanterns. This black figure lifted a 
 cross and blessed the Emperor, who tenderly released 
 his hand from the spasmatic grip of his terrified 
 wife and made the sign of the cross. 
 
 "Quit that, Reverend scoundrel," I heard Kho- 
 khriakov's voice. "Who asked you to come?" 
 
 The priest answered : 
 
 "Thou knowest not what thou art committing." 
 
 "Ah, shut up! To hell with your citations, you 
 old idiot! 
 
 "Take him down over there. Isn't there anyone 
 to choke him?" continued Khokhriakov bending over 
 the hand-rails. ' This ass is propagating, — don't you 
 see, comrades?" 
 
 No one, however, moved. This crowd around the 
 Bishop all answered. Their answer, — a blunt 
 
 248 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 roaring, — ^sounded like distant thunder and there 
 was such a frightening unity in this dull noise, — 
 that I had the shivers. 
 
 "You cowards!" bellowed the sailor, "I'll have to 
 come back and finish with the pope myself! It will 
 not be the first one, anyhow. It's too late now! 
 Be damned you all! Go ahead!" The gangplanks 
 dropped. 
 
 The steamer started to move. 
 
 The priest stood still blessing her passengers, — the 
 Emperor, the Empress, the bolsheviki, — ^the crew, — 
 all, all of them. And, wet under the rain, this figure 
 vested in black, with a shiny cross lifted high in the 
 air, will for a long time remain in my memory. 
 
 The Mansion was black ; not a light in the windows. 
 The four girls, left alone in this nest of rattlesnakes, — 
 were probably sitting in some far distant corner, — 
 crying, trembling, praying, — and waiting for the 
 worst, which they feared was coming. 
 
 51 
 
 To kill a man ? Nothing more agreeable if it is the 
 right one, — I should say! And in such country 
 where the trial is impossible. I did not know I ever 
 could, — but 
 
 Pashinsky started soon after the Emperor was 
 taken. He and Post asked me for a conference be- 
 hind the quarters, when we were waiting to change 
 
 249 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 the watchmen. Both had a confidential expression 
 on their faces. 
 
 "You see here, Syva, — what is planned. You and 
 Fost stay under the windows, and go around, just as 
 you please. I'll go upstairs, and listen. If there is 
 no one around I'll call you up. I know that they are 
 all alone. 
 
 I consented, and when they left I wrote a note: 
 "Si, se soir, quelcun tache de forcer I' entree de votre 
 chambre, je vous implore de rester calme et sure que je 
 suis avec Vous et Vos soeurs a vous proteger. Ne 
 craignez rien, ne criez pas!" I wrote it in French in 
 order to assure them of the faith in me — and prove 
 my identity — and signed my real name. 
 
 It looked funny to me ; I think now I am Syvorotka, 
 — honestly Syvorotka, formerly of the 7th of Hussars ! 
 
 I went out and looked around. The Pole and the 
 Lett were talking and gazing from time to time at the 
 upper windows. Then the Pole approached: "How 
 much would you take from me not to go up at all, 
 and let me do it alone?" and then, becoming sweet 
 and fawning — . 
 
 "You see, Syva," he said, "Fost consented. Why 
 shouldn't you? I'll give you just as much." 
 
 "Did you consent, Fost?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes," said the Lett, digging in his short nose, "I 
 did. I have grown-up daughters at home. I can- 
 not. Besides he gives me money, so why shouldn't 
 I ? I will stay in the corridor and won't let anybody 
 come in, on this side of the House. I know nothing 
 of your business. Go on, have your pleasure." 
 
 250 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 "No, Pashinsky," I said, "that will not do. I 
 must be with you. I have to protect you besides, 
 you idiot; Fost can only see what is in the house, 
 but supposing someone comes from down here? 
 You think they will forget such an outrage to the 
 Soviets ? I will be with you somewhere behind, and 
 when you call me I will come out. Hope you won't 
 forget me." 
 
 Pashinsky thought over my proposition for a 
 second, — thinking was a strenuous effort for him. 
 His obscene face wore a suffering and preocupied 
 expression ; then he said : 
 
 "I think you are right. We'll let Fost stay and 
 watch the inner doors, and you and I will be alone in 
 this side of the house. Then the men on the streets 
 can't catch us, and we will be protected from the 
 inside too " 
 
 Then he had some idea. A bad one, I am sure! 
 
 "All right, that's a good way, anyhow. Now I am 
 going to take a bath, — I need it. If somebody asks 
 for me, say so." 
 
 The Lett and I remained. I stood for half an hour 
 near my window, — then it opened. I fixed the note 
 on the bayonette and it went to its destination. 
 
 After, a voice said : 
 
 "Mister * * *, we are afraid! What can we do? 
 Do you think that you can protect us? Please tell 
 the truth, don't try to console us." 
 
 "I am sure, your Highness," I said, "please don't 
 worry." 
 
 The voice continued: "They took out the keys 
 
 251 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 from the doors. We cannot even lock ourselves in, 
 or hide. Can't you tell this to" the Budishchev's — 
 perhaps they can do something?" 
 
 "You shouldn't try to hide, and there is no use to 
 tell it to anybody, believe me. Be in the room on the 
 second floor and wait there. I will be on the watch 
 as I said." 
 
 — "You know better perhaps, — we believe you." 
 
 With a "Thank you so much" and "We are so 
 frightened!" repeated with despair and horror, the 
 window closed. 
 
 I had to invent something, and invent quickly, 
 for I had no plan as yet. 
 
 The Browning was with me but I reserved it for the 
 last chance, and I decided to keep it loaded to finish 
 some of the Reds — and myself — if it should come to 
 an open fight. With such thoughts I was desperately 
 rambling within the fence. 
 
 My vague plan was to come right after Pashinsky 
 and knock him on the head with something heavy, — 
 then I rejected this project: the scoundrel could yell 
 and I would be discovered. I came to the quarters 
 and looked around. It was the office of Tanaevsky 
 before occupied by us. In the classic disorder, with 
 an inch of cigarette butts and dust on the floor, 
 among the remnants of the Governor's House stored 
 here, I saw a gold metallic rope cord which in better 
 times had been used to support the heavy drapery of 
 the reception room. The idea of a silent strangu- 
 lation came into my head with the picture of Jacol- 
 liot's Thugs. I cut the tassel away and put it under 
 
 252 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 somebody's pillow, and hid the rope in my bosom. 
 
 At seven Pashinsky finally came back, surprisingly 
 clean, shaven, and smelling of some cheap and pene- 
 trating perfume. He was slightly drunk. When 
 clean, — he looked to me a thousand times worse. 
 
 Neither Pashinsky, nor I, could wait until the 
 night came. He was continually repeating what I 
 should do, and continually asking me whether I 
 thought everything was safe. Finally night arrived. 
 At nine the lights in the Mansion were put out — all 
 but in one window. I knew how hearts were beating 
 there : mine was echoing. 
 
 — "I am going, Syva," Pashinsky whispered. "I 
 can't wait any longer — all is burning inside of me. " 
 
 He put his rifle behind the rain-pipe, straightened 
 his belt, and started towards the entrance door. 
 
 The door of the Mansion squeaked and swallowed 
 him, and before I heard him walking up the stairs I 
 followed him. 
 
 All was dark inside, only a feeble light from the 
 court penetrated through the windows. We passed 
 the corridor, then a large room, then a small room. 
 Here Pashinsky stopped — and I heard his heavy 
 breathing. Then he threw open the door. 
 
 I saw mattresses on the floor and in a far corner 
 pale, trembling figures, glued together by fear. 
 
 Pashinsky hesitated for a moment — to pick out the 
 one he wanted — and then with an outcry, suddenly 
 rushed to this mass of helpless panic-stricken 
 bodies, and a struggle between a delirious man, 
 feebled by desire, and these ladies, began. 
 
 253 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 I jumped on him from behind; preoccupied, he did 
 not feel when I put the rope around his neck so that 
 the collar wouldn't be in my way, tightened my 
 weapon in a deadlock and dragged him away — almost 
 before his carnal touch contaminated the Prin- 
 cesses — into the next room, and shut the doors. 
 
 He was making some efforts to free himself, hitting 
 my knees with his heels, and growling from rage; 
 then he bit me in the hand. But in a minute I was 
 already firmly sitting on his back, with my knees on 
 his awkwardly turned arms, twisting the rope with 
 all of the strength I had. 
 
 "Please, don't kill him," I heard a sobbing whisper- 
 ing voice say, and other voices, too, repeated the 
 "don't kill." 
 
 This Kerensky idea made me quite angry and I 
 said as calmly as 1 could under the circumstances : 
 
 "With all of my reverence for your order, your 
 Highnesses, I refuse to obey. Please shut the doors 
 and don't wake up the others, — 1 have my own 
 accounts to settle." And when the doors closed, I 
 kept tightening and tightening the rope until his 
 head turned and his tongue, — rough and dry, — 
 came way out and was touching my hands, and his 
 face became hot and wet. He made a few convulsive 
 movements — and became still. 
 
 When his head fell with a dull sound on the floor, 
 I took him out under cover of the night, and threw 
 his body into the well. I walked out onto Tuliats- 
 kaya Street and chatted for a while with Leibner 
 and Vert. 
 
 254 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 I was changed and nobody asked me where my 
 friend Pashinsky was. 
 
 52 
 
 Comrade Fost was shot yesterday at nine in the 
 morning for murder. It was a glorious inspiration 
 to put the tassel under his pillow. In the afternoon 
 we buried Pashinsky. I gave my share for a wreath 
 with red ribbons and the inscription "To him who fell 
 for Proletariat — ^Long live the International," and 
 was present at the funeral . Dutzman made a speech ; 
 a very pathetic one. 
 
 In the evening the sentinels were doubled. There 
 are lights in every room now. There was a light in 
 every corridor. The ladies — are, — for the moment 
 being, out of immediate danger. The Soviet de- 
 cided to transport all to Ekaterinburg, — as soon as a 
 steamer will be available. 
 
 Today Nachman called on me. He took me to the 
 Square and when we were sitting on a bench, he said, 
 that "It was well done" ("that's all right, sir, per- 
 fectly all right"), but if he were in my place he would 
 go away. "It's easy," he continued, — "supposing 
 I give you a good letter of recommendation to my 
 people in Ekaterinburg? The interesting part of all 
 of this, — ^believe me, has started only. Don't fear 
 me, — this scabby Jew, this very Nachman, — ^will not 
 betray." 
 
 255 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 I thought it over and said : 
 
 "I would do so, if I only could leave some trace 
 here. A friend may ask for me here, and I would be 
 sore if she could not find me, — if she only cares." 
 
 "Oh, she will," he laughed, "she will. Of course, 
 I am not posted in your personal affairs, but — a lady 
 always can yind one, i/ she cares. Ha-ha-ha! Youth 
 is always youth! But you better go without leaving 
 traces " 
 
 I continued: 
 
 "Nachman, there is another thing. Here is an 
 old man, — a friend of mine, — he is very sick. His 
 days are numbered, and I feel very sorry for him. 
 If I go away all will be lost for this old chap; he has 
 nobody in this world. Could you use your power and 
 place him in a hospital ? I will give you money, of 
 course, — I have some." 
 
 Nachman sighed : "This is so out of time ! Nowa- 
 days love and charity are much more dangerous than 
 murders and thefts." 
 
 Then after a pause, he continued; 
 
 "Very well, friend, I will take care of your man. 
 Hand me the money." 
 
 Then he gave me a letter to his friends in Ekaterin- 
 burg (it was ready in his pocket) and we parted. 
 
 I am free, happy, independent, with a good 
 standing amongst the present Russians. And if only 
 she could be near me ... . but there is no perfect 
 happiness on this strangest of planets of ours. 
 
 256 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 53 
 
 (pages missing) 
 
 .... heavy trucks, and other military para- 
 phernalia. Some of the men on them surely are not 
 Russians, Letts, or Germans, or ... . 
 {nine lines scratched out) 
 
 .... I don't know whether it was Nachman's 
 talk or the truth. 
 
 Anyhow I am going away, — again alone, — alone 
 forever. Damn life! I cannot look backwards — I 
 feel sorry for my past; the present — is sufficiently 
 bad not to speak of it; the future — is just as dark — 
 as this night. Not a star, not a single star. 
 
 The old man was taken to the People's Hospital 
 this afternoon. He thanked me. 
 
 54 
 
 .... starting rumors of the killing of the whole 
 Family, and always emphasizing that this tragedy — 
 was the supreme penalty brought to the altar by the 
 Emperor. 
 
 Nachman, and others, who — it seems to me, know 
 what they are talking about, foresee many chances; 
 the best of them, is of course the fact, that some .... 
 
 {few lines scratched out) 
 .... are in this enterprise, and therefore it might 
 
 257 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 be crowned with success. I really do not know what 
 to think. Only one point is clear : I cannot believe 
 that our sufferings, the sufferings of the whole country, 
 are unknown beyond our frontiers. They must be 
 known; the tears shed cannot during so long a time 
 fall on stones, — even stones get wet. If they are not 
 known, — these sufferings, — if our hands stretched for 
 help are not seen, if we are condemned just for the 
 only fact that we are Russians, — and if ... . 
 (a page missing) 
 
 55 
 
 .... knocked at the door. I hardly had time to 
 say "enter," when something enveloped in a thick 
 brown overcoat rolled in, jumped at me and in a 
 second covered all of my face with hot kisses. I 
 answered them very attentively. 
 
 Then I noticed that the amiable creature was Lucie. 
 
 "No, you don't hate me! No, you don't hate me! 
 I know it! I knew it! . . . ." 
 
 "Lucie," I said, "before we proceed, please let me 
 put some of these papers in my pockets." 
 
 "Alex! Don't remind me of that! How did you 
 dare to write such stories about me? You can't 
 blame me, can you?" 
 
 "Perhaps I don't — for some pages you destroyed. 
 How about the chart, and about the? . . . ." 
 
 She covered my mouth with her hands. "If we 
 
 258 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 recollect everything it will be endless. And besides 
 I don't think I took anything from you. Let's for- 
 get! I'll forgive you, if you promise me not to write 
 nasty stories about your Lucie." 
 
 I promised, and consented, of course. How can I 
 do otherwise? No use! 
 
 I put her near me, poured her some tea and offered 
 her the cookies. 
 
 For a time we looked at each other. She certainly 
 looked like a peasant girl ! 
 
 "How do you like this costume?" she said. "Next 
 bal masque I certainly will wear this kind, you may 
 be sure. Of course all of this, and that must be 
 chiffon, and silk, and . . . ." A woman cannot get 
 on without these chats. On the other hand — woman 
 speaks to the man about it with a concealed con- 
 tempt: what does a man understand? She does not 
 get angry when she sees that the man does not listen ; 
 he only looks. 
 
 "Now," — ^she said, gazing around with a dear 
 grimace, — "again in your element, in dirt? What 
 shall I do with you, Alex? I can't stand it!" 
 
 "Dirt is my protection, dear. Why did you leave? 
 Don't run away any more." 
 
 "We will see about it. But first — what are you 
 doing here? Are you following me? Don't you 
 think I saw you here? Why do you risk your life? 
 How did you think of leaving Tumen? How is your 
 cook?" 
 
 "Do your questions give me the same right of 
 investigation? I'll answer you, anyhow. I've de- 
 
 259 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 cided to lay down my cards, Lucie. I came here on 
 business. I broke all ties. Nobody wants me. I 
 am investigating at my own expense, at my own risk, 
 out of curiosity only. But I am free. Don't you 
 need me? Don't you need a friend? Can't we live 
 without deceiving each other, without robbing, — eh? 
 I came here, Lucie, — and behind all of my intentions 
 was one thing only : I hoped to find you, and tell you 
 how much I love you. I knew you had to be near 
 the center, and the center is, at least now — ^here. 
 Don't lie to me, bad girl, I know what I am talking 
 about. Now — when I think we again will part — I 
 have chills ; especially when I think of your manner 
 of going away: pinning a "good-by" to the cushion. 
 Please, let us be together!" 
 
 "You should not tempt me, Alex. I feel just as 
 you do, only — I don't think I can even dream of our 
 being together — right now, I mean. What will be 
 after — ^we'll see." 
 
 "Cannot you arrange something for me so that I 
 could be with you in your business? Did not you 
 ask me before to do so? Now — I come to you." 
 
 "It's true, I did. Things have changed. Can you 
 believe me when I swear I am telling the truth? 
 Yes? You'll try? Well, I wanted you in Petro- 
 grad — ^you fascinated me; that was all, — and if then, 
 after being with us, you had come to know too much 
 and something had happened to you, I would, of course, 
 have been sorry, — but, — how shall I say it? Not 
 too much. In Tumen, — you know I came to Syvor- 
 otka with certain purposes : you described them well 
 
 260 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 in your diary, so well that I had to put my censorship 
 on them, — I did not suspect Syvorotka was — you " 
 
 I made an impatient movement. "Again your 
 fairy tale?" 
 
 "Alex!" she exclaimed, "I conjure you to believe 
 me! Can't you see? Get me to tell you the truth 
 when I am so happy as now ! 1 could not lie to you ! 
 So that's how I came to Tumen. You were there, 
 and you know what happened. Now — don't laugh 
 at me, — I understand that you risked too much, — 
 and I ran away, because I saw — I loved you. I'd die 
 if 1 knew something had happened to you on account 
 of me. I told them that you had gone to Kazan, or 
 Nijni, that you had turned into a real bolshevik. 
 They think you are out. For them — ^you are lost. 
 And they must not see you here." 
 
 "Who are 'they'? And how about you knowing 
 too much?" I inquired. "Your mysteries don't 
 sound grave anyhow." 
 
 "Alex, — I'll be angry! Again you ask silly things." 
 
 So I kissed her and asked how Stanley was and the 
 Russian and the Letts, and the pony. 
 
 "Poor little thing! It died. We tried to reach 
 Tobolsk with it." 
 
 "Your Stanley poisoned it with his chimney," I 
 said. 
 
 "Don't hold anything against him, Alex. He is a 
 good fellow. And don't be jealous, you bad, dirty, 
 lovable crank. He still thinks you are a Canadian." 
 
 "He never thinks. He fancies." 
 
 She laughed. "Yes, you are jealous. It is silly 
 
 261 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 of you, but agreeable. I did not know you could be." 
 
 "Now, let's be serious. You can't stay here. I 
 must insist on your going away, — dear, for your own 
 sake, — for our sake ! I promise it won't be for a long 
 time, — perhaps it will only seem so, if you love me ! 
 Don't say no. Can't you picture how happy we can 
 be afterwards? How somewhere away from here we 
 
 could marry, and You must go away. Why 
 
 not go to England, or Japan, or Sweden? Just a trip?" 
 
 "How funny you talk!" I said. "Listen to my 
 reasons. One: I must stay near you. Two: I must 
 see the end of this tragedy. Three : I must close my 
 bit of an account with some people. Four: All I 
 have is not enough to pay for this room, — ^so no trips 
 for me. Five: . . . ." 
 
 "Stop! Stop!" she exclaimed, and crawling into 
 my lap, continued: 
 
 "My poor boy! That — is killing! I know why 
 you are so poor ! You spent every penny on others ! 
 You had some earnings! And to think of all you 
 were bringing to me in Tumen .... then you did 
 not care even, but just to be hospitable to an in- 
 truder And other things How can I 
 
 repay you! . . . ." 
 
 "There are no reasons for crying on this account. 
 Forget it please. Don't put me in the light of a 
 benefactor, — I hate it." 
 
 "No, no! I feel so guilty now. I'll give you 
 money." 
 
 "Don't offend me. All I want is not to be an 
 idiot in the future and not to lose you. So I have 
 
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RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 said it,— and it is said. When it comes to stubborness — 
 I hardly think anybody could beat me. So just 
 understand: / am going to stay where you are, and if 
 you try this time to get away, I'll have to take 
 measures. I'll kidnap you. I'll put you in a place 
 where no 'Navy-Cut' is smoked. Now — it is serious. 
 Understand?" 
 
 We talked, and argued, and even quarrelled, and 
 again made peace, until she declared herself beaten. 
 Maybe she was angry; perhaps scared; but surely 
 greatly flattered. A woman is a woman — always 
 flattered when she sees persistence. She consented 
 to take me into her game. I had to swear, and cross 
 my heart, and give endless words of honor, — all that 
 for a position of a traffic man, like the one in Tumen. 
 I had to swear that no cooks, or maids, or ladies 
 (especially ladies!) would distract me from the 
 thought of her. Very selfish, but understandable. 
 It was late, when she left me. 
 
 "Alex," she said on the threshold, — "Please don't 
 talk. Do not write, please! You'll have time to 
 finish your diary, and write even a series of books on 
 the subject afterwards. Maybe I'll help you even. 
 Close your diary. Give it to me, I'll hide it! . . . ." 
 
 "Is that so?" I said, — "there is nothing now that 
 would be of interest to you." 
 
 "Everything interests me, dear. Aren't you mean 
 to your Lucie? .... Very well, hide it yourself, 
 burn it, if you can't hide it. Can't you keep in your 
 mind your impressions? Do you promise? Con- 
 sider me too!" 
 
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RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 ' ' I promise. I'll do it. I must only write all about 
 this evening. Every word. This evening I almost 
 trust you. It is of historical value therefore." 
 
 She gave her consent. 
 
 When the door closed after her, and my lips were 
 still burning, hideous phantoms of doubt poured into 
 the room; they tortured me, and sneered at me, and 
 kept me awake 
 
 And with the pale rose of the first sunrays the 
 phantoms of doubt left me exhausted, miserable and 
 helpless like a wet cat. 
 
 Translator s note. 
 
 With paragraph 55 ends the diary of Syvorotka. 
 
 Among his documents, however, has been found 
 the following letter, not in his characteristic hand- 
 writing, but in that of someone else, bearing directly 
 upon the incidents narrated by the diarist. Written in 
 ungrammatical Russian, bearing many orthographic 
 mistakes, this document seems to be a fragment of a 
 report, by some unidentified co-operating agent, to 
 his unrevealed superior. 
 
 It is deemed necessary, therefore, for purposes of 
 clearness, to append this document, as I find it 
 among the literary remains of Al. Syvorotka : 
 
 264 
 
RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 56 
 
 .... "four or five days after your departure, I 
 gave the story to P. D. ; he took it to the E * * * *; 
 the latter made but a few corrections in it, and P. D. 
 copied it, — as you ordered : with different ink, and on 
 different paper. The fourteenth passed quietly. 
 The new man who took command of the guards and 
 his assistant, assembled the men and organized a 
 meeting ; Sy vorotka was present. Some of the people 
 spoke of the "hidden treasury"; some spoke of the 
 People's Tribunal; some insisted upon a wholesale 
 killing, — for the loyals and the Czechs are rapidly 
 approaching, and from everywhere come rumors 
 about uprisings. Finally it was decided to try the 
 Family immediately. 
 
 The next day we were busy with the trucks; 
 towards evening all of them were in shape including 
 the Number 74-M in which you ordered the change 
 of magneto, and ready to move. So you see — we have 
 done what you ordered, and if all happened so that we 
 could not foresee, it was not my fault, nor Syvorot- 
 ka's, nor Phillip's. 
 
 All the day of the 16th the investigation continued, 
 andtheCommissaries asked for the E * * * * twice; 
 once four men went to Ipatiev's; their conduct was 
 outrageous. At eight in the evening I was on my post 
 in the red house, the wires were working fine and 
 Philip answered. Nachman's place answered too. 
 
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RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 At nine I signalled to the Ipatiev's, and Princess 
 waved "all well," but could not continue for a Red 
 came to the window and shut it with a baynoet. It 
 had already begun to get very dark, so I 'phoned again 
 to Philip and Syvorotka and asked them whether 
 they had orders to start. I was told that they had 
 not heard anything from the house. I decided to 
 wait a little longer and then to 'phone to Tikhvinsky 
 to inquire whether or not the Nun was on her place, 
 so I could go and investigate why S-y did not start. 
 At ten I called up, but the 'phone was dead. While 
 I was waiting for some movement about the house, 
 Philip himself came and said that S-y had ordered 
 him to remove the trucks away out of the city. 
 Philip refused to do so, and tried to reach me by 
 'phone but it was out of order, so he left Syvorotka 
 in charge and came to ask me personally. While we 
 were trying to digest what all of this meant and what 
 should be done, a movement began in the house; 
 lights flickered in the windows and shortly after- 
 wards, we distinctly heard the report of a revolver. 
 As this looked bad we both left and ran across the 
 place, but the Reds would not let anybody in. Al- 
 ready there were about fifteen men trying to break 
 down the fence. The inside guards resisted and 
 some shots were exchanged. The assailants were 
 Reds, asking for "a treasury." and some of them 
 were asking for the Family as it was rumored that 
 they had already been killed. 
 
 Seeing that nothing could be done from this side 
 I went to the rear and squeezed in, for Ch. was there 
 
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RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 and he let me do so ; but he said that he had heard 
 shots inside and that he thought all was finished, 
 and said also that Leinst and three others went to 
 search in Syvorotka's home — they evidently don't 
 know that all was taken out yesterday. In the house 
 I found complete commotion. The family had 
 disappeared, and no one knew where or how. Pyt- 
 kan was shot in the stomach and in the throat and I 
 saw him lying on the floor in the room. Khokhria- 
 kov and his men were shaking the rest of his life out 
 of him, asking where the E. and the jewelry were, but 
 all that Pytkan could say was "they were taken 
 away." No one could make out what really had 
 happened and who had shot him ; some said that they 
 went away in trucks, yet, in the evening, some that 
 a detachment sent by the Soviet took them secretly 
 out, some said aeroplanes. All were wrong, for 
 Philip had just come back and the trucks were in 
 place, no one came into the Ipatiev's house as I was 
 on guard, and there had been no aeroplanes since six 
 o'clock. Pytkan was almost dead when Khokhria- 
 kov finally got from him that the family had been 
 shot and taken away — and then he began to expire. 
 Later the German appeared and chased us all away, — 
 he sent for his assistant, but they could not find him. 
 The family disappeared, — it is true; there was no 
 trace of them. I continued to look everywhere up 
 to the time that the Soviet representatives arrived, 
 having been ordered to arrest all people who were 
 with the family, and commenced searching for the 
 bodies. The whole place was surrounded by Reds, 
 
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RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 and all were ordered out, but nothing was there. 
 Then a resolution was made that the prisoners had 
 been taken away and shot, and they sent a wire to 
 Moscow. I only know that inside the house they 
 killed two people and nobody else, anyhow. Pytkan 
 and Kramer were dead; Kramer probably had been 
 shot from a distance — the bullet was in his head. 
 There were no more than two men killed, I know it ; 
 so you may feel sure, when you hear that all were 
 killed in the house that it is a lie. Somebody must 
 have been burning things in the stove long before — 
 maybe in the daytime or the early evening ; the stove 
 was almost cold, — the Reds got something out of it, 
 I did not see what it was. When I understood that 
 the whole family had been taken away, dead or alive, 
 or had somehow disappeared, and that there was 
 nothing for us to do, I took Philip and we rushed 
 back to Syvorotka. The trucks and the chauffeurs 
 were all gone. In the garage we found Syvorotka 
 tied with a rope and shot in the spine, and bleeding 
 from scratches and other wounds. From the appear- 
 ance of the garage we understood that there had been 
 a struggle, but he could not speak comprehensively; 
 all we got from him were moanings, separate phrases 
 and words like "treason," "run away," "leave me die 
 here," etc., etc., — ^hewas decidedly raving and very 
 weak. We helped him as best we could and came 
 back to the city at about five in the morning and 
 Philip went to Nachman's. They both reported 
 that shortly after two o'clock, three of the trucks 
 passed on the highway to Sysertsky Works. Some 
 
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RESCUING THE CZAR 
 
 people were in them, and the Nachmans thought it 
 was our affair, for the rumors had already reached 
 them that the family had disappeared or had been 
 executed. This Sysertsky direction is more or less 
 correct for I know from Syvorotka that supplies were 
 lately being sent continuously with him tp Tubiuk. 
 This way also went Syvofotka's woman. 
 
 S-y and all the rest left, — some people say in the 
 evening, some early in the morning of the 1 7th. 
 
 Maybe something could be told by Syvorotka if he 
 ever survives his wounds, and if the Reds do not find 
 him and finish him before they leave, for he is under 
 suspicion. He still is unconscious, and has fever. 
 All Philip and I know is that either all our organ- 
 ization has failed to succeed, or we were all betrayed 
 and sold, or that you intentionally detracted our 
 attention from the truth. 
 
 This letter will be given to you by Mrs. Nachman 
 who is going tonight to Ufa. As soon as the Reds 
 leave Ekaterinburg we will both follow, — ^we are 
 hiding now, — and will report on the facts that we wit- 
 nessed and the rumors we heard. 
 
 269