my comrades that I should at once deal with the Little Committee and left the room. It was only the work of a few moments to telephone to my house and have my coachman Nicholas, a young and clever lad, before the building with my drosky drawn by the white Nizam. I ordered him to drive to the headquarters of the Little Committee. We rattled rapidly through the sleeping town until we began threading our way through the labyrinth of narrow streets in the quarter near the railway workshops and finally drew up before a long, old barracks, where the sessions of the Little Committee were held.
Through the dirty panes of the windows I could discern a rather numerous gathering, seated around a big table and engaged in a lively discussion. Quietly tiptoeing closer, I made out among them the local chairman of the Union of the Russian Nation. I ordered Nicholas to keep watch through the window and, when I should take off my cap, to run up and down outside and make a great outcry.
With these preparations made, I flung the door sharply open and entered. My appearance was so unexpected that all of them jumped to their feet and stood as though waiting for me to make the next move. This lasted but a few seconds, when a man with a cap pulled low over his eyes, who stood behind the table, snatched up the revolver which was lying among the papers before him and fired at me. The bullet whistled somewhere near but only buried itself in the wall. Nicholas then came to my rescue by pummelling the window frame with his fists, running up and down with shouts and cries and generally giving the impression that I had a large company of supporters outside. Again everyone was petrified.
"Arrest this man!" I commanded, pointing out the
