they had asked me about the details of the occurrences in Vladivostok, Colonel Zaremba remarked with apparent irrelevance:
"Remember the service car will always be ready and waiting for you."
"But I have no journey in view."
"I strongly advise you to go away. Anxious times are at hand," added von Ziegler.
To my expression of inquiry an eloquent glance was the only answer; and, after shaking my hand, they went away. Two days passed. One might have inferred that everything was quiet. But earfy on the morning of January 16th Captain von Ziegler came to my house and, in broken phrases, began to whisper:
"A train goes at two o'clock to the south. … I shall order your car to be attached to it. … Get out at once, for Heaven's sake. Go anywhere. … I can say no more … but go!" He rushed out of the room without even looking back.
I realized that something serious was brewing and, directing my manservant to put a few necessary articles into a small valise, went at once to the house of Nowakowski, who lived quite near me. I wanted to seek his advice and perhaps to go away together with him, after we had arrived at an understanding with the other associates in our stormy revolutionary career.
I knocked at the door, but for a long time no one answered. Then one of the windows was first opened just a slight crack and, after a second, enough to allow the head of my friend's old cook to be thrust warily out. An evil presentiment took control of me, as I hurried to the window and demanded:
"What is the matter?"
"Hush!" she whispered in a quaver of fear and excite-
