"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! I 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 I 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 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 intruder.... 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 said it,--and it is said. When it comes
to stubbornness--I hardly think anybody could beat me. So just
understand: _I 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? Consider me too!"
"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 handwriting, 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:
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; Syvorotka 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 Syvorotka's, nor Phillip's.
All the day of the 16th the investigation continued, and the
Commissaries 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.
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 bayonet. 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 afterwards, 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. Already 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 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. Pytkan was shot in the
stomach and in the throat and I saw him lying on the floor in the
room. Khokhriakov 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
Khokhriakov 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, 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 appearance 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.,--he was 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 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 to Tubiuk. This way also went Syvorotka's
woman.
S-y and all the rest left,--some people say in the evening, some early
in the morning of the 17th.
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 organization
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
witnessed and the rumors we heard."