"That's a family to be proud of," he said warmly. "D'you hear from them?"
"Not since the Dardanelles were closed. Will you take a couple of letters for me?"
"That I will. And I'll see you get the answers. I'm going to Petrograd next week--then to France. I'll be back here next spring. Meanwhile, there are other men doing the work. Tell your brothers to send through our office in Moscow. Here's the address." He produced a card, then a pencil. "On the back I'll write mine, in Paris, where you'll always get me." He scribbled a couple of lines and handed her the card. "Now you keep that and don't forget to let me know, either there, or through our Moscow office, when you want anything."
"Thanks awfully. I'll take great care of the card and will fetch the letters for my brothers. They are ready."
He followed her and waited in the corridor. When she came back he said, hesitatingly:
"Excuse a personal question; but have you got any cash?"
"A certain amount."
"How much?"
"Oh, about five hundred roubles--and my cheque-book."
"The cheque-book won't do you much good." His comely, rather heavy face flushed. "Look here I'm a banker at home----"