September 2nd. Brede Place.
I have been here since Monday. Papa is away in Ireland fishing, Mamma is here and believes that I am still going yachting and that a telegram will call me away at any minute. As no wire has yet come and I cannot bear the suspense, I have decided to go up to London for the day, and shall go straight to Kameneff’s office from the station so that I shall know soon whether we start for Russia on Saturday or not. If we do I shall not come back here.
I wonder what it will be. To-night, when I said good night to him, Dick clung to me more even than usual, and we talked together for a long time. He held me tight. I was kneeling on the ground beside his bed with my arms round him. He said that he could not bear to let me go to-morrow, and that he would tie me up to a wall. He was so very sweet, and I felt a great reluctance at leaving him.
September 3rd.
I went up to London and drove straight to the Bolshevik office in Bond Street, and left my luggage waiting outside in the taxi. Unlike the previous occasion, I was not shown straight in to Kameneff. I sat down and waited in the outer room which was full of men, six or seven of them, and they began discussing me in Italian, French, German and Russian! I tried to look dignified and aloof, and was, I am sure, a great failure as a Bolshevik. All my English conventional breeding took hold of me. Then later Peter came to fetch me, thinking that I had finished my interview, and then, having him to talk to, I felt better. Later an eighth man appeared with a number of papers and the garrulous crowd became of a sudden serious, placed themselves round a table, and seemed to hold a sort of council.
At this moment Klyschko passed by the open door, and espying me called Peter and me into his room to wait. I asked him why there were so many people in the other room, but he only shrugged his shoulders.
At last I was told that both Kameneff and Krassin wanted to see me, and I was shown into Krassin’s office. I learnt in a moment what I had feared, that our journey is not for to-morrow. Moscow has answered his application too late. There was just a faint chance left, for a telegram from Moscow was being deciphered at that moment, but it was almost too slight to count upon.
Krassin asked if he might bring his wife and daughters to the studio at 4 o’clock, and then Kameneff took me up to his office. He held out real hopes of starting next week.
As soon as Krassin and his very attractive family, but slightly alarming wife, had left, I went to see X—— whom I thought was in a position to get the visa I want for Reval. My passport is all in order to Stockholm, but Klyschko has failed to get the Esthonian visa, because it is necessary to get the Foreign Office approval to do so.
After three-quarters of an hour’s talk with X—— I realised that it was hopeless; he merely shared the general prejudice. It confirms me in my decision not to take any one else into my confidence, except Sydney and S—— L——. They are the only two who have got the spirit to understand.