“Nikolai will be back any minute; he will bring some bread,” she said. “Usually the bread line is quite long and one must start very early in the morning.”
I was not prepared to find such a lovely lady in this house. I wondered who she was and what her relationship to my host could be. She was very aristocratic looking. Soon Nikolai, dressed shabbily in civilian clothes, like Alexander, arrived with a loaf of bread tucked under his arm. I could see he was a warm friend of Alexander. He was delighted to see us and said he had rather expected us. He and Alexander chatted at length while we drank our tea.
As we finished, he turned suddenly to Alexander and asked, “How did you ever happen to go to E.K. (that is, Ekaterinburg)?”
Alexander answering at length: “I wanted to join Admiral Kolchak’s army but was arrested and put in prison for a time. While there, I had a fresh attack and they let me out of prison. Instead of going to a hospital, I went to Ekaterinburg. There I met a priest by the name of Father Storozhev whom I visited several times. He informed me of the desperate condition at the Ipatiev House. It seemed he had been summoned to conduct a service there and was alarmed about the consequences. He suggested I contact a man by the name of Voykov, who was in charge of hiring the guards and other workers. I applied as a worker, but did not get the job.
“One day I went to the guard house next to the Ipatiev House where I became friendly with the guards through a guard whom I had met previously and with whom I later played chess. I returned to the guard house several times. Some of the guards were jolly but rough; most of the outside guards were Russians, former convicts. They did not object to my presence. They remained guarding the house to the last. The inside guards, I was told, were replaced by foreigners two weeks before the tragedy.”
Alexander was right; they were foreigners, mostly ex-prisoners of war.
It was as if Alexander were taking the opportunity to tell Nikolai, in front of me, what had happened. He felt that I ought to know.
“I saw Father Storozhev a few days before the night of July 16-17th,” he continued. “I went to the guard house again, after dark, because the priest had given me a feeling of danger. I did not tell him where I was going nor did I see him again. When I came upon the guards with whom I played chess, I saw most of them had been drinking heavily.
“They asked me to drink a toast to Comrade Yurovsky; he sent the liquor in appreciation for their services. I refused to take anything pointing to my wound. ‘Never mind, tovarishch,’ one of the guards said. ‘More will be left for us. You are sick and only good for the dogs.’ They seemed to be drowning something in drink. I am sure they were not aware of the forthcoming murder. I began to feel uneasy and feared there was real danger. I was afraid to leave the place. I wished I had four or five armed men with me. After dinner it was announced that no one would be allowed to leave or enter the place. They looked at me and said jokingly, ‘We have a new prisoner.’
“Some of the guards left drunk for their various posts. With several other guards I entered the courtyard. I heard a truck drive up to the house about eleven P.M. I offered the truck driver to help him back up the truck. He accepted my offer. It flashed through my mind that this truck might be for the purpose of secretly taking the family away. After a while the driver fell asleep, giving me the opportunity to get into the back of the truck. I lay down flat in the back of the truck. Imagine the shock when I felt warm, twitching objects thrown next to me. I knew then what had actually happened.”