“What is the matter, have you gone mad? Madame Botchkareva came here of her own accord. Nobody captured her. She is going to Kislovodsk for a cure. She is a sick woman. She says that she lost her way. Anyhow, she has never fought against us. She returned home after we took over the power.”
“Ah, you don’t know her!” exclaimed Pugatchov. “She is a Kornilovka, the right hand of Kornilov.”
“Well, we are not releasing her, are we?” retorted Petrukhin. “I am going to call the committee together and have her story investigated.”
“An investigation!” scoffed Pugatchov. “And if you don’t find any evidence against her, will you let her go? You don’t know her! She is a dangerous character! How could we afford to save her? I wouldn’t even waste bullets on her. I would call the men and they would make a fine gruel of her!”
He made a motion toward the door. Petrukhin kept hold of him.
“But consider, she is a sick woman!” he pleaded. “What is the investigation committee for if not to investigate before punishing? Let the committee look into the matter and take whatever action it considers best.”
At this point the Commandant of the station arrived. He supported Petrukhin. “You can’t act like that in such a case,” he said, “this is clearly a matter for the investigation committee. If she is found guilty, we will execute her.”
Petrukhin went to summon the members of the investigation committee, who were all, twelve in number, common soldiers. As soon as he told the news to each member, he told me later, the men became threatening, talking of the good fortune that brought me into their hands. But Petrukhin argued with every one of them in my favour, as he was convinced of the genuineness of my plea. In such a manner he won some of them over to my side.
Meanwhile Pugatchov paced the room like a caged lion, thirsting for my blood.
“Ah, if I had only known it before, I would have had you shot in company with those fifteen officers!” he said to me.