Some people I met embarrassed me not a little by regarding me as a herald of the approaching Allies and an earnest of the early triumph of the militarist counter-revolution. Their attitude resembled at the other extreme that recently adopted by the Bolshevist Government toward impartial foreign labour delegates, who were embarrassingly proclaimed to be forerunners of the world revolution.
One evening the Journalist greeted me with looks of deep cunning and mystification. I could see he had something on his mind he was bursting to say. When at last we were seated, as usual huddled over the dining-room stove, he leaned over toward my chair, tapped me on the knee to draw my very particular attention, and began.
“Michael Mihailovitch,” he said in an undertone, as though the chairs and table might betray the secret, “I have a won-der-ful idea!” He struck one side of his thin nose with his forefinger to indicate the wondrousness of his idea. “To-day I and some colleagues of former days,” he went on, his finger still applied to the side of his nose, “determined to start a newspaper. Yes, yes, a secret newspaper—to prepare the way for the Allies!”
“And who is going to print it?” I asked, fully impressed with the wondrousness of his idea.
“The Bolshevist Izvestia,” he said, “is printed on the presses of the Novoye Vremya,[2] but all the printer-men being strongly against the Bolsheviks, we will ask them to print a leaflet on the sly.”
“And who will pay for it?” I asked, amused by his simplicity.
“Well, here you can help, Michael Mihailovitch,” said the Journalist, rather as though he were conferring an honour upon me. “You would not refuse, would you? Last summer the English——”
“Well, apart from technique,” I interrupted, “why are you so certain of the Allies?”
Dmitri Konstantinovitch stared at me.
“But you——” he began, then stopped abruptly.