It was a six days’ journey to Kazan, and seemed interminable. The “special train” was not so magnificent as its name, but exactly similar to the one from Riga—in discomfort, and in lice. The American Colonel arrived with a young man acting as a kind of A. D. C., and with Dr. Weekes, two other young men of the American Relief Administration, a Russian officer of the Red Army, detailed as interpreter, the two Russian ladies appointed as secretaries, and Nadia. Jemmy Hart, the newspaper correspondent, joined up with Bertram, and two officers of the Cheka accompanied the party, nominally as police protection, but really for political espionage.
Christy came down to the station to say farewell. He revealed a hint of anxiety about Bertram.
“Don’t take too many risks, Major.”
He had an idea that he might not stay much longer in Moscow. He would leave Russia to Bertram. Probably their next meeting-place would be Berlin or London.
In his casual way he mentioned an exciting item of news.
“Janet has come out to Berlin. I may go and see her there.”
Janet Welford in Berlin! What was she doing there?
“Having a look round,” said Christy. “Getting a background for a new novel. . . . There’s another reason.”
He mentioned the other reason in a “by the way” kind of tone.
“I asked her to meet me there. Now that my wife’s dead, there’s no reason of consanguinity, affinity, or spiritual relationship why these two persons should not be joined in holy matrimony. If Janet’s willing, which is very doubtful.”