"It goes out of my hands to-night. I shall hand it with a report to the Chief of the General Staff."
"When shall I hear from them?"
"They will let you know as soon as possible. It's unfortunate you should have written it. Otherwise, I could have settled the matter myself. As it is, it is a matter for the military authorities. Of course, such a letter written in the war zone, at a time like this—" He stopped himself. "Good-night. Good-night." He clicked his heels and bowed himself out of the room.
"Ouf!" we all said.
"Mrs. Pierce, promise me you won't put your pen to paper again while you are in Russia," the English Consul said, smiling.
"But isn't it ridiculous—absurd—disgusting!" I said.
"People are sent to Siberia for less," the Consul said. "But don't be frightened, Mrs. Pierce. It will come out all right."
"Of course. But when?"
"Seichas," he replied, smiling.
"Seichas." How I hate the expression. "Peter, you'd better cable for some more money. Heaven knows when we'll get out now," I said.