"Ha! comrade!" he said, with easy familiarity. "Here are the death warrants!"
"Death warrants!" said the Bolshevik. "Of the leaders of the late Revolution? Excellent! And a good bundle of them! One moment while I sign them."
He began rapidly signing the warrants, one after the other.
"Comrade," said the secretary in a surly tone, "you are not chewing tobacco!"
"Yes I am, yes I am," said the leader, "or, at least, I was just going to."
He bit a huge piece out of his plug, with what seemed to me an evident distaste, and began to chew furiously.
"It is well," said the other. "Remember comrade, that you are watched. It was reported last night to the Executive Committee of the Circle of the Brothers that you chewed no tobacco all day yesterday. Be warned, comrade. This is a free and independent republic. We will stand for no aristocratic nonsense. But whom have you here?" he added, breaking off in his speech, as if he noticed me for the first time. "What dog is this?"
"Hush," said the leader, "he is a representative of the foreign press, a newspaper reporter."
"Your pardon," said the secretary. "I took you by your dress for a prince. A representative of the great and enlightened press of the Allies, I presume. How deeply we admire in Germany the press of England! Let me kiss you."
"Oh, don't trouble," I said, "it's not worth while."