On leaving him, I jumped into an omnibus going in the direction of the Marble Arch; but as soon as the conveyance had travelled about five hundred yards, I alighted and followed the astute chief spy, who was then retracing his steps down Regent Street. Eventually I discovered that he resided in Russell Square, Bloomsbury, and from that evening I haunted him like a shadow, in order to obtain an insight into his methods. I quickly ascertained how closely day and night the prominent members of our Circle were being watched, not only by the Russian police, but by detectives from Scotland Yard, whose aid they had invoked. Guibaud and I met on several occasions, and always as friends. One afternoon when I called at the house of Isaac Bounakoff in Aspland Grove, Hackney, to which our headquarters had been temporarily transferred, Pétroff made a statement that caused me considerable amazement and dismay. Notwithstanding our precautions, the spies had discovered Tersinski’s house in Walworth, and were watching it. Isaac had recognised one of the “Security Section” men standing at the corner of the street. He had completed the machine, and was anxious to remove it to a place of safety before search was made by the English police. It was imperative that the incriminating object should be got out of the house without delay, and after some discussion the task of removing it devolved upon me, Grinevitch volunteering to assist. Returning at once to my chambers, I contrived, by the aid of a grey wig and the contents of my “make-up” box, to assume the appearance of an elderly man. Attiring myself in a seedy suit, I donned an apron, which I rolled up around my waist, so that when, an hour later, I alighted from an omnibus in the Walworth Road, I presented the appearance of a respectable mechanic. It was now quite dark, and as I turned down the quiet street I met an ill-clad man sauntering up and down, smoking a short, clay pipe. The light of a street lamp fell upon features which I recognised as those of Guibaud! He gave me a sharp, inquiring glance, but was unsuspicious; therefore I walked on until I came before Tersinski’s house—an eight-roomed dwelling, with area and basement of the usual South London type. Then I looked round suddenly, and seeing the spy’s back turned, darted up the steps leading to the front door, and swiftly let myself in with the latch-key. The unfamiliar interior was pitch dark, and I was afraid to strike a match lest the detective’s attention might be attracted. Groping my way carefully up the stairs, I ascended to Tersinski’s workshop on the top floor, where he had told me I should find the box.