Off I went, and behind me, just a step behind me, there came the new law. From this day on, any person attempting to change the republican form of Government is liable to fifteen years’ hard labour; the instigators and leaders of such a movement will go to penal servitude for life. But those who report matters in time shall go free and be duly rewarded. A white whirlwind swept over the frozen Danube. I went on. The road was long ... the law followed and caught me not. * * * * * _February 10th._ The door of my room opened quietly, and the little German maid looked in frightened. “They’ve come again. I have tried to send them away, but they won’t go....” This is quite the usual thing nowadays. I jumped up from my writing-desk and went across the cold drawing-room. There was no lamp in the ante-room, and in the gloom I saw two soldiers and a civilian near the door. “What do you want? Me? From the Housing Office? But you have been over our flat before!” They refused to be denied. Fortunately my mother was out of the way and did not meet them while they were looking over the place. When we reached my room the civilian produced a note-book and bent over it in the lamplight on the writing-table. For some minutes he searched for something in his book, then turned to me suddenly with suspicion in his eyes: “Is this your room?” “Yes.” “We come from the police. We must search it.” An unpleasant tremor went through me. “By what right?” I was on the point of asking, but I thought better of it. I remembered the hidden silver. The best thing would be to show no opposition—“After all, if those are your orders....” and I handed him my keys. One went in this direction, another in that, and I had to keep my eyes on the hands and pockets of all three. Meanwhile I remembered with extraordinary rapidity everything I had forgotten to burn. In awful anguish I thought of these notes, behind the books. What if they found them? I was thinking so intently about this that I was afraid they might read my face. Suppose my thoughts were to guide them!... One of the soldiers looked into the stove and at the same moment I caught sight of the other extracting cigarettes from a small box and stuffing them into his pockets. The civilian sat down at the table and pulled out a drawer. “Do you know anything about the organisation of the counter-revolution?” “Yes,” I answered ... “I got it from the columns of ‘The People’s Voice.’” (this is the Socialist’s own paper.) The stupid round eyes of the man stared at me and suddenly I began to feel dangerously gay. I took heart and was almost grateful to them for being so conveniently superficial. Why not give them all my cigarettes? What nonsense! I pulled myself together and straightened my face.