Propped up in bed, from this vantage point, I was able to see and hear the man, should he ever come back. I would judge whether he was friend or foe. Whatever the man might be, I was sure the woman had nothing to do with my rescue beyond the determination to make me well. But I remember the words, “You see how careful we must be.” That sounded as if they were working together. Perhaps others were involved, others saved? When the man should come back I was determined to find out all the events from him, from my last recollection to the present time. The questions they had asked me gave me hope that Tatiana had been saved. Absorbed in these thoughts, I was unaware that someone had come down the ladder until I suddenly realized the man stood beside me. Behind him was the woman holding a lighted candle. Waves of fresh, sweet air wafted out from his clothes. “Good evening,” he said, “it is cool outside.” “How do you feel?” he asked. My lips said, “Better, thank you,” but all the time I was thinking, he sounds friendly. I will ask him. Before I could open my mouth to form the words, his manner became serious, almost severe. “Never speak out loud,” he warned. “Only in a whisper. It is very dangerous.” He wheeled around and was gone up the ladder without another word. The woman followed. I looked hard at that man and felt satisfied he was not one of the Ekaterinburg guards, nor was he anyone I had ever seen before. In his shabby English clothes I could not be sure what he was. He carried himself erect like a soldier, his hair was well-groomed and he had an easy manner. He looked at me squarely without self-consciousness and delivered his orders without hesitation. The woman usually carried my food on a rough, wooden tray. Gradually, she brought me more solid food. Occasionally I had some potato; fresh fish was on my regular diet. When eating solid food I had to be very careful as I was afraid that I might swallow some of the teeth that were broken at the roots. I found one disfigurement after another. I could chew only on the right side of my mouth. Feeling around my head, I realized I was covered with welts, one more painful than the other. I also discovered two long grooves, one on the right side of my head, back of the ear, about an inch long, which still remained very painful. I wondered if this pain was the result of the accident or was inherited from my Mother who had a sensitive spot on her head. Her hairdresser had to be very careful when arranging her hair. Mine might have been caused by the bullet that had grazed my head. The pain indicated that my nose, too, was broken. A deformed, partly toothless girl at seventeen, alone in a world that did not care. My only consolation was that in spite of everything the Lord continued to be beside me.