often find a rose petal or a bud, or maybe a tiny feather, something very light, that I leave on the pillow to prove that I have been. Never had I been more with them in spirit than this night, when I felt so lonely and bewildered. Later on I wrote an apology to F. E., explaining why I had not turned up at Charlton to do his bust. It was one of the things that I felt rather badly about, for I had left England the very day that I was due at the Birkenheads’. I could not at that time explain, and they must have thought me so very rude. It is funny that none of these people, not even Kameneff have heard of F. E., either as Smith, Lord Birkenhead, or Lord Chancellor. Chancellor of the Exchequer they understand, but no other Chancellor. When at last the meeting was over, I was introduced to Gukovski, and gathered that we were in his room. He is a little bent man, who broke his back some time past in a motor accident. He has red hair and beard, and small narrow eyes that look at one with close scrutiny, and give one a shivery feeling. He asked me what my mission was, and when I had told him he said: “Do you think that you are going to get Lenin to sit to you?” I did think so, and his eyes twinkled with merriment. “Well you won’t!” he said and chuckled. Kameneff went off to converse on the telephone with Tchicherin at Moscow, and did not come back. I waited and waited, and Gukovski began packing a trunk; he was evidently coming with us. I watched him, a man’s packing is always a rather interesting and pathetic sight, but even that ceased to interest me after awhile, and I became conscious of a feeling bordering on tears and sleep. Where on earth was Kameneff, and why didn’t he come back, or else explain to me how long this waiting was to go on. After awhile I discovered that Gukovski’s secretary, a young man called Gai, could speak perfectly good English. From him I learnt that our train was leaving “about midnight” for Moscow, and that I could go to it any time I liked and find my sleeper. I ought to have known this long before as it was already nearly midnight. I made Alexandre Kameneff and the soldier take me to the station immediately. Of course when I got there the train was nowhere to be found--it was in a siding--and I sat down on a stone step and waited, thankful at least for the fresh air and the absence of glaring lights. When our “wagon-de-luxe” finally [Illustration: BRIDGE BLOWN UP BY YUDENITCH. _p. 61._] appeared it was the best that I have ever seen. It had been the Special of the Minister for Railways, and was very spacious and comfortable. As soon as Kameneff, Gukovski and his little girl joined us, the train started and we had a midnight supper of tea and caviare. SEPTEMBER 19TH.