Renewed apologies from the colonel and much cordial saluting from his staff ushered Sylvia out of the office, whence she was followed by Hazlewood and Antitch, the latter of whom begged her to show her forgiveness by dining with him that night. "My dear fellow," Hazlewood protested, "Miss Scarlett has promised to dine with me." In the end she agreed to dine with both, and begged them not to bother about her any more, lest work should suffer. "No, I'll see you into the town," Hazlewood said, "because I don't know if there's a room in any hotel. You ought really to go on to Salonika at once, but I suppose you want to see Nish on the eve of its calvary." She looked at him in surprise: there was such a depth of bitterness in his tone. "I should hate to be a mere sightseer." "No, forgive me for talking like that. I'm sure you're not, and to show my penitence for the imputation let me help you about your room." Sylvia and Hazlewood bowed to Antitch and walked out of the station. "They've started to commandeer every vehicle and every animal," Hazlewood explained, "so we shall have to walk. It's not far. This youth will carry your bag. Your heavy luggage had better remain in the _consigne_. I suppose you more or less guessed what was Michailovitch's difficulty about your friend the Bulgarian rose-grower?" "No, I don't think I did really." Sylvia did not care anything about the Bulgarian or the colonel; she was only anxious to hear something about Michael Fane; but because she was so anxious, she could not bring herself to start the topic and must wait for Hazlewood. "Well, this fellow Rakoff was identified by that peasant chap who was brought in--or at any rate so almost certainly recognized as to amount to identification--as one of the most bloodthirsty _comitadji_ leaders." "What do they do?" She felt that she must appear to take some interest in what Hazlewood was telling her, after the way he had helped and was helping her and perhaps would help her.