On my first visit to the burning-mound, I was attracted by an inscription carved on the giant birch that overhangs one pyre. It read:--“T. A. Fesenko” and the date “July 11, 1918,” _i.e._, six days before the murder. A young man sat beside the tree. He was a stranger to me. I took him to be one of Sokolov’s agents, especially as outsiders were not encouraged to hover round the iron-pits. I was looking closely at the ground to note where the bodies had been burned and pick up any remaining clues. The stranger exclaimed:--“You will have to look very hard!” I thought this was a strange remark; the singed and scorched appearance of the ground was, indeed, very noticeable still, although nearly a year had passed. But I encouraged the conversation, suspecting a surprise. The stranger proceeded to give in rather excited tones his conviction that the story of the bonfires and the burning of the bodies was all a myth. “See for yourself! How could they have destroyed all those bodies and left so few cinders!” he insisted. Of course I did not enlighten him as to the petrol and sulphuric-acid--which so powerfully aided the work of cremation--or the probable scattering of the ashes around and down the pit. I went straight to Sokolov, who was not far away and told him what the young man had said. “That must be Fesenko,” was his remark. We walked up to the place. The stranger had resumed his seat beside the birch and appeared to be suffering. Sokolov continued: “Yes, that’s the man. He brought Yurovsky to this place. He is just a young fool of a Bolshevist. Yurovsky took him because he was in charge of this wood, and he was so proud of escorting a komisar that he recorded the visit by carving his name and date on the tree. “Why then is he at large?” I queried. “Well, the fact is we hope he may give himself or some of the murderers away. We arrested him and let him go. He haunts this place, and is ever trying to prove that nothing could have happened here!” I felt rather sorry for the poor wretch. Perhaps he had not suspected Yurovsky’s purpose; Yurovsky did not confide such secrets. At all events I gave him the benefit of the doubt, feeling sure that there would be no peace for his tortured mind in this life. But Sokolov dispelled my sympathy: “The fact is, he touches a sore point. Where are the cinders? That is the question. We have found too few. They must be hidden somewhere. Now Fesenko could not possibly have discovered this weak point in our armour himself. He has probably been put up to it by the murderers or their spies. That is why we let him wander about.” However, Fesenko did not give away himself or his associates.