I hurried past the stairway, with one swift glance toward the dark courtyard, where men from the street were crowding thicker and thicker. I went from corridor to corridor, jostling groups of frightened men and women, and stumbled at last into a back room, where most of the cadets had gathered. They had thrown down their guns and were waiting for the end. I searched the faces. The officer was not among them. Mr. Williams, by this time possessed of a passion to find him, had been hunting in another part of the building. At the moment, for both of us, the whole tragic situation was done up in the plight of this one feeble human being trying to save his life. Every second we expected to hear the rush of men on the stairway. “Perhaps I can do something with Antonoff,” Mr. Williams suggested. “Where are the boys?” I led him back to the room where I had found them, and he offered to go to the imprisoned Minister of War and try to make terms of surrender that would guarantee their safety. “Pazhal’sta, barin! Please help us! Please save us!” they cried in chorus. With two cadets to guide him and unlock the door, he disappeared. We waited a breathless two minutes. When he returned, a queer, emaciated little fellow, stoop-shouldered and pale, walked beside him. A very long nose and a fringe of long pale hair were almost all of him visible below the wide brim of his soft felt hat. Surely the War Minister had none of the traditional appearance of a Russian military man. “Tavarisch Antonoff, save our lives!” cried the cadets in unison. “On the word of the good revolutionist that we know you are, save our lives!” “Where are your officers?” Antonoff asked. “They have all left us,” they answered. The terms of surrender were quickly made, and Antonoff and Williams started downstairs to face the crowd. The men of the Red Guard recognized their leader. “Antonoff! Antonoff!” they shouted. “Nash, nash!” (Ours, ours!) “Where are the junkers?” With this the men in the lead made for the stairs. Antonoff stopped them. “I have given my word of honor as a revolutionist that these men in there shall not be killed, and as revolutionists you must keep that word.” Some of the Baltic fleet sailors, who had come down from the _Respublica_, recognized the American. “Americanski tavarisch!” one of them shouted. Mr. Williams began speaking to them. “I know the temptation you have,” he said, “but the ideals of your Revolution will be sullied if you yield to it. If you insist on fighting till you kill the last junker, it will be a useless massacre, and I will make it known around the world.” He explained the case of the boys and their desertion by their officers, and when he finished a vote was taken. All the sailors lifted their hands. A few of the Red Guard murmured dissent. Antonoff turned to them. “I have made my terms of surrender,” he said, “and I will myself shoot the first man who harms one of the junkers.”