Right here I set my foot down. I was courting arrest as it was, but such an adventure as Paul proposed was only too likely to end by having our heads shot off and no questions asked, and even a paternal government would hardly protest. The chances of discovery were infinite, and capture under these circumstances would mean prompt execution. I declined Paul’s invitation with thanks. Just then Pasha came up. She, too, had changed her part. Like the girl who watched the door of the room, Pasha was now a mill-girl. Her pretty summer shirtwaist was exchanged for a soiled and torn calico-print affair, and a gray shawl was thrown over her head and shoulders. Through one torn shoe a white-stockinged foot protruded. “What are you up to now?” I asked. “I go to hold a meeting in the barracks. I’m a soldier’s sweetheart, don’t you see?” she laughed, hooking her arm around the arm of a soldier who stood by, to his very evident embarrassment. “Why can’t I go with you?” “You can. Why not? Only it will be more interesting on the ship.” I did not doubt that I would find it more of an adventure to accompany Paul, but I wasn’t seeking that kind of adventure. I wanted to study the methods of army and navy propaganda and the barracks meetings were quite as important as the meetings on the ships, so I elected to stick by Pasha. Paul handed me a key, which he said unlocked a certain box in his room in St. Petersburg. If I did not hear from him by ten o’clock the next morning I was to go to his room, unlock the box and burn the papers. He then shook hands with Pasha and myself and went out behind an orderly who carried a large black portfolio supposedly containing official documents, but, as I knew, now filled with official proclamations of the revolution. Pasha and I remained at headquarters till early afternoon, and then started forth upon our enterprise--she a plain mill-girl, and I a sailor boy. A sailor led us to a small park near the barracks and left us sitting on a bench while he reconnoitered. In a few minutes he returned with the word that all was well. Only we must hurry. The barracks courtyard entrance was guarded by a soldier. Hurrying across the court we entered the barracks. It was a long, low building of brick. At one end was a room evidently used for storage purposes, though originally intended for sleeping-quarters. The windows were set high in the walls, and crossed by iron bars as in a prison. The darkness obscured my vision for the first minute, but I was aware that many men were already in the room--soldiers and sailors all. They made way for us as we were led to the far end of the hall. I noticed that there was no other door in the room than the one by which we had entered. Within a quarter of an hour the room was crowded. Nearly one hundred men in uniform stood compactly within the four walls.