The next morning I left home at eleven o’clock. I had not passed many yards beyond the Hotel Victoria in the Kazanskiai when the report of two light bombs, followed presently by a rattling revolver fire and gun cracks, sounded on a street only two blocks away. When I reached the spot the confusion and tumult was so great that I was unable to make anything of the mêlée. The first thing I came upon was a wounded horse streaming blood into a gutter. Around the corner was a general riot of panicky men and women, terrified horses, and stolid Cossacks and police. A carriage was standing in the middle of the road--deserted. One of the horses that belonged to it was lying dead in its tracks. Windowpanes for a block and a half were shattered. There seemed to be wounded and killed men, and a number of arrests, but my impression was mostly a blur, with here and there a projecting detail. Intuitively I felt a connection between this incident--whatever it was--and my experience with Nastasia the night before. The more I thought about it the more curious I became. I hurried over to Nastasia’s, only to find the apartment deserted. In the early afternoon I learned from various eye-witnesses what had happened. The carriage I had seen standing in the street had been conveying some government moneys across the city. The trip was supposedly secret, and the carriage was guarded by Cossacks. The government had learned before this not to convey money anywhere at stated times or intervals. Only one man was supposed to know when a trip should be made, and this one was always a man of such rank, or position, as to have authority to order the military escort on the spur of the moment. To this day it is not known how the terrorists--Maximalists as it chanced--knew of this particular transfer of money. All that the government authorities ever learned about the affair were the bare facts of the exploit. An apple-vender strolling down the street of the Catharine Canal had paused to rest his basket on the canal railing. Opposite the spot where he stood was a little tea-house into which nearly a score of young men had [Illustration: An “expropriation” Government money was being carried across the city of St. Petersburg in this carriage. A light bomb was thrown, killing the horse and confusing the Cossack guard. Revolutionists then made off with the bags of money.] been dropping singly and by twos. There was also one girl. Apparently these young people were not acquainted with one another, but it was remarked afterward that they all looked rather constantly out of the restaurant toward the canal--and the apple-man plaintively calling his fruit.