However, this threat worked in my favour, as it touched the committee’s pride. They were not to be overridden like that. Pugatchov demanded that I should be searched. “I am at your disposal,” I said, “but before you proceed further I want to hand over to you this package of money. There are ten thousand roubles in it, sent to me by Princess Tatuieva, my former adjutant, to enable me to take the cure at the springs. I kept this money intact, because I hoped to return it to her upon reaching the Caucasus.” The money had in reality been given to me by Kornilov, to secure my parents and myself from starvation in the future. The valuable package was taken away, without much questioning. I was then ordered to undress completely. Petrukhin protested against it, but Pugatchov insisted. The dispute was settled by a vote, the majority being for my undressing. The search was painstaking but fruitless. There was the ticket to Kislovodsk, the letter from Princess Tatuieva, a little bottle of holy water, given to me by my sister Nadia, and a scapular, presented to me before leaving for the front by one of the patronesses of the Battalion. “Ah, now we have got it!” exclaimed Pugatchov, seizing the sacred bag. “There is the letter from Kornilov!” The bag was ripped open and a scroll of paper was taken out on which a psalm had been written in a woman’s hand. I declared that the sin of tearing it open would fall on their heads and that I would not sew it up again. One of the soldiers obtained a needle and thread and sewed up the bag again. The members of the committee apologized for having been obliged to have me searched in such a manner. “What shall you do with me now?” I asked. “We shall have you shot!” answered Pugatchov. “What for?” I demanded in despair. The brute did not reply. He merely smiled. Petrukhin was afraid to defend me too warmly, lest he should be suspected of giving aid to a spy. He preferred to work indirectly for me, by influencing the members of the committee individually. It was decided, I believe, at the suggestion of Petrukhin, that the case should be submitted to the Commander-in-Chief, Sablin, for consideration and sentence. This was merely a device for preventing an immediate execution, but the feeling among the men was that my death was certain. Nevertheless, I was deeply grateful to Petrukhin for his humane attitude. He was a man of rare qualities, and among Bolsheviks he was almost unique. I was ordered to a railway carriage used as a jail for captured officers and other prisoners. It was a death-chamber. Nobody escaped from it alive. When I was led inside, there were exclamations: “Botchkareva! How did you get here? Coming from Kornilov?” “No,” I answered, “I was on my way to Kislovodsk.”