Among the latter was Chayim Grossman, who from his twentieth to his thirtieth year, had worked in the movement. More than one barricade had he thrown up in Warsaw’s streets, more than one revolutionists’ banner had he waved from its house tops, and not a few times had he exposed himself to the peril of the bullets. But always his courage and his faith in the holy cause had helped him to come forth from the battle, safe in body and undaunted in spirit. But at last even he lost courage, and as he reviewed his past activities, for which hanging itself were little punishment indeed, he was overcome by terror. Every night in his dreams there would appear hangmen, in red garb, laughing loudly at him through grinning teeth, and they would drag him somewhere up a high scaffold.... He would be forced to crawl and climb, upward, upward, until he reached the top, which was frightfully high. And now he would fall over the edge, and on waking would find himself bathed in a cold sweat, while his terror was greater than ever. Shadow-like, he slunk through the “peaceful” streets, trembling at sight of every officer and beholding in every civilian--a spy.... There was only one course left--to escape. But strangely enough, the self-same Grossman who during his ten years’ service in the movement had stolen across the border time and again, now developed a sudden fear at the notion of crossing the boundary-line with the same trustworthy agents as heretofore. And when his more intimate friends, also former fighters for the cause, would ask him, “Chayim, why do you delay your escape?” he would reply dispiritedly, “I tremble at thought of the border. They’re watching very closely now.” And of all these friends, once upon a time leaders in the revolution, not one would attempt to give him the courage to cross in the old way. This disheartened Chayim all the more, and like a caged beast he paced back and forth, a solitary shadow in the great city of Warsaw, seeking some avenue of escape from his danger.... One day, walking thus engrossed in thought through the Saxon Gardens, where at every turn a gendarme was encountered, Chayim came face to face with Henich, the son of wealthy parents, who had, however, been very active in the days of the revolution and had been very friendly towards Chayim. Henich took him to a secluded spot and whispered to him, “Chayim, do you want to leave the country in the regular, legal manner?” “Do you need to ask that?” replied Chayim quickly. “Well, just listen. My sister Eda is about to leave for Berlin, to meet her husband, Sandrovitch. The passport is made out in the name of both of them, but he left earlier than he expected ... so that you can travel with the passport, as her husband....”