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Fortunately, Kerensky's letter to Grimm was not taken, as I had put it under the floor of the barn with my money and watch. She must have had the help of the man with the specs she would not be able to understand my scratching. They must have been busy all day! But what really gets me wild almost all of my letters to Goroshkin are here! How did she get them?
I let him sit down and he told me episodes of his life for about a couple of hours. For thirty years he had been present at every performance in his theatre and he knew the world better than I did, only by watching the artists. January the tenth in the early morning at about six o'clock the fat Mlle. Goroshkin entered my room clad only in a nightgown.
I understand why Goroshkin's letters missed me she got them!... Now I understand what she meant by saying that I was trying to double cross her! In fact Lucie is right, and that's why it's maddening. I wonder what Goroshkin and Marchenko think of me? To whom I must seem a swine! And what a bad way of her's, to leave my letters a present for me!
I cannot understand this strange silence of Goroshkin. Is he dead? If he is dead what happened to Marchenko? Are they both dead? Shall I consider myself in the game, or did the whole organization end; shall I continue on my own behalf? I have been thinking, and thinking about it, and have decided that I must continue my informative functions, and must wait as I have been told.
I think that Goroshkin understood me and the state of my mind when he said, "May I venture to offer Your Excellency my humble house, and perhaps call a doctor?" This is as much as I remember of the next fortnight.
"Please your Excellency," said the voice of Goroshkin behind me, "don't refuse this time. If your esteemed father could have known the circumstances, he would have consented, and he was a strict man. I recollect that His Excellency would not deign to wait a second for his overcoat."
"Good morning," I said, "I cannot place you, but you seem familiar to me, I am sure." "That's due to my former occupation, your Excellency. I am Goroshkin, the usher from the Ekaterinensky Theatre. So sorry to apprehend of your sorrow, Sir, in connection with her Excellency's death." This man, Goroshkin, was a real friend to me, although I hardly recollected him.
You just must be in touch with the people," he said, "and be ready for what you were told to do, as we must have a man in Tumen. If I may suggest, you should not speak or act like a gentleman." I decided to joke a bit with Goroshkin: "Go to hell, you old fool," I said, "you damned plotter," and then I kicked a chair. To my great astonishment not a muscle twitched in Goroshkin's face.
"It came at last," said the man in charge of the luggage depot, "thank God I won't see your muzzle any more. What's in it?" "Since when has it been your business, your burjooi honor?" I said, "You did not pay me for buying my belongings, so better keep your trap shut!" I took the dear old bag it was Maroosia's before, and came home. What did Mlle. Goroshkin put in the bag in Moscow?
My task was to go to Tumen in disguise, meet some people there, and through Goroshkin communicate with Marchenko. My instructions included.... Goroshkin brought me a passport of Mr. Andrei Andreivich Vysotsky I should address myself. "Your Excellency understands that nobody assumes any responsibility for your safety.
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