Rescuing the Czar. James P. Smythe
… There were hundreds of tatterdemalians of all nations in various uniforms and smoking vile cigarettes, lounging carelessly around. … In a little while a dozen prisoners issued from a small guardhouse in one corner of the enclosure and were conducted at the point of the bayonet to the spot where I stood. … The officer of this firing squad looked viciously at me and ordered me to 'fall in.' … We were then marched to the log wall about fifty paces to the left of the guardhouse and commanded to 'about face.' … When we did so we saw a firing squad of eighteen men in command of a Sergeant who gave the order 'Prepare to fire!' … At this point the officer stepped forward and, addressing me personally, said: 'Do you know of any reason why you should not be shot for participating in the abduction of the Imperial family?' … This was a puzzler. … I was innocent enough of such an accusation, BUT the officer before me looked about as much like a Royalist as I in my present disheveled condition looked like a member of the French Cabinet. … If I denied my guilt I felt certain of a bullet in my heart from such an ugly, unkempt mob. … Glancing at my apparel I looked fit to be one of their number, so I said courageously: 'I am PROUD to say that I am the ringleader who engineered the whole business! … "
If it gives you any satisfaction to see me die, don't waste your breath asking me any further questions—go ahead and fire!' … 'Very well,' he snapped and made me about-face to the firing squad … For a few seconds he held a silent conversation with the Sergeant. … That functionary approached with a handkerchief. 'Will you be blindfolded?' he asked. 'Thank you, I prefer to see what's going on,' I answered. … The other prisoners followed my example. … We were ordered to step back against the wall. … The squad raised their rifles at the command of 'aim.' … I now know that I felt positively nauseated at the moment, but I actually SMILED. … 'Fire!' … There was a rattle of musketry and every prisoner beside me fell forward dead. … I STOOD THERE ALONE, uninjured and alive … coming toward me down the path was the daring female acrobatic aviator with her friend, the performer of the Métropole, robed in a shimmering sport outing costume, and smiling very sweetly to the Officer of the Guard. …
" … I am certain now that this veiled lady from Buckingham is in league with this gang of Bolsheviki—and I am also certain that I owe my life to the boast I made of being a murderer myself! … "
19. The following entry reads:
"A man who has escaped death is not to be trusted on a point of discretion—he doesn't know how to select his friends. He is like a spirit emerging from nowhere in the eternal void and grabs at the first apparition that promises companionship in his embarrassing and momentary isolation. … Well, I was so glad to see that Buckingham Clorinda that I was willing to take her into my confidence at once. … She seemed so sympathetic! … 'I commend your bravery,' she said prettily, offering me her hand. … It was small and beautifully moulded, yet firm and steady, and sent an electric thrill through me like a flash. … Her eyes would disarm the most suspicious diplomatic free-lance in the world. … Struck with admiration, hypnotized by her voice, I could only blurt, 'I thank you.'
" … 'We are looking for a man of approved courage,' she continued earnestly; 'we are more than satisfied that YOU are the man.' … Again I muttered my thanks. … 'How long have you been a member?' she then asked carelessly. … THIS was not so easily answered. … I thought quickly. … 'Long enough to KNOW my lesson!' I answered oracularly. … 'You still remember your instructions?' … 'What instructions?' She answered my question by asking, 'Were they not BURNED?' … 'Who is this encyclopædic lady?' I asked myself. 'What manner of TRAP is she setting for me now?' … 'Why did you SANDBAG me?' was MY answer. … 'You are NOT to ask questions,' she returned. 'Are you not satisfied with results?' …
" … 'I am still alive.' … 'Well,' she smiled, 'a live Bolshevik, of OUR kind, is much better than a dead diplomat!' … I was taken into an improvised kitchen and indulged in a splendid meal. … I took no wine. …
" … My meal being finished she offered me an excellent cigarette. … Glancing up through a ring of smoke my eyes fell upon a rough black-and-white sketch of a tall, smooth-faced, keen-eyed man with rather large ears, firm and thin-cut lips, high forehead and steadfast gaze, dressed in the uniform of a General Officer, with a single decoration on his left breast. … she observed me closely as I gazed. … I KNEW this man and was about to exclaim: 'The savior of this country!' … but something restrained my enthusiasm. … 'You recognize him, I see,' she insinuated. … 'WHO is he?' I dodged. … She merely smiled. … She evidently realizes the wonderful power of that disarming smile and the fascination of good teeth in a shapely head. … 'You'll do!' she said with apparent reservation as she tapped a tiny bell. …
" … A short, thickset man appeared—he is not positively ugly, but he has a way of staring at one that is rather ill-bred. … There is a gold band around his left wrist and a scar upon his right cheek. … I am sure he is the SAME man I met at one of Sadakichi-Hartmann's readings from Ibsen's Ghosts. … He may recall the time. … It was in an abandoned palace on Russian Hill, somewhere in America; the lady at his left was discussing the difficulties of getting her motor car into Ragiz; the younger one on his right was known as Alma and gave her address as East 61st Street, New York … and ALL THREE were quite convinced that the Central Powers will defeat the Allies. … He is an international character and will remember this incident as well as the following: ' … This gentleman will join your party for Ekaterinburg tonight, YOU understand. If there are any mistakes I shall not answer for results!' There were NO introductions. … The man bowed and began to back away. … 'YOU may accompany him,' she said, rising and flitting from the room. … I believe I understand what this party means! … There is to be a SHOOTING party at Ekaterinburg under the auspices of the Bolshevists in a day or two and I may be ONE of the 'mistakes' for which that mystifying lady disclaims responsibility. … My companion certainly looks like a bandit, and manifests the strength of a wild bull. … He seems much interested in that patch on my shirt sleeve. … "
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