"
"Oh I hope so, I do hope so," said the Bolshevik chief.
"What a regret it is to us Germans to think that
unfortunately we are not able to help pay for it; but
you English--you are so generous--how much we have admired
your noble hearts--so kind, so generous to the
vanquished..."
His voice had subsided into a sort of whine.
But at this moment there was a loud knocking at the door.
The Bolshevik hastily wiped the tears from his face and
put away his handkerchief.
"How do I look?" he asked anxiously. "Not humane, I hope?
Not soft?"
"Oh, no," I said, "quite tough."
"That's good," he answered. "That's good. But am I tough
ENOUGH?"
He hastily shoved his hands through his hair.
"Quick," he said, "hand me that piece of chewing tobacco.
Now then. Come in!"
The door swung open.
A man in a costume much like the leader's swaggered into
the room. He had a bundle of papers in his hands, and
seemed to be some sort of military secretary.
"Ha! comrade!" he said, with easy familiarity. "Here are
the death warrants!"
"Death warrants!" said the Bolshevik. "Of the leaders of
the late Revolution? Excellent! And a good bundle of
them! One moment while I sign them.
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