ere just then his only customers. We asked him for
tea and sat down at a little table in the corner of the room. He did
not talk to us but stood in his place humming cheerfully to himself
and cleaning glasses. He was a rogue, I thought, looking at his little
eyes, but at any rate a merry rogue; he certainly had kept off from
him the general death and desolation that had overwhelmed his
neighbours. I sat opposite to Trenchard and wondered what to say to
him. His expression had never varied. As I looked at him I could not
but think of the strength of his eyes, of his mouth, the quiet
concentration of his hands ... a different figure from the smiling
uncertain man on the Petrograd station--how many years ago?

Our tea was brought to us. Then quite suddenly Trenchard said to me:

"Did she say anything before she died?"

"No," I answered quietly. "She died instantly, they told me."

"How exactly was she killed?"

His eyes watched my face without falter, clearly, gravely,
steadfastly.

"She was killed by a bullet. Stepped out from behind her shelter and
it happened at once. She can have suffered nothing."

"And Semyonov _let_ her?"

"He could not have prevented it. It might have happened to any one."

"I would have prevented it," he said, nodding his head gravely.

He was silent for a little; then with a sudden jerk he said:

"Where has she gone?"

"Gone?" I repeated stupidly after him.

"Yes--that's not death--to go like that. She must be somewhere
still--somewhere in this beastly forest. What--afterwards--when you
saw her--what? ... her face?..."

"She looked very peaceful--quite happy."

"No restlessness in her face? No anxiety?"

"None."

"But all that life--that energy. It can't have stopped. Quite
suddenly. It _can't_. She can't have wanted _not_ to know all those
things that she was so eager about before." He was suddenly voluble,
excited, leaning forward, staring at me. "You know how she was. You
must have seen it numbers of times--how she never looked at any of us
really, how we were none of us--no, not even Semyonov--anything to her
_really_; always staring past us, wanting to know the answer to
questions that _we_ couldn't solve for her. She wouldn't give it all
up simply for nothing, simply for a bullet ..." he broke off.

"Look here, Trenchard," I said, "try not to think of her just now more
than you can help, _just now_. We're in for a stiff time, I believe.
This will be our last easy afte