re just as we were. Except," she suddenly looked up at
me, "Uncle Alexei's living with us now."

"Semyonov!" I cried out sharply, "living with you!"

"Yes," she went on, "in the room where Nicholas had his inventions is
Uncle Alexei's bedroom."

"Why, in Heaven's name?" I cried.

"Uncle Alexei wanted it. He said he was lonely, and then he just came. I
don't know whether Nicholas likes it or not. Vera hates it, but she
agreed at once."

"And do you like it?" I asked.

"I like Uncle Alexei," she answered. "We have long talks. He shows me
how silly I've been."

"Oh!" I said... "and what about Nicholas' inventions?"

"He's given them up for ever." She looked at me doubtfully, as though
she were wondering whether she could trust me. "He's so funny
now--Nicholas, I mean. You know he was so happy when the Revolution
came. Now he's in a different mood every minute. Something's happened to
him that we don't know about."

"What kind of thing?" I asked.

"I don't know. He's seen something or heard something. It's some secret
he's got. But Uncle Alexei knows."

"How can you tell?"

"Because he's always saying things that make Nicholas angry, and we
can't see anything in them at all.... Uncle Alexei's very clever."

"Yes, he is," I agreed. "But you haven't told me why you were crying
just now."

She looked at me. She gave a little shiver. "Oh, you do look ill!...
Everything's going wrong together, isn't it?"

And with that she suddenly left me, hurrying away from me, leaving me
miserable and apprehensive of some great trouble in store for all of us.

IV

It is impossible to explain how disturbed I was by Nina's news. Semyonov
living in the flat! He must have some very strong reason for this, to
leave his big comfortable flat for the pokiness of the Markovitches'!

And then that the Markovitches should have him! There were already
inhabitants enough--Nicholas, Vera, Nina, Uncle Ivan, Bohun. Then the
inconvenience and discomfort of Nicholas's little hole as a bedroom! How
Semyonov must loathe it!

From that moment the Markovitches' flat became for me the centre of my
drama. Looking back I could see now how all the growing development of
the story had centred round those rooms. I did not of course know at
this time of that final drama of the Thursday afternoon, but I knew of
the adventure with the policeman, and it seemed to me that the flat was
a cup into which the ingredients were being poured one after a