traces of an axe and saw, were photographed and measured, the largest
being 12 inches wide and 2 ft. 4 inches long, the others a bit smaller.
How these holes came to be there is a mystery, one is reminded of the
fact that in the event of shipwreck the new owner of the vessel would
collect the insurance money.'
Of course, no further confirmation is needed that Father is dead and
will never come back. His doom had been sealed. He had been sent to
his death.
July 18, 1935. Last night, a little after eleven, someone rang at the
door. Kiren's mother said it must be the yardman, who had Come to
collect the garbage. I ran, pail in hand, to open the door. It wasn't the
yardman. It was Romashov. He stepped back quickly when I opened the
door and took off his hat.
'It's an urgent matter, and concerns you, that's why I have decided to
call, even though it's so late.'
He uttered this very gravely, and I believed at once that the matter
was urgent and concerned me. I believed because he was so perfectly
calm.
'Please come in.'
We stood facing each other—he with his hat in his hand, I with my
slop-pail. Then I recalled myself and put the pail down in a corner.
'I'm afraid it's not quite convenient,' he said politely. 'You have
visitors, I believe?'
'No.'
'Can't we talk out here, on the landing? Or go down to the boulevard.
I have something to tell you—'
'Just a moment,' I said quickly.
Kiren's mother was calling me. I closed the door and went back.
232
'Who is it?'
'I'll be back in a minute, Alexandra Dmitrievna,' I said hastily. 'Or, I
tell you what-let Valya come down for me in fifteen minutes' time. I'll be
on the boulevard.'
She said something, but I did not stop to listen.
It was a cool evening and I had come out as I was. Going downstairs,
Romashov said: 'You'll catch a cold.' He probably wanted to offer me
his overcoat—he had even taken it off and was carrying it on his arm,
and afterwards, when we sat down, he placed it on the seat-but he could
not bring himself to do it. I didn't feel cold, though. I was excited,
wondering what his visit could mean.
The boulevard was quiet and deserted.
'Katya, what I wanted to tell you is this,' he began cautiously. 'I know
how important it is for you that the expedition should take place. For
you and for—'
He faltered, then went on easily:
'And for Sanya. I don't think that it matters really, I mean that it can
change anything, for your uncle, say, who is scared at the prospect. But
this concerns you and so it can't be a matter of indifference to me.'
He said this very simply.
'I have come to warn you.'
'Of what?'
'That the expedition won't take place.'
'It isn't true! C. telephoned me.'
'They have just decided that it's not worth while,' Romashov
countered calmly.
'Who has decided? And how do you know?'
He turned away, then faced me, smiling.
'I don't know how to tell you, really. You'll think me a cad again.'
'Just as you like.'
I was afraid he would get up and go away—he was so calm and self-
assured and so unlike the Romashov I had known. But he did not go
away.
'Nikolai Antonich told me that the Deputy Chief of the N.S.R.
Administration reported on the plan for the expedition and came out
against it himself. He doesn't think it's the business of the N.S.R.A. to
carry out searches for the lost captains who disappeared over twenty
years ago. If you ask me, though-' Romashov hesitated. He must have
felt hot, because he took his hat off and held it on his knee. 'It's not his
own opinion.'
'Whose opinion is it, then?'
'Nikolai Antonich's,' Romashov came back quickly. 'He's acquainted
with the Deputy Chief, who considers him a great expert on the history
of the Arctic. For that matter, who else could they consult concerning
the search for Captain Tatarinov if not Nikolai Antonich? It was he who
fitted out the expedition and afterwards wrote about it. He's a member
of the Geographical Society, and a highly respected one at that.'
I was so upset that for the moment I did not ask myself why Nikolai
Antonich should be so interested in preventing a search, or what had
made Romashov give him away. I felt aggrieved not only for my father's
sake, but for Sanya's as well.
'What's his name?'
233
'Whose?'
'That man who says it's not worth while making a search for lost
captains.'
Romashov gave the name.
'I'm not going to have this out with Nikolai Antonich, of course,' I
went on with an effort at restraint, feeling that my nostrils were flaring.
'We know where we stand, he and I. But I'll have something to say
about him at the N.S.R.A. Sanya had no time to square accounts with
him, or else he pitied him-I don't know. But are you sure about this?' I
suddenly asked, glancing at Romashov and thinking-why, this is the
man who loves me, and whose only thought is how to bring about the
ruin of Sanya!
'Why should I tell a lie?' Romashov said impassively. 'You'll hear
