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."

He began rapidly signing the warrants, one after the
other.

"Comrade," said the secretary in a surly tone, "you are
not chewing tobacco!"

"Yes I am, yes I am," said the leader, "or, at least, I
was just going to."

He bit a huge piece out of his plug, with what seemed to
me an evident distaste, and began to chew furiously.

"It is well," said the other. "Remember comrade, that
you are watched. It was reported last night to the
Executive Committee of the Circle of the Brothers that
you chewed no tobacco all day yesterday. Be warned,
comrade. This is a free and independent republic. We will
stand for no aristocratic nonsense. But whom have you