The next morning we left the fortune teller before the sun was up, and, when we had made about fifteen miles, hove in sight of Van Kure.  I found Colonel Kazagrandi at his headquarters.  He was a man of good family, an experienced engineer and a splendid officer, who had distinguished himself in the war at the defence of the island of Moon in the Baltic and afterwards in the fight with the Bolsheviki on the Volga.  Colonel Kazagrandi offered me a bath in a real tub, which had its habitat in the house of the president of the local Chamber of Commerce.  As I was in this house, a tall young captain entered.  He had long curly red hair and an unusually white face, though heavy and stolid, with large, steel-cold eyes and with beautiful, tender, almost girlish lips.  But in his eyes there was such cold cruelty that it was quite unpleasant to look at his otherwise fine face.  When he left the room, our host told me that he was Captain Veseloffsky, the adjutant of General Rezukhin, who was fighting against the Bolsheviki in the north of Mongolia.  They had just that day arrived for a conference with Baron Ungern.

After luncheon Colonel Kazagrandi invited me to his yurta and began discussing events in western Mongolia, where the situation had become very tense.

“Do you know Dr. Gay?” Kazagrandi asked me.  “You know he helped me to form my detachment but Urga accuses him of being the agent of the Soviets.”

I made all the defences I could for Gay.  He had helped me and had been exonerated by Kolchak.

“Yes, yes, and I justified Gay in such a manner,” said the Colonel, “but Rezukhin, who has just arrived today, has brought letters of Gay’s to the Bolsheviki which were seized in transit.  By order of Baron Ungern, Gay and his family have today been sent to the headquarters of Rezukhin and I fear that they will not reach this destination.”

“Why?” I asked.

“They will be executed on the road!” answered Colonel Kazagrandi.

“What are we to do?” I responded.  “Gay cannot be a Bolshevik, because he is too well educated and too clever for it.”

“I don’t know; I don’t know!” murmured the Colonel with a despondent gesture.  “Try to speak with Rezukhin.”

I decided to proceed at once to Rezukhin but just then Colonel Philipoff entered and began talking about the errors being made in the training of the soldiers.  When I had donned my coat, another man came in.  He was a small sized officer with an old green Cossack cap with a visor, a torn grey Mongol overcoat and with his right hand in a black sling tied around his neck.  It was General Rezukhin, to whom I was at once introduced.  During the conversation the General very politely and very skilfully inquired about the lives of Philipoff and myself during the last three years, joking and laughing with discretion and modesty.  When he soon took his leave, I availed myself of the chance and went out with him.