Monsieur Kokovtsov was typically a good Russian. He had no fighting
spirit, but was essentially a man of peace, entertaining a horror of
bloodshed or of sanguinary deeds. His placid temper caused him to avoid
all questions in dispute. He was prepared to do all possible to benefit
our country. He had cleverly conducted the election campaign, and had all
the governors of each province with him. The Emperor trusted him; the
Empress hated him.

Besides, Kokovtsov was a worker. He did not believe in that favourite
expression among Russians, "_nechevo_," which really means "nothing," but
is equivalent to "don't bother" or "don't worry." In Russia we
unfortunately always have a "_zarftra_," or to-morrow. For that reason he
was disliked also by the people.

It was not many months after his appointment when one night, at the
Poltavskaya, Rasputin received a visit from General Rogogin, the Director
of the Black Cabinet, the _cabinet noir_, the existence of which was
rigorously kept secret until the Revolution afforded the public a glimpse
of Russia behind the scenes.

Even from the tribune of the Duma it was declared that the Black Cabinet
was a fiction. Yet I happened to know that it existed, for later that
evening I accompanied Rasputin and the Director to the General Post
Office, where in three rooms on the second floor of the building the
mysterious department, where correspondence was opened and read, was
situated. Here was the most secret establishment of the Imperial Police.
For over a hundred years had this mysterious department been at work
examining the letters of all classes of people whose thoughts or doings
could be of interest to the Tsar, his Minister of the Interior, or the
Okhrana. Indeed, I learned from the general's conversation with the
monk--I first having taken an oath never to divulge anything of what I
saw or heard--that even the correspondence of the Tsar, his relatives, or
friends was not immune from examination.

Then I instantly realised the reason that the Tsaritza and Rasputin, in
communicating with their friends in Germany, sent their letters by hand.

On the night in question I stood watching with interest how letters for
secret examination were taken from a lift which passed up and down from
the sorting-rooms above to the distributing room below. The basket was
taken off the lift during its slow descent, and another basket
substituted containing letters already examined, so quickly that the