However, such a brief experience was constantly boasted about by the old man - I used to write memorials to the throne in the office near the Winter Palace!
Though everyone knew in their hearts this old coot was just glorifying himself, they still had to smile and nod along.
The reason being no other than the connections this old man had in the provincial city!
It was said that the secretary of the Provincial Police Chief had once worked with him in the Caucasus, and the two shared a life-and-death friendship.
Back then, when the secretary was nearly captured by the Caucasus Mountain People while hunting, if it hadn't been for the old squire carrying his wounded comrade through miles of snowy mountain roads, where would the secretary be now?
