He had been Trenchard's unofficial servant now for a long time, saying very little, always succeeding, in some quiet fashion of his own, in accompanying Trenchard on his expeditions.

Nikolai was one of the quietest human beings I have ever known.

His charming ugly face was in repose a little gloomy, not thoughtful so much as expectant, dreamy perhaps but also very practical and unidealistic.

His smile changed all that; in a moment his face was merry, even good-humouredly malicious, suspicious, and a little ironical.

He had the thick stolid body of the Russian peasant who is trained to any endurance, any misfortune that God might choose to send it.