``It's good to see you again, Styka.''

Styka studied his captain. He almost broke into tears. To him, Andrei Androfski had always been the living symbol of a Polish officer. His captain was thin and haggard and his beautiful boots were worn and shabby.

``Remember to call me Jan,'' Andrei said.

Styka nodded and sniffed and blew his nose vociferously. ``When that woman found me and told me that you needed me I was never so happy since before the war.''

``I'm lucky that you were still living in Lublin.''

Styka grumbled about fate. ``For a time I thought of trying to reach the Free Polish Forces, but one thing led to another. I got a girl in trouble and we had to get married. Not a bad girl. So we have three children and responsibilities. I work at the granary. Nothing like the old days in the army, but I get by. Who complains? Many times I tried to reach you, but I never knew how. I came to Warsaw twice, but there was that damned ghetto wall.''

``I understand.''

Styka blew his nose again.

``Were you able to make the arrangements?'' Andrei asked.

``There is a man named Grabski who is the foreman in charge of the bricklayers at Majdanek. I did exactly as instructed. I told him you are on orders from the Home Army to get inside Majdanek so you can make a report to the government in exile in London.''

``His answer?''

``Ten thousand zlotys.''

``Can he be trusted?''

``He is aware he will not live for twenty-four hours if he betrays you.''