第10章

Itwassnowingheavily，whichwasapieceofluckforus。PooroldPeterhadnogreatcoat，sowewentintoaJew’sshopandboughtaready—madeabomination，whichlookedasifitmighthavebeenmeantforadissentingparson。Itwasnogoodsavingmymoneywhenthefuturewassoblack。Thesnowmadethestreetsdeserted，andweturneddownthelonglanewhichledtoRatchikferry，andfounditperfectlyquiet。IdonotthinkwemetasoultillwegottoKuprasso’sshop。

Wewalkedstraightthroughthecafe，whichwasempty，anddownthedarkpassage，tillwewerestoppedbythegardendoor。I

knockedanditswungopen。Therewasthebleakyard，nowpuddledwithsnow，andablazeoflightfromthepavilionattheotherend。

Therewasascrapingoffiddles，too，andthesoundofhumantalk。

Wepaidthenegroatthedoor，andpassedfromthebitterafternoonintoagarishsaloon。

Therewerefortyorfiftypeoplethere，drinkingcoffeeandsiropsandfillingtheairwiththefumesoflatakia。MostofthemwereTurksinEuropeanclothesandthefez，butthereweresomeGermanofficersandwhatlookedlikeGermancivilians—ArmyServiceCorpsclerks，probably，andmechanicsfromtheArsenal。Awomanincheapfinerywastinklingatthepiano，andtherewereseveralshrillfemaleswiththeofficers。PeterandIsatdownmodestlyinthenearestcorner，whereoldKuprassosawusandsentuscoffee。

AgirlwholookedlikeaJewesscameovertousandtalkedFrench，butIshookmyheadandshewentoffagain。

Presentlyagirlcameonthestageanddanced，asillyaffair，allaclashingoftambourinesandwriggling。IhaveseennativewomendothesamethingbetterinaMozambiquekraal。AnothersangaGermansong，asimple，sentimentalthingaboutgoldenhairandrainbows，andtheGermanspresentapplauded。Theplacewassotinsellyandcommonthat，comingtoitfromweeksofroughtravelling，itmademeimpatient。Iforgotthat，whilefortheothersitmightbeavulgarlittledancing—hall，forusitwasasperilousasabrigands’den。

Peterdidnotsharemymood。Hewasquiteinterestedinit，ashewasinterestedineverythingnew。Hehadageniusforlivinginthemoment。

Iremembertherewasadrop—sceneonwhichwasdaubedabluelakewithverygreenhillsinthedistance。Asthetobaccosmokegrewthickerandthefiddleswentonsquealing，thistawdrypicturebegantomesmerizeme。Iseemedtobelookingoutofawindowatalovelysummerlandscapewheretherewerenowarsordanger。I

seemedtofeelthewarmsunandtosmellthefragranceofblossomfromtheislands。AndthenIbecameawarethataqueerscenthadstolenintotheatmosphere。

Therewerebraziersburningatbothendstowarmtheroom，andthethinsmokefromthesesmeltlikeincense。Somebodyhadbeenputtingapowderintheflames，forsuddenlytheplacebecameveryquiet。Thefiddlesstillsounded，butfarawaylikeanecho。Thelightswentdown，allbutacircleonthestage，andintothatcirclesteppedmyenemyoftheskincap。

Hehadthreeotherswithhim。Iheardawhisperbehindme，andthewordswerethosewhichKuprassohadusedthedaybefore。

ThesebedlamiteswerecalledtheCompanionsoftheRosyHours，andKuprassohadpromisedgreatdancing。

Ihopedtogoodnesstheywouldnotseeus，fortheyhadfairlygivenmethehorrors。Peterfeltthesame，andwebothmadeourselvesverysmallinthatdarkcorner。Butthenewcomershadnoeyesforus。

Inatwinklingthepavilionchangedfromacommonsaloon，whichmighthavebeeninChicagoorParis，toaplaceofmystery—

yes，andofbeauty。ItbecametheGarden—HouseofSulimantheRed，whoeverthatsportsmanmayhavebeen。Sandyhadsaidthattheendsoftheearthconvergedthere，andhehadbeenright。Ilostallconsciousnessofmyneighbours—stoutGerman，frock—coatedTurk，frowsyJewess—andsawonlystrangefiguresleapinginacircleoflight，figuresthatcameoutofthedeepestdarknesstomakeabigmagic。

Theleaderflungsomestuffintothebrazier，andagreatfanofbluelightflaredup。Hewasweavingcircles，andhewassingingsomethingshrillandhigh，whilsthiscompanionsmadeachoruswiththeirdeepmonotone。Ican’ttellyouwhatthedancewas。I

hadseentheRussianballetjustbeforethewar，andoneofthemeninitremindedmeofthisman。Butthedancingwastheleastpartofit。Itwasneithersoundnormovementnorscentthatwroughtthespell，butsomethingfarmorepotent。InaninstantIfoundmyselfreftawayfromthepresentwithitsdulldangers，andlookingataworldallyoungandfreshandbeautiful。Thegaudydrop—scenehadvanished。ItwasawindowIwaslookingfrom，andIwasgazingatthefinestlandscapeonearth，litbythepurecleanlightofmorning。

Itseemedtobepartoftheveld，butlikenoveldIhadeverseen。

Itwaswiderandwilderandmoregracious。Indeed，Iwaslookingatmyfirstyouth。Iwasfeelingthekindofimmortallight—

heartednesswhichonlyaboyknowsinthedawningofhisdays。I

hadnolongeranyfearofthesemagic—makers。Theywerekindlywizards，whohadbroughtmeintofairyland。

Thenslowlyfromthesilencetheredistilleddropsofmusic。Theycamelikewaterfallingalongwayintoacup，eachtheessentialqualityofpuresound。We，withourelaborateharmonies，haveforgottenthecharmofsinglenotes。TheAfricannativesknowit，andIrememberalearnedmanoncetellingmethattheGreekshadthesameart。Thosesilverbellsbrokeoutofinfinitespace，soexquisiteandperfectthatnomortalwordscouldhavebeenfittedtothem。Thatwasthemusic，Iexpect，thatthemorningstarsmadewhentheysangtogether。

Slowly，veryslowly，itchanged。Theglowpassedfrombluetopurple，andthentoanangryred。Bitbybitthenotesspuntogethertilltheyhadmadeaharmony—afierce，restlessharmony。AndI

wasconsciousagainoftheskin—claddancersbeckoningoutoftheircircle。

Therewasnomistakeaboutthemeaningnow。Allthedaintinessandyouthhadfled，andpassionwasbeatingtheair—terrible，savagepassion，whichbelongedneithertodaynornight，lifenordeath，buttothehalf—worldbetweenthem。Isuddenlyfeltthedancersasmonstrous，inhuman，devilish。Thethickscentsthatfloatedfromthebrazierseemedtohaveatangofnew—shedblood。

Criesbrokefromthehearers—criesofangerandlustandterror。I

heardawomansob，andPeter，whoisastoughasanymortal，tooktightholdofmyarm。

InowrealizedthattheseCompanionsoftheRosyHoursweretheonlythingintheworldtofear。RastaandStummseemedfeeblesimpletonsbycontrast。ThewindowIhadbeenlookingoutofwaschangedtoaprisonwall—Icouldseethemortarbetweenthemassiveblocks。Inasecondthesedevilswouldbesmellingouttheirenemieslikesomefoulwitch—doctors。Ifelttheburningeyesoftheirleaderlookingformeinthegloom。Peterwasprayingaudiblybesideme，andIcouldhavechokedhim。Hisinfernalchatterwouldrevealus，foritseemedtomethattherewasnooneintheplaceexceptusandthemagic—workers。

Thensuddenlythespellwasbroken。Thedoorwasflungopenandagreatgustoficywindswirledthroughthehall，drivingcloudsofashesfromthebraziers。Iheardloudvoiceswithout，andahubbubbeganinside。Foramomentitwasquitedark，andthensomeonelitoneoftheflarelampsbythestage。Itrevealednothingbutthecommonsqualorofalowsaloon—whitefaces，sleepyeyes，andfrowsyheads。Thedrop—piecewasthereinallitstawdriness。

TheCompanionsoftheRosyHourshadgone。Butatthedoorstoodmeninuniform，IheardaGermanalongwayoffmurmur，’Enver’sbodyguards，’andIheardhimdistinctly;for，thoughI

couldnotseeclearly，myhearingwasdesperatelyacute。Thatisoftenthewaywhenyousuddenlycomeoutofaswoon。

Theplaceemptiedlikemagic。TurkandGermantumbledovereachother，whileKuprassowailedandwept。Nooneseemedtostopthem，andthenIsawthereason。ThoseGuardshadcomeforus。ThismustbeStummatlast。Theauthoritieshadtrackedusdown，anditwasallupwithPeterandme。

Asuddenrevulsionleavesamanwithalowvitality。Ididn’tseemtocaregreatly。Weweredone，andtherewasanendofit。ItwasKismet，theactofGod，andtherewasnothingforitbuttosubmit。Ihadn’taflickerofathoughtofescapeorresistance。Thegamewasutterlyandabsolutelyover。

AmanwhoseemedtobeasergeantpointedtousandsaidsomethingtoKuprasso，whonodded。Wegotheavilytoourfeetandstumbledtowardsthem。Withoneoneachsideofuswecrossedtheyard，walkedthroughthedarkpassageandtheemptyshop，andoutintothesnowystreet。Therewasaclosedcarriagewaitingwhichtheymotionedustogetinto。ItlookedexactlyliketheBlackMaria。

Bothofussatstill，liketruantschoolboys，withourhandsonourknees。Ididn’tknowwhereIwasgoingandIdidn’tcare。Weseemedtoberumblingupthehill，andthenIcaughttheglareoflightedstreets。

’Thisistheendofit，Peter，’Isaid。

’_Ja，Cornelis，’hereplied，andthatwasallourtalk。

Byandby—hourslateritseemed—westopped。Someoneopenedthedoorandwegotout，tofindourselvesinacourtyardwithahugedarkbuildingaround。Theprison，Iguessed，andI

wonderediftheywouldgiveusblankets，foritwasperishingcold。

Weenteredadoor，andfoundourselvesinabigstonehall。Itwasquitewarm，whichmadememorehopefulaboutourcells。A

maninsomekindofuniformpointedtothestaircase，upwhichweploddedwearily。Mymindwastooblanktotakeclearimpressions，orinanywaytoforecastthefuture。Anotherwardermetusandtookusdownapassagetillwehaltedatadoor。Hestoodasideandmotionedustoenter。

Iguessedthatthiswasthegovernor’sroom，andweshouldbeputthroughourfirstexamination。Myheadwastoostupidtothink，andImadeupmymindtokeepperfectlymum。Yes，eveniftheytriedthumbscrews。Ihadnokindofstory，butIresolvednottogiveanythingaway。AsIturnedthehandleIwonderedidlywhatkindofsallowTurkorbulging—neckedGermanweshouldfindinside。

Itwasapleasantroom，withapolishedwoodfloorandabigfireburningonthehearth。Besidethefireamanlayonacouch，withalittletabledrawnupbesidehim。OnthattablewasasmallglassofmilkandanumberofPatiencecardsspreadinrows。

Istaredblanklyatthespectacle，tillIsawasecondfigure。Itwasthemanintheskin—cap，theleaderofthedancingmaniacs。BothPeterandIbackedsharplyatthesightandthenstoodstockstill。

Forthedancercrossedtheroomintwostridesandgrippedbothofmyhands。

’Dick，oldman，’hecried，’I’mmostawfullygladtoseeyouagain！’

CHAPTERTWELVE

FourMissionariesSeeLightintheirMissionAspasmofincredulity，avastrelief，andthatsharpjoywhichcomesofreactionchasedeachotheracrossmymind。Ihadcomesuddenlyoutofveryblackwatersintoanunbelievablecalm。I

droppedintothenearestchairandtriedtograpplewithsomethingfarbeyondwords。

’Sandy，’Isaid，assoonasIgotmybreath，’you’reanincarnatedevil。You’vegivenPeterandmethefrightofourlives。’

’Itwastheonlyway，Dick。IfIhadn’tcomemewinglikeatom—catatyourheelsyesterday，Rastawouldhavehadyoulongbeforeyougottoyourhotel。Youtwohavegivenmeaprettyanxioustime，andittooksomedoingtogetyousafehere。However，thatisallovernow。Makeyourselvesathome，mychildren。’

’Over！’Icriedincredulously，formywitswerestillwool—

gathering。’Whatplaceisthis？’

’Youmaycallitmyhumblehome’—itwasBlenkiron’ssleekvoicethatspoke。’We’vebeenpreparingforyou，Major，butitwasonlyyesterdayIheardofyourfriend。’

IintroducedPeter。

’MrPienaar，’saidBlenkiron，’pleasedtomeetyou。Well，asIwasobserving，you’resafeenoughhere，butyou’vecutitmightyfine。

Officially，aDutchmancalledBrandtwastobearrestedthisafternoonandhandedovertotheGermanauthorities。WhenGermanybeginstotroubleaboutthatDutchmanshewillfinddifficultyingettingthebody;butsucharethelanguidwaysofanOrientaldespotism。MeantimetheDutchmanwillbenomore。Hewillhaveceaseduponthemidnightwithoutpain，asyourpoetsings。’

’ButIdon’tunderstand，’Istammered。’Whoarrestedus？’

’Mymen，’saidSandy。’Wehaveabitofagrafthere，anditwasn’tdifficulttomanageit。OldMoellendorffwillbenosingafterthebusinesstomorrow，buthewillfindthemysterytoodeepforhim。ThatistheadvantageofaGovernmentrunbyapackofadventurers。But，byJove，Dick，wehadn’tanytimetospare。ifRastahadgotyou，ortheGermanshadhadthejobofliftingyou，yourgoosewouldhavebeenjollywellcooked。Ihadsomeunquiethoursthismorning。’

Thethingwastoodeepforme。IlookedatBlenkiron，shufflinghisPatiencecardswithhisoldsleepysmile，andSandy，dressedlikesomebanditinmelodrama，hisleanfaceasbrownasanut，hisbarearmsalltattooedwithcrimsonrings，andthefoxpeltdrawntightoverbrowandears。Itwasstillanightmareworld，butthedreamwasgettingpleasanter。Petersaidnotaword，butIcouldseehiseyesheavywithhisownthoughts。

Blenkironhovehimselffromthesofaandwaddledtoacupboard。

’Youboysmustbehungry，’hesaid。’Myduo—denumhasbeengivingmehellasusual，andIdon’teatnomorethanasquirrel。ButIlaidinsomestores，forIguessedyouwouldwanttostokeupsomeafteryourtravels。’

HebroughtoutacoupleofStrassburgpies，acheese，acoldchicken，aloaf，andthreebottlesofchampagne。

’Fizz，’saidSandyrapturously。’AndadryHeidsiecktoo！We’reinluck，Dick，oldman。’

Ineverateamorewelcomemeal，forwehadstarvedinthatdirtyhotel。ButIhadstilltheoldfeelingofthehunted，andbeforeIbeganIaskedaboutthedoor。

’That’sallright，’saidSandy。’Myfellowsareonthestairandatthegate。Ifthe_Metrebareinpossession，youmaybetthatotherpeoplewillkeepoff。Yourpastisblottedout，cleanvanishedaway，andyoubegintomorrowmorningwithanewsheet。Blenkiron’sthemanyou’vegottothankforthat。Hewasprettycertainyou’dgethere，buthewasalsocertainthatyou’darriveinahurrywithagoodmanyinquirersbehindyou。Sohearrangedthatyoushouldleakawayandstartfresh。’

’YournameisRichardHanau，’Blenkironsaid，’borninCleveland，Ohio，ofGermanparentageonbothsides。Oneofourbrightestmining—

engineers，andtheappleofGuggenheim’seye。YouarrivedthisafternoonfromConstanza，andImetyouatthepacket。

Theclothesforthepartareinyourbedroomnextdoor。ButIguessallthatcanwait，forI’manxioustogettobusiness。We’renothereonajoy—ride，Major，soIreckonwe’llleaveoutthedime—noveladventures。I’mjustdyingtohearthem，butthey’llkeep。Iwanttoknowhowourmutualinquirieshaveprospered。’

HegavePeterandmecigars，andwesatourselvesinarmchairsinfrontoftheblaze。Sandysquattedcross—leggedonthehearthrugandlitafouloldbriarpipe，whichheextricatedfromsomepouchamonghisskins。Andsobeganthatconversationwhichhadneverbeenoutofmythoughtsforfourhecticweeks。

’IfIpresumetobegin，’saidBlenkiron，’it’sbecauseIreckonmystoryistheshortest。Ihavetoconfesstoyou，gentlemen，thatI

havefailed。’

Hedrewdownthecornersofhismouthtillhelookedacrossbetweenamusic—hallcomedianandasickchild。

’Ifyouwerelookingforsomethingintherootofthehedge，youwouldn’twanttoscourtheroadinahigh—speedautomobile。Andstilllesswouldyouwanttogetabird’s—eyeviewinanaeroplane。

Thatparableaboutfitsmycase。IhavebeeninthecloudsandI’vebeenscorchingonthepikes，butwhatIwaswantingwasintheditchallthetime，andInaturallymissedit……Ihadthewrongstunt，Major。Iwastoohighupandrefined。I’vebeenprocessingthroughEuropelikeBarnum’sCircus，andlivingwithgeneralsandtransparencies。NotthatIhaven’tpickedupalotofnoos，andgotsomeveryinterestingsidelightsonhighpolitics。ButthethingI

wasafterwasn’ttobefoundonmybeat，forthosethatknewitweren’tgoingtotell。Inthatkindofsocietytheydon’tgetdrunkandblabaftertheirtenthcocktail。SoIguessI’venocontributiontomaketoquietingSirWalterBullivant’smind，exceptthathe’sdeadright。Yes，Sir，hehashitthespotandrungthebell。Thereisamightymiracle—workingpropositionbeingfloatedintheseparts，butthepromotersarekeepingittothemselves。Theyaren’ttakinginmorethantheycanhelpontheground—floor。’

Blenkironstoppedtolightafreshcigar。HewasleanerthanwhenheleftLondonandtherewerepouchesbelowhiseyes。I

fancyhisjourneyhadnotbeenasfur—linedashemadeout。

’I’vefoundoutonething，andthatis，thatthelastdreamGermanywillpartwithisthecontroloftheNearEast。Thatiswhatyourstatesmendon’tfigureenoughon。She’llgiveupBelgiumandAlsace—LorraineandPoland，butbyGod！she’llnevergiveuptheroadtoMesopotamiatillyouhaveherbythethroatandmakeherdropit。SirWalterisaprettybright—eyedcitizen，andheseesitrightenough。Iftheworsthappens，KaiserwillflingoverboardalotofballastinEurope，anditwilllooklikeabigvictoryfortheAllies，buthewon’tbebeatenifhehastheroadtotheEastsafe。

Germany’slikeascorpion:hersting’sinhertail，andthattailstretcheswaydownintoAsia。

’Igotthatclear，andIalsomadeoutthatitwasn’tgoingtobedeadeasyforhertokeepthattailhealthy。Turkey’sabitofananxiety，asyou’llsoondiscover。ButGermanythinksshecanmanageit，andIwon’tsayshecan’t。Itdependsonthehandsheholds，andshereckonsitagoodone。Itriedtofindout，buttheygavemenothingbuteyewash。Ihadtopretendtobesatisfied，forthepositionofJohnS。wasn’tsostrongastoallowhimtotakeliberties。IfIaskedoneofthehighbrowshelookedwiseandspokeofthemightofGermanarmsandGermanorganizationandGermanstaff—work。Iusedtonodmyheadandgetenthusiasticaboutthesestunts，butitwasallsoftsoap。Shehasatrickinhand—thatmuchIknow，butI’mdarnedifIcanputanametoit。IpraytoGodyouboyshavebeencleverer。’

Histonewasquitemelancholy，andIwasmeanenoughtofeelratherglad。Hehadbeentheprofessionalwiththebestchance。Itwouldbeagoodjokeiftheamateursucceededwheretheexpertfailed。

IlookedatSandy。Hefilledhispipeagain，andpushedbackhisskincapfromhisbrows。Whatwithhislongdishevelledhair，hishigh—bonedface，andstainedeyebrowshehadtheappearanceofsomemadmullah。

’IwentstraighttoSmyrna，’hesaid。’Itwasn’tdifficult，foryouseeIhadlaiddownagoodmanylinesinformertravels。IreachedthetownasaGreekmoney—lenderfromtheFayum，butIhadfriendsthereIcouldcounton，andthesameeveningIwasaTurkishgipsy，amemberofthemostfamousfraternityinWesternAsia。Ihadlongbeenamember，andI’mblood—brotherofthechiefboss，soIsteppedintothepartreadymade。ButIfoundoutthattheCompanyoftheRosyHourswasnotwhatIhadknownitin1910。ThenithadbeenallfortheYoungTurksandreform;nowithankeredaftertheoldregimeandwasthelasthopeoftheOrthodox。

IthadnouseforEnverandhisfriends，anditdidnotregardwithpleasurethe_beaux_yeuxoftheTeuton。ItstoodforIslamandtheoldways，andmightbedescribedasaConservative—

Nationalistcaucus。Butitwasuncommonpowerfulintheprovinces，andEnverandTalaatdaren’tmeddlewithit。Thedangerousthingaboutitwasthatitsaidnothingandapparentlydidnothing。Itjustbideditstimeandtooknotes。

’Youcanimaginethatthiswastheverykindofcrowdformypurpose。Iknewofolditslittleways，forwithallitsorthodoxyitdabbledagooddealinmagic，andowedhalfitspowertoitsatmosphereoftheuncanny。TheCompanionscoulddancetheheartoutoftheordinaryTurk。Yousawabitofoneofourdancesthisafternoon，Dick—prettygood，wasn’tit？Theycouldgoanywhere，andnoquestionsasked。Theyknewwhattheordinarymanwasthinking，fortheywerethebestintelligencedepartmentintheOttomanEmpire—farbetterthanEnver’s_Khafiyeh。Andtheywerepopular，too，fortheyhadneverbowedthekneetothe_Nemseh—

theGermanswhoaresqueezingoutthelife—bloodoftheOsmanlifortheirownends。ItwouldhavebeenasmuchasthelifeoftheCommitteeoritsGermanmasterswasworthtolayahandonus，forweclungtogetherlikeleechesandwewerenotinthehabitofstickingattrifles。

’Well，youmayimagineitwasn’tdifficultformetomovewhereIwanted。Mydressandthepass—wordfrankedmeanywhere。I

travelledfromSmyrnabythenewrailwaytoPandermaontheMarmora，andgottherejustbeforeChristmas。ThatwasafterAnzacandSuvlahadbeenevacuated，butIcouldhearthegunsgoinghardatCapeHelles。FromPandermaIstartedtocrosstoThraceinacoastingsteamer。Andthereanuncommonfunnythinghappened—Igottorpedoed。

’ItmusthavebeenaboutthelasteffortofaBritishsubmarineinthosewaters。Butshegotusallright。Shegaveustenminutestotaketotheboats，andthensenttheblightedoldpacketandafinecargoof6—inchshellstothebottom。Thereweren’tmanypassengers，soitwaseasyenoughtogetashoreintheship’sboats。Thesubmarinesatonthesurfacewatchingus，aswewailedandhowledinthetrueOrientalway，andIsawthecaptainquitecloseintheconning—tower。Whodoyouthinkitwas？TommyElliot，wholivesontheothersideofthehillfrommeathome。

’IgaveTommythesurpriseofhislife。Aswebumpedpasthim，Istartedthe"FlowersoftheForest"—theoldversion—ontheantiquestringedinstrumentIcarried，andIsangthewordsveryplain。Tommy’seyesbulgedoutofhishead，andheshoutedatmeinEnglishtoknowwhothedevilIwas。IrepliedinthebroadestScots，whichnomaninthesubmarineorinourboatcouldhaveunderstoodawordof。"MaisterTammy，"Icried，"whatforwadyeskailadacenttinklerladintilacauldsea？I’llgieyeyourkailthroughthereekforthisploythenexttimeIforgaitherwi’yeonthetapo’Caerdon。"

’Tommyspottedmeinasecond。Helaughedtillhecried，andaswemovedoffshoutedtomeinthesamelanguageto"pitastootherttaeasteybrae"。IhopetoHeavenhehadthesensenottotellmyfather，ortheoldmanwillhavehadafit。Henevermuchapprovedofmywanderings，andthoughtIwassafelyanchoredinthebattalion。

’Well，tomakealongstoryshort，IgottoConstantinople，andprettysoonfoundtouchwithBlenkiron。Therestyouknow。

Andnowforbusiness。Ihavebeenfairlylucky—butnomore，forI

haven’tgottothebottomofthethingnoranythinglikeit。ButI’vesolvedthefirstofHarryBullivant’sriddles。Iknowthemeaningof_Kasredin。

’SirWalterwasright，asBlenkironhastoldus。There’sagreatstirringinIslam，somethingmovingonthefaceofthewaters。Theymakenosecretofit。Thosereligiousrevivalscomeincycles，andonewasdueaboutnow。Andtheyarequiteclearaboutthedetails。

AseerhasarisenofthebloodoftheProphet，whowillrestoretheKhalifatetoitsoldgloriesandIslamtoitsoldpurity。HissayingsareeverywhereintheMoslemworld。Alltheorthodoxbelievershavethembyheart。Thatiswhytheyareenduringgrindingpovertyandpreposteroustaxation，andthatiswhytheiryoungmenarerollinguptothearmiesanddyingwithoutcomplaintinGallipoliandTranscaucasia。Theybelievetheyareontheeveofagreatdeliverance。

’NowthefirstthingIfoundoutwasthattheYoungTurkshadnothingtodowiththis。Theyareunpopularandunorthodox，andnotrueTurks。ButGermanyhas。How，Idon’tknow，butIcouldseequiteplainlythatinsomesubtlewayGermanywasregardedasacollaboratorinthemovement。Itisthatbeliefthatiskeepingthepresentregimegoing。TheordinaryTurkloathestheCommittee，buthehassomequeerpervertedexpectationfromGermany。ItisnotacaseofEnverandtherestcarryingontheirshoulderstheunpopularTeuton;itisacaseoftheTeutoncarryingtheunpopularCommittee。AndGermany’sgraftisjustthisandnothingmore—

thatshehassomehandinthecomingofthenewdeliverer。

’Theytalkaboutthethingquiteopenly。Itiscalledthe_Kaaba—i—hurriyeh，thePalladiumofLiberty。TheprophethimselfisknownasZimrud—"theEmerald"—andhisfourministersarecalledalsoafterjewels—Sapphire，Ruby，Pearl，andTopaz。YouwillheartheirnamesasofteninthetalkofthetownsandvillagesasyouwillhearthenamesofgeneralsinEngland。ButnooneknewwhereZimrudwasorwhenhewouldrevealhimself，thougheveryweekcamehismessagestothefaithful。AllthatIcouldlearnwasthatheandhisfollowerswerecomingfromtheWest。

’Youwillsay，whatabout_Kasredin？Thatpuzzledmedreadfully，fornooneusedthephrase。TheHomeoftheSpirit！Itisanobviouscliche，justasinEnglandsomenewsectmightcallitselftheChurchofChrist。Onlynooneseemedtouseit。

’ButbyandbyIdiscoveredthattherewasaninnerandanoutercircleinthismystery。Everycreedhasanesotericsidewhichiskeptfromthecommonherd。IstruckthissideinConstantinople。NowthereisaveryfamousTurkish_shakacalled_Kasredin，oneofthoseoldhalf—comicmiracleplayswithanallegoricalmeaningwhichtheycall_orta_oyun，andwhichtakeaweektoread。Thattaletellsofthecomingofaprophet，andIfoundthattheselectofthefaithspokeofthenewrevelationintermsofit。ThecuriousthingisthatinthattaletheprophetisaidedbyoneofthefewwomenwhoplaymuchpartinthehagiologyofIslam。Thatisthepointofthetale，anditispartlyajest，butmainlyareligiousmystery。Theprophet，too，isnotcalledEmerald。’

’Iknow，’Isaid;’heiscalledGreenmantle。’

Sandyscrambledtohisfeet，lettinghispipedropinthefireplace。

’Nowhowonearthdidyoufindoutthat？’hecried。

ThenItoldthemofStummandGaudianandthewhisperedwordsIhadnotbeenmeanttohear。Blenkironwasgivingmethebenefitofasteadystare，unusualfromonewhoseemedalwaystohavehiseyesabstracted，andSandyhadtakentorangingupanddowntheroom。

’Germany’sintheheartoftheplan。ThatiswhatIalwaysthought。Ifwe’retofindthe_Kaaba—i—hurriyehitisnogoodfossickingamongtheCommitteeorintheTurkishprovinces。Thesecret’sinGermany。Dick，youshouldnothavecrossedtheDanube。’

’That’swhatIhalffeared，’Isaid。’Butontheotherhanditisobviousthatthethingmustcomeeast，andsoonerratherthanlater。

Itakeittheycan’taffordtodelaytoolongbeforetheydeliverthegoods。Ifwecanstickitoutherewemusthitthetrail……I’vegotanotherbitofevidence。IhavesolvedHarryBullivant’sthirdpuzzle。’

Sandy’seyeswereverybrightandIhadanaudienceonwires。

’Didyousaythatinthetaleof_Kasredinawomanistheallyoftheprophet？’

’Yes，’saidSandy;’whatofthat？’

’OnlythatthesamethingistrueofGreenmantle。Icangiveyouhername。’

IfetchedapieceofpaperandapencilfromBlenkiron’sdeskandhandedittoSandy。

’WritedownHarryBullivant’sthirdword。’

Hepromptlywrotedown’_v。_I。’

ThenItoldthemoftheothernameStummandGaudianhadspoken。ItoldofmydiscoveryasIlayinthewoodman’scottage。

’The"I"isnottheletterofthealphabet，butthenumeral。ThenameisVonEinem—HildavonEinem。’

’GoodoldHarry，’saidSandysoftly。’Hewasadashedcleverchap。HildavonEinem？Whoandwhereisshe？forifwefindherwehavedonethetrick。’

ThenBlenkironspoke。’IreckonIcanputyouwiseonthat，gentlemen，’hesaid。’Isawhernolaterthanyesterday。Sheisalovelylady。Shehappensalsotobetheownerofthishouse。’

BothSandyandIbegantolaugh。ItwastoocomictohavestumbledacrossEuropeandlightedontheveryheadquartersofthepuzzlewehadsetouttounriddle。

ButBlenkirondidnotlaugh。AtthementionofHildavonEinemhehadsuddenlybecomeverysolemn，andthesightofhisfacepulledmeupshort。