"It is good, my uncle," returned Nikka, affecting to speak to Hugh. "Continue the watch. If there is more to report bid one of your young men lounge before the khan where we are staying to-morrow in the forenoon."
"It shall be done," said the old man, and he elbowed his way through our ranks as though in haste to cross over.
I looked behind us for the inevitable spies. There were several Levantines in European dress and tarboosh on the corner—and Hilmi Bey, who pretended that he was not noticing us. His attitude was that of scorning to spy and hating to have it supposed that he could demean himself to so plebeian a phase of crime. I called a greeting to him in derision.
"Are you walking our way?" I asked.
"I have a house in the Rue Midhat Pasha," he answered effusively. "I am going to visit my wives. It is a long time since I have seen them. Don't let me detain you, gentlemen. I turn right at the opposite corner."
"A vain dog," commented Nikka, sourly watching Hilmi's plump back. "He was afraid to be caught in such an ordinary undertaking.'
"Well," said Hugh, whose temper had improved, "it goes to show that criminals are human beings. Every one of these birds seems to have some sense of shame if you can only pick out the right point of contact."
We led our escorts—for we took it for granted that we were under observation—a dilatory stroll, and arrived back at the Pera Palace in time for dinner, which, as usual, we had served in the King's sitting room. It was a leisurely meal, for we had time to kill. There was an early moon, and we wanted it to set before the Curlew left the Golden Horn.
After Watkins had brought the coffee, Betty excused herself. She returned in a quarter of an hour dressed in a warm sport suit instead of the light evening frock she had worn, and carrying two boxes of cartridges.
"Have you all got your pistols loaded?" she inquired. "Watkins? Daddy?"