Still, at first, in the Armenian Quarter, the feeling was one of relief. When a naked sword that has been held at your throat is suddenly withdrawn, your first sensation is delightful, whatever the next may be. It took the Armenians some days at least to realize two awful facts: that their friends and relatives outside were hopelessly lost, and that they were themselves straitly shut up and besieged.
Had the Meneshian family been twelve hours later in entering the town, not one of them, probably, would have been left alive. Their journey from Biridjik to Urfa had been a most perilous one, as every Moslem in the country seemed to be in arms against them. They could scarcely have accomplished it at all but for an expedient of Kevork's. Jack had provided a Kourdish dress for him, as well as for himself and for Shushan, supposing that he would return with them to Urfa. He wore this during the journey, and rode boldly in front of the party, whose guide and protector he was supposed to be. He had changed it, however, before entering the city, as he never dreamed of danger there, and imagined it would expose him to ridicule.
Great anxiety was felt about Miss Celandine, and the other inmates of the Mission premises. But this, as far as Jack was concerned, was soon allayed, though in a way that caused his friends a terrible alarm. Two zaptiehs came to the Vartonian house, enquiring for one Grayson Effendi. Every one thought nothing less than that he had been identified in the crowd at the gate as the man who used the revolver, and that this summons meant imprisonment, as bad or worse than death. Great was the relief when it proved to mean only a polite request to visit Miss Celandine. True to his system—and he does everything upon system—the Turk would not willingly injure a foreign subject. Miss Celandine therefore was not only left unmolested, but given a guard of zaptiehs to protect her premises from the mob. These zaptiehs did their work faithfully; and it seems that some of them at least were won to regard their charges with respect and liking.
Jack went to the Mission House, as safe in reality as if he had been walking in a London street, though under the escort of men who, at a word from their captain, would have torn him limb from limb with the greatest pleasure in the world. He found the mission premises crowded with persons who had taken refuge there during the late disturbances. Many of them were wounded, and all were destitute. The courtyard was filled with them, as well as most of the rooms of the house. Miss Celandine—who, since the departure of her youthful fellow-worker, had stood completely alone—looked ten years older than when he saw her last. Thinner she could scarcely be, but her eyes had dark circles round them, and her face an abiding look of horror. She led him into the only private room she had left, and made anxious enquiries about the state of the Armenian Quarter, which, although it was at her very gates, it was practically impossible for her to enter. Then she said, "Mr. Grayson, I am sending to the Pasha to ask for a passport."
"It is what any one would do in your place—what any one else would have done long ago," he answered.
"This is why I do it. The danger seems over here. The massacre is stopped. Yet I cannot resume my work amongst the people; that is not permitted to me. Here I am useless; I am only witnessing misery I cannot relieve. But in England or America I could do a great deal. I could tell the truth—the very truth—about what is done here. If England and America knew that, I think it would change everything. I am persuaded better things of my fellow-Christians than that they would sit still and tolerate the destruction—with every aggravation of refined, diabolical cruelty—of a nation of Christians, only because they are Christians."
Miss Celandine seldom spoke in this way; but her heart was hot and sore within her, she had just been hearing a recital of horrors such as may not be mentioned here, and was in no mood to guard her words. The hatred of Turks for Armenians is a growth of centuries, rooted in complex causes; but the fact that they are Christians lifts the bridle from the jaws of the oppressor, making every act of cruelty to them a merit—their extermination a holy war. And since by embracing Islam they would come under the protection of the Prophet, it is because of their firm adherence to their faith that these unhappy ones are given over to the sword, and worse.
"You are right to go," Jack said simply. "And oh!" he added, his eyes kindling and his whole face changing, "you will take Shushan with you? That is what you mean—why you sent for me. God bless you, ten thousand times!"
The smile that lit up the worn face made it very sweet to look upon. "Yes, my dear boy," she said. "I do mean that. But I dare not take her with me, either as Shushan Meneshian, or under the name she has now a right to bear. It would cause too much remark and enquiry. No; she had better pass as one of my servants, a certain number of whom I have the right to take. But this is what I sent for you to ask: Will you also apply for a passport, and come with us?"
Jack was silent. Indeed, he could not speak, for the fierce hope, the passionate longing that arose within him was too strong for words. To leave all this misery, to stand with Shushan on the shores of England—free!