In one of these consultations they were lamenting, as they often did, the impossibility of sending news of their condition to those outside who might help them. Post and telegraph were closed to them; and, as they surmised, to Miss Celandine also. Two or three messengers, with letters concealed about them, had gone forth secretly, and at terrible risk, but they had never been heard of again. The presumption was that they had fallen into the hands of the Turks. What more could the Armenians do?
Then John Grayson rose up in his place, between Kevork and Avedis, and these were the words he said,—
"Friends, I will be your next messenger. Will you trust me?"
A murmur of astonishment ran round the assembly. The personal friends of Jack, and they were many, began to protest against his exposing himself to so great a danger; and indeed every one thought his life too valuable to be lightly risked.
"What would my sister say?" Kevork whispered.
And Jack answered, "She would say, 'Der-ah haadet allà' (The Lord be with you)." Then raising his voice, "It is the best way all round, if you will look at it. You need not endanger me or yourselves by writing anything; for I know all, and can tell it. If I am caught, I have still a good chance of escape; for I will tell the Turks I am an Englishman, and that they touch me at their peril."
"They will not believe you, and you have no proof to offer," said old Hohannes, with a face of much concern, for he loved Yon Effendi as a son.
"I have proof, father. I can speak and write English for their edification, and talk big about Consuls and International Law, and the power of England. Whereas, if I am not taken, the gain is great. An Englishman who has seen what I have, can say things the English—and the rest of the world—ought to hear, and there is none to tell them."
"Amaan! That is true," several voices said.