“They are a bit over-exposed,” Hill grumbled—he is never wholly satisfied with his own performances—“I gave them too long.”
Maybe! But it says something for the nerve of the man that he had held the camera without a quiver for three time exposures under those conditions. I could see nothing wrong with the negatives. They were everything I desired, and Bimbashi Kiazim Bey, Commandant of Yozgad, was clearly recognizable in each.
At last we had our proof.
CHAPTER XVIII
OF A “DREADFUL EXPLOSION” AND HOW OOO SOUGHT TO
MURDER US
We had long since decided that the most appropriate date for finding the second (and last) of the two clues we had made, would be the First of April. Hill had buried it, he told me, some four miles away on the bank of a gully beyond the Pinewoods, known to the camp as “Bones’s Nullah.” The photographs being already taken, we had no troubles to contend with, or fears of discovery to disturb us, and we set out next day in true April-fooling spirit. As we walked through the town in our black cloaks, we passed Lieut. Taylor, R.E., who was inside a shop making purchases for the camp larder. Taylor was one of two officers in the camp who definitely knew from Nightingale that the spooking was a fraud. He was also a fellow-townsman of mine, and a very good friend. He saw the water-bottles and haversacks we carried, and jumped to the conclusion that we were being sent away from Yozgad. Like the good fellow he was, he took no thought of himself, and paid no heed to the Commandant’s order that no one was to communicate with us. Brushing aside his escort he ran into the middle of the street and shouted after us to know where we were being taken.
“It is April Fools’ Day,” I whispered to Moïse, “I’m going to pull his leg.” Then, turning round, I shouted back the one word “Sivas” (the name of a distant town in Anatolia).
“I’ll write home to your people,” Taylor roared; “you keep alive and we’ll get you out. We’ll report the blighters to Headquarters.” He knew the Pimple must understand him, and braved the wrath of the Turks to cheer us up.
“He’s a good fellow,” Hill whispered, “tell him it’s all right.”