The Commandant’s wife had been boasting round Yozgad of a coming access of wealth, and this in spite of a previous warning by the Spook. Kiazim was therefore made to give her a thoroughly good scolding, and forbidden to speak to her for a fortnight.
Then there was the Cook. Orders had come from Constantinople to demobilize men of 50 years and over. The Cook fell within that class, but the Commandant was unwilling to “demob.” him without the permission of the Spook. After some delay, the Spook graciously granted permission to Kiazim to free the Cook from all military duties, but insisted that he should continue to attend to the domestic wants of the mediums. For this both the Cook and the Commandant thanked the Spook, while Hill and I listened with grave faces.
A matter which rankled a little was that the Commandant was still in possession of the two Turkish gold liras, which we had dug up with the clues. The Spook accordingly ordered a hacksaw and a small vice. These were borrowed by the Turks from a goldsmith in the town. The Spook then made Hill cut each coin into three equal parts, and gave Hill and myself the parts of the coins bearing the dates, while the Cook and Pimple each got a section, and the remaining two portions went to the Commandant, one for himself and one for his wife. “These portions,” said the Spook, “bind you all together in my brotherhood, to be faithful and true to my behests. That is one function. The other function is to deceive AAA; for these are the exact duplicates of the original tokens. You must wear these tokens as the originals were worn—round your necks. I prefer not to explain yet how they will be used to deceive AAA, because that is still a long way off, but you must always wear the tokens to be ready.”
The Turks readily obeyed, and so far as I know they are still wearing their tokens. They did not realize our object. It was to render comparatively useless the only thing of value the Spook had “discovered,” and at the same time to provide us with an additional proof of Kiazim’s confederacy with us. Should the occasion arise for us to denounce him it would cause him some trouble to explain how we all came to be wearing portions of the same coin if we were not in some sort of league together.
The Pimple was justly unpopular with the camp. Everybody knew he took toll of our parcels before they were delivered to us, and in addition to his thieving he had an objectionable habit of coming round the recipients of parcels after delivery, and begging here some tea and there some chocolate, and so on. It was unwise to refuse, because if you did he would see to it that the next package of books that arrived would be sent back to Constantinople for re-censoring, and books were very precious to us prisoners. Had he chosen he could have done much to render our imprisonment less irksome, but he knew he was top dog for the time being, and took advantage of his position.
The Spook therefore set about permanently ridding the camp of their pet aversion, and it did so by fanning the flame of ambition that was consuming the poor fool. “You are wasting time in Yozgad,” it said; “nothing comes to him who does not ask. You are clever! Strike out for your betterment. Throw modesty to the winds.” (Heaven knows he had little to spare!) “You are a good lad. Make other people realize it. Do not stagnate in Yozgad while great careers are being made elsewhere. Why don’t you try to get to the heart of things?” (Moïse pleaded the cost of living at Constantinople, and the Spook went on): “A crust of bread where there are big men to watch you earn it is better than rich meats in a wilderness. I am taking you to Constantinople. I have arranged for a man in your place here. Mind you stay there.”
Moïse thanked the Spook warmly for its advice and begged for instructions as to how he could stay at the capital. He was ordered on arrival at Constantinople to go to the War Office, say he knew Turkey was being hard pressed by its enemies and demand to be sent to the fighting line. This, the Spook assured him, would obtain him his commission. The unhappy Pimple was horror-struck at the idea of having to fight, but the Spook promised that he would be quite safe, and as soon as he got to Constantinople the little ass did as we desired. The Turkish War Office was so astonished at obtaining a volunteer at this stage in the war that they gave him a commission straight off, granted him a month’s leave to wind up his affairs and then clapped him into the officers’ training school, where he was fed on skilly and drilled for eight hours a day. He utilized his first afternoon off duty to come to me in the mad ward of Haidar Pasha hospital, where he literally wept out his sufferings into my unsympathetic ear and implored the Spook to get him better treatment. The Spook reminded him he had offered to share the starvation of the mediums and informed him that he was now “doing his bit,” and it is fair to the Pimple to record that when he heard the verdict he dried his tears, held his head high, and announced that he was proud to do his duty by our great cause; henceforward, he said, he would endure the torments of bad food, bad lodging and hard physical exercise without a moan. He never complained again, but he sometimes referred with regret to the luxuries of his old post at Yozgad,—and we felt the camp was avenged.
One other thing we did for the camp. On the 24th the Changri prisoners arrived. We knew from the Turks that the reason for their coming to Yozgad was their refusal to give parole not to escape. Several of them—Le Patourel, Lowndes, Anderson, Johnstone, and Cochrane (of “450 Miles to Freedom” fame) came to see us and told us that practically the whole party intended to escape. We were invited to join but our transport was already ordered by the Spook and it was too late to alter our plans had we wished it. Then we learned from the Pimple that the Changri Commandant (who accompanied the new prisoners to Yozgad) had warned Kiazim that they were a set of desperate characters who were undoubtedly planning to escape. Kiazim had therefore made up his mind to lock up the camp again under the conditions which had prevailed when we first arrived at Yozgad; but before doing so he wished to consult the Spook. Would we grant him one last séance before leaving Yozgad?
We did. Our last séance in Yozgad was held on the night of the 24th April, 1918, and almost the last question with which the Spook dealt (I quote the record) was:
“The Commandant presents his compliments to the Control and wishes to know if any of the Changri prisoners have the idea of escaping.”