The most obvious way to accomplish my object was by bribery, and it was of bribery that I first thought. The difficulties were twofold: first, there were no means of getting money in sufficient quantity; second, supposing I got the money together, I could see no method by which the camp could satisfy the Constantinople authorities that it had gone into the pocket of the Commandant. The Turk takes bribes, readily enough, but he is exceedingly careful how he takes them, and he covers up his tracks with Oriental cunning. If I could not provide the camp with proof of the Commandant’s guilt, I might as well save my money and bolt without bribing him.
I was trying to convince myself that these difficulties ought not to be insuperable when the Interpreter first evinced an interest in spooking, and the Commandant’s belief in the supernatural was proved by his official notice of May 6th (see p. 51). From that moment I discarded all thought of bribery. I was filled with the growing hope that my door to freedom lay through the Ouija. And first and foremost in pursuance of my plan, I aimed at inveigling the Commandant into the spiritualistic circle and making him the instrument of my escape. The news that there existed a buried treasure which the Turks were seeking gave me an idea of how to do it.
To my fellow-prisoners the farcical hunt for the revolver had appeared a complete success. To me it was a bitter failure. I felt that if the Spook’s achievement in finding the weapon did not bring out the Commandant, nothing would. But day followed day, and he made no sign. A considerable experience of the Eastern mind made it easy enough for me to guess the reason for his reticence. Like the Oriental he was, he wished above all things to avoid committing himself. He clearly intended to work entirely through his two subordinates, the Interpreter and the Cook. If anything went wrong, he could not be implicated. If everything went right, and the treasure were discovered, he could use his official position to seize the lion’s share. It was clear that there would be a long struggle before I could get into direct touch with the Commandant. I decided that the Pimple must learn for himself that he could get “no forrarder” with the Spook until he put all his cards on the table. It was to be a battle of patience, and knowing something of Oriental patience, I almost despaired.
Time and again after the revolver incident the Pimple attended séances. To his amazement and regret he found the attitude of the Spook had undergone a complete change: for a long time nothing but abuse of the Turks emanated from the board. The Spook was very angry with them for exceeding instructions and continuing to dig after the revolver had been found. Not one word would It say about the treasure. The Pimple apologized to the board abjectly, humbly, profusely. It made no difference. The Spook turned a deaf ear to all the little man’s pleas for forgiveness. Its only concession was to produce a photograph of the owner of the treasure on a piece of gaslight paper which the Pimple obtained in the bazaar and held to his own forehead at a séance. With commendable perseverance the Pimple kept up his appeals for two months. Then at last he delivered himself into my hands. He lost his temper with the Spook.
“Always you are cursing and threatening,” he said to the glass, “but you never do anything. Can you manifest upon me?”
“To-night,” answered the glass, “you shall die!”
“No! Please, no! Nothing serious, please! I beg your pardon! Please take my cap off, or my gloves! I only wanted you to move something!”
“Very good,” said the Spook, “I shall move something. For this occasion I pardon. I shall not kill. But to-morrow morning you shall suffer. I shall manifest upon you.” The Spook then went into details of what would happen to the Pimple to-morrow morning.
Two hours later we gathered in my room, as usual, to discuss the séance, and as usual the Pimple drank cocoa—our cocoa—with infinite relish. He enjoyed it very much that night, because it was extra sweet. That was to cover any possible flavour from the six grains of calomel I had slipped into his cup!
I met him again on the afternoon of the following day. He looked pale.