We had done half our journey—the hardest half. We were certain of the rest. We expected some difficulty with the Turks, and we had much.
Sandy disappeared. We knew where to look for him. We went to the gaol and demanded his release. And the Turks released him. They were positive that he was the committaji who had brought us through their country, and they refused to let him proceed with us. After discussion by wire—which required several days—instructions came from our old friend Hilmi Pasha to send us back, without our Sandy. But we refused to go without Sandy. This deadlock lasted for a week. Meanwhile we telegraphed to the British Consul-General at Salonica, signing the telegrams in one instance ‘Moore and Booth,’ in another ‘Booth and Moore.’ Translated into Turkish the signatures arrived at the Consulate ‘Mor-o-bos’ in one case, ‘Bot-o-more’ in the other. We were known to our friends by these names thereafter.
The Consul visited Hilmi Pasha (who was then in Salonica), and got permission for us to proceed with our dragoman. Hilmi had some hard words for us, the least of which were ‘Ces vagabonds!’
We received a telegram in Turkish from the Consul, and took it to the kaimakam for interpretation. The kaimakam read, ‘Monsieur Boot et Monsieur Mo-ré, you may depart for Drama, as you desire, but your interpreter must be left behind.’
We felt somewhat sick.
Another telegram to the Consul-General.
The reply came at midnight. In the morning we took it to a Christian. We told him nothing of the kaimakam’s interpretation of the first. He puzzled over the characters for a few minutes, then wrote in French, ‘Telegraphed to you yesterday, Hilmi Pasha gives permission to proceed to Drama and take interpreter.’
We went back to the kaimakam. He offered us chairs, but we declined to sit. He offered us cigarettes, and we declined them.
‘Kaimakam Bey,’ said we, ‘we are going out of here to-morrow morning and our interpreter is going with us. Good-morning.’