“That you can’t,” the man said decidedly. “If he were in the civil prison it might be done; but the pasha, guessing perhaps that many of us Christians would sympathize with them, or possibly having an idea that the mob might rise, handed them over to the soldiers, and they are confined in a room in the military prison in the centre of the barracks, where there are lots of sentries. The gates have been closed since they were taken there, and no civilian is allowed to enter under any pretence. So you see there is no bribing to be done. Of course the sentries are changed frequently. There is no knowing what officer has the prisoners specially under his charge. And even if he were bribed, there would be no getting them past the sentries. So you can give up the idea altogether of getting your brother out.”
“How long does it take for a messenger to go from here to Smyrna?” Zaimes asked, with a slight glance at Horace to show that he was changing the conversation purposely.
“By ordinary travelling some two weeks; but a mounted messenger, with relays of horses, can do it in four days.”
“Then in another three days the answer may come from Smyrna?”
“That is so. I wonder myself that the pasha took the trouble of sending to the governor of Anatolia, instead of hanging the prisoners at once.”
“I suppose he thought that the governor might like to have them sent to him, so that he could forward them to Constantinople.”
“Are you thinking of delaying the messenger’s return? That might be done, you know.” And the man drew his finger across his throat significantly.
“I don’t see that the delay would be of any use,” Zaimes replied. “If there is no chance of getting my brother out, it matters not whether the messenger arrives to-day or a fortnight hence. However, it is a matter that may be worth thinking over later. At any rate we will go out and have a look at the barracks. Will you go with us? I am not without money, and can make it well worth your while to aid us by your advice.”
“I am ready enough,” the man said. “Trade is dull, and a man must live; and besides, I would gladly save a Christian and a native of my own island from the Turks.”
“I would not trust him too far,” Zaimes said in an undertone to Horace when the man went into the apartment behind to speak to his wife. “He is now inclined to help us, especially if he thinks that he will be well paid for it. But we had better not let him know anything of our plans. When he saw there was danger, what with fear as to his own safety and the hope of a bigger reward than he could expect to get from us, he might decide to turn traitor. We had better let him suppose that we have given up all hope.”