“That is the kiosk,” Ahmed said at last, pointing to one standing by itself near the water’s edge on a projecting point of land, and in a few minutes the caique swept in to the stairs. Ahmed had quietly passed a few small silver coins into Horace’s hand, whispering in Greek:
“Give them these as you land; an extra tip is always welcome.”
Then he paid the men as he got out, saying to them:
“I expect the ladies in a few days. You had better go up each morning to the house, and then you can secure the job.”
Horace dropped the coins into the boatman’s hand, with a nod, as he stepped out, and then they walked up to the house. The boatmen again lighted their pipes for a smoke before starting back on their long row. The kiosk was shut up. Mourad opened the door with a key, and threw the shutters open.
“I wonder you leave the place entirely shut up,” Horace said.
“There is nothing to steal,” Ahmed laughed. “A few mats for the floors and cushions for the divans. The cooking pots and crockery are locked up in a big chest; there is little else. There are a few vases for flowers and other ornaments stowed away in a cupboard somewhere, but altogether there is little to tempt robbers; and, indeed, there are very few of them about. The houses are always left so, and it is an almost unknown thing for them to be disturbed. You see everything is left clean and dusted, so the place is always ready when we like to run down for a day or two. The house has not been used much lately, for my parents and sisters have been two years at Athens, and I have been frequently away at our estates, which lie some fifteen miles west of Constantinople. Now we will take a turn round, while Mourad is getting dinner ready.”
The latter had brought with him, in addition to the box, a large basket containing charcoal, provisions, and several black bottles.
“There is a village half a mile farther along the shore, where he will do his marketing to-morrow,” Ahmed had explained as he pointed to the basket.