... had they entered any other town in the world, their grotesque
appearance would have excited attention
Now, had two men attired as were Curtis and Lindbohm at that moment entered any other town in the world, their grotesque appearance would have excited attention, not to say jeers, and a crowd of small boys would have been following at their heels. The gray Prince Albert was wrinkled and faded, and so badly shrunken that it caused Lindbohm's arms to fall a trifle akimbo. Altogether, it was a garment very inharmonious with the tall yellow boots into which his trousers were tucked, and the gaudy handkerchief which, twisted about his brow, did service for a hat. He had picked up a slender stick, which took the place of the bamboo cane, and with which he occasionally warded off an imaginary thrust, as he strode up the street, looking eagerly about him. Curtis' once natty business suit had been torn in several places. He also wore Cretan boots, and his costume was completed by a Turkish fez provided by the hospitable Major, who had managed, in addition, to afford his two guests a bath, and an opportunity to shave.
Lindbohm was quite voluble.
"Bear up, my friend," he said; "we shall surely find her. Remember that she was in a Turkish house, the very safest place she could be in."
Curtis continued to be silent and preoccupied, a condition which the Swede attributed to the fear that something had happened to Panayota, and that their long search would be rendered vain at the very end. Yet he could not understand the American's seeming listlessness, mingled with absorption and perplexity.
"He acts like a man who has been hit on the head with a musket butt," thought the Swede, glancing shrewdly at his companion. "Great heavens, can it be that he has a presentiment of evil?"
Then aloud:
"We must go straight to the military authorities—to the English. We will tell them all about Panayota, and if Kostakes has her yet they will yust make him give her right up—eh, my friend?"
"Ye-es," replied Curtis. "Yes, O yes; certainly."