"Inshallah, effendim, I am not so named for nothing," returned the man, beaming with pride and satisfaction. "Of a truth I am more than a match for Abdi the Liar."
CHAPTER IV
THE COMING STORM
Two hours' hard riding brought Frank and his party, in the dusk of evening, to a large village on the edge of the plain of Erzerum. There was little or no danger of further molestation; in populous places an attack on a well-known English merchant might entail disagreeable consequences, since the authorities would be almost forced to take action; all the same, Frank wished that he could have completed his journey without pause. But that being impossible, he put up at a respectable khan or inn, where he persuaded the innkeeper, by means of excess payment, to agree to keep his door closed against any travellers who might arrive subsequently. Frank preferred not to have to spend the night under the same roof as Wonckhaus, who could not be far behind him on the road.
His forethought bore fruit. Soon after he had retired to rest, with his head pillowed on his precious carpet, there was a loud banging on the door, and a rough voice bawled for the khanji. That amiable hosteller at first feigned sleep, but the pretence could not be long kept up through a din that might have roused the fabled sleepers of Ephesus. He got up, cursing, and moved to the door.
"Remember our bargain," Frank called through the partition dividing his select guest-chamber from the common room of the inn.
The man mumbled something in answer, and Frank, wondering whether his promise would hold out against the importunity of the newcomers, listened anxiously to the colloquy that ensued at the door.
"O khanji!" bawled the voice outside.
"Ahi!" was the sleepy response.
"O khanji!"