“He had no time to write,” pursued Hanna, evasively, “but I have carried his words.”
“But is he—is he——” gasped Cecil. “He is not dead?”
“O my lady, he is dead. I am come unto thee with the last words he said.”
“Go on,” said Cecil, hoarsely, her tearless eyes searching the man’s face.
“I can tell thee but little, O my lady, for all was done so quickly. My master and I left Hillah with our mules in the train of the Pasha, desiring to pass through the mountains in safety. But on a certain day there was an attack made upon the rear-guard, and the robbers succeeded in getting between it and the main body. There was a great turmoil, for all the traders and their beasts were mixed up with the soldiers and the enemy upon a narrow ledge of rock, and in the confusion a band of Kurds separated some of us from the rest, and dragged us away by force. Among these were my master and I, for he had bidden me keep close beside him. Then they bound our hands and fastened us to their saddles, and led us along many steep and winding paths, going continually farther into the mountains. But my master said, ‘Courage, Hanna! don’t lose heart. We will yet slip away from them,’ and I was cheered, knowing his coolness and bravery. But at last they left the horses behind, and began to climb up rocks such as the wild goats love, still leading my master and me with them. So then we came to a valley in the highest part of the mountains, in which there was a pool of water and some sheep, and when my master saw the place, he said, ‘Our wanderings are over, O Hanna, for they would never have shown us this stronghold of theirs had they meant us to leave it alive.’ Now in this valley were caves, and into one of these they thrust my master and me, leaving us without food or water for two days and nights. But on the third day one of the Kurds in passing called out to us between the stones at the mouth of the cave, ‘Dogs of Christians, prepare for death!’ Then while my master and I looked at one another, the rest came and took down the stones and led my master away. But as he went he turned and said to me, ‘If thou shouldst escape, seek out Mdlle. Antaza, and say this to her from me’—and truly, O my lady, I have repeated it night and morning on my fingers, lest I should forget it, for it was seven English words”—and spreading out his hand, Hanna read off mechanically, “‘Good—bye—dar—ling—God—bless—you.’”
A choking sob burst from Cecil, but she signed to the man to continue.
“That was the last time I saw my master alive, O my lady. But that evening they led me forth also, and I thought that surely my hour of death was come, but they took me only to the brow of a precipice, and told me to look down. And looking down, I saw——”
“What?” asked Cecil, sharply.
“I saw my master’s body lying far below, in the Armenian dress he had worn, in a pit as deep as Jehannam. And the robbers laughed at me, and bade me mark the place well, saying, ‘Thy master’s turn to-day, thine to-morrow.’ Then they led me back, more dead than alive with fear; but behold! before we reached the cave we found coming to meet us certain other Kurds, who had only just arrived in the stronghold, and those with me stopped to salute them and to ask them of their welfare. And after welcoming them they killed a sheep and made a feast, leaving me in the cave, but with no stone at its mouth. And when they were eating and were merry, and it was dark and no guard set, I crept out, and finding the sword of a man who had thrown it aside while he ate, I cut through my bonds. Then, taking the sword with me, and some bread that lay near, I stole away, and when I was out of earshot of the Kurds, I started to run. But how I found the way down the mountain, or how I did not fall and die, I cannot tell; I know only that I made my way hither, and for three days have I watched for thee, O my lady, to give thee the message of the dead. But into the town I could not come, for the watchman at the gate drove me away.”
“And what wilt thou do now?” asked Um Yusuf.