Every tongue in the room broke loose. In another second every man was still. They looked toward Ephraim. He who could order a hanging so glibly should shoulder the new responsibility.
But Ephraim was not ready with a plan, and could not speak English.
Wild-eyed, he seized the lapel of my coat in trembling fingers, and
with a throat grown suddenly parched, crackled a question at me in
Armenian. I could have understood Volopuk easier.
"What does he say, Fred?"
"He wants to know how soon Kagig can be here."
"Kagig!" Ephraim echoed, clutching at my collar. "Yes, yes, yes!
Kagig! Come—how soon?"
"We shall be all right," said another man in English over on the far side of the room. His hoarse voice sounded like a bellow in the silence. "Kagig will come presently. Kagig will butcher the Kurds. Kagig will certainly save us."
"Kagig!" Ephraim insisted. "Come——how soon?"
But I knew Kagig would not come, that night or at any time, and Ephraim shook me in frenzied impatience for an answer.