"The Consul has already interfered," said Artin.
"What do you mean?" testily asked the Consul.
"The English flag is flying from the top of the college," said Artin. "I took it out of your baggage and put it up. Now, for the honor of your country, you can't haul it down again."
The Consul's face cleared. "It's a fearful responsibility you've forced on me."
Accompanied by Mr. Marsh and Artin, he went into the court-yard. The Kurds were already beginning to batter in the gates.
The gates soon came down with a crash, the Turkish regulars outside looking on with an amused grin, and licking their lips at the thought of what was to follow.
But the English Consul strode out through the gates. He was unarmed, and his life hung on a thread. Then a Turkish officer came forward. "Effendi, this is no business of yours. You had better leave."
The Consul pointed to the British flag flying from the college tower. "Whilst that flag is flying here," he said, proudly, "this is English ground. Now enter if you dare."
After a hurried consultation with the Turkish officer the disappointed Kurds drew off, and rode into the town to continue their butchery.
"I did all I could directly I knew what was going on," said Artin the Kurd, to Mr. Marsh the American.