“No, no!” she implored. “I have heard of him. Take pity upon me—a defenceless woman! I—I thought to escape from Turkey. I have no passport, so I left the train and hoped to get across the mountains into Montenegro, where I should be free.”
“Then you have escaped from your harem—eh?” asked Lûk, his curiosity now thoroughly aroused.
“Yes. But I have money here with me—and my jewels. I will pay you—pay you well, if you will help me. Ah! you do not know!”
Lûk was silent for a moment.
“When a woman is in distress the Skreli give their assistance without payment,” was his reply, and then, as day was breaking, he led her up the steep and secret paths to that little settlement where we now were—the headquarters of the all-powerful Vatt Marashi.
At the latter’s orders she unwound the veil from her face, disclosing the beautiful countenance of a Turkish girl of eighteen, and when she took off her cloak it was seen that beneath she wore a beautiful harem dress, big, baggy trousers of rich mauve and gold brocade, and a little bolero of amaranth velvet richly embroidered with gold. Upon her neck were splendid emeralds, pearls, and turquoises, and upon her wrists fine bracelets encrusted with diamonds.
She stood in the lowly hut before the chief and her captor Lûk, a vision of perfect beauty—looking “a veritable houri as promised by Mahommed,” as Lûk put it.
Vatt Marashi listened to her story. She had, she told him, escaped from her father’s harem because she was betrothed, as is usual in Turkey, to a man whom she had never seen. She had taken money from the place where one of the black eunuchs hoarded it, and with the assistance of a young officer, a cousin of hers, had succeeded in leaving the capital in the baggage-waggon of the Orient Express. Unable to procure a passport, however, she dare not attempt to cross the frontier into Bulgaria, for she would at once be detected, refused permission to travel, and sent back. For a Turkish woman to attempt to leave Turkey in that manner the punishment is death. So at some small station near the frontier, the name of which she did not know, she had, under cover of night, left the train, and taken to the mountains. For four days she had wandered alone, until Lûk had discovered her.
“And what was done with her?” I inquired, much interested.
“Well,” replied my companion. “She elected to remain with us, our chief giving her assurance that she would be well and honourably treated. He pointed out that had she been a man he would have demanded of the Sultan a heavy ransom for her release, but as she was a defenceless woman, and alone, she was not to remain a prisoner. If she cared to accept the offer of the protection of the Skreli, then every man of his tribe would defend her, and her honour to the last drop of blood remaining in their veins. The word of Skreli, once given, is, as you know, never broken.”