Frank Forester: A Story of the Dardanelles - Herbert Strang

One afternoon in July 1914, a party of five men was making its way slowly through a defile in the hills of Armenia. The singular verb is strictly appropriate, for the five men kept close together, always in the same order, and, being mounted, might have appeared to a distant observer almost as one monstrous many-legged creature, hideously shaped.

At a nearer view, however, the spectator would probably have been interested in the various composition of the party, and in certain picturesque elements pertaining to its individual members. The foremost, preceding the rest by three parts of the length of his grey horse, was a study in colour. A black turban surmounted a copper-coloured face, the most striking feature of which was a thin aquiline nose hooked at the extremity, with finely arched nostrils, and a deep dent between bushy brows out of which gleamed sloe-black eyes. On either side of his nose streamed a long, black, fiercely twirled moustache, and his shaven chin stuck out with a sort of aggressive powerfulness. A blue tunic clothed him from shoulders to waist, where he was girt with a red sash bristling with a dagger, a long knife, and several pistols. Baggy white trousers were tucked into long red boots fitted with large spurs. In his right hand he held a long bamboo lance, from which dangled a number of black balls.

The two men who rode behind him, the necks of their horses level with the buttocks of his, were not so picturesque. On the right was a young Englishman of about twenty years, whose clean-shaven face was ruddy with health and exposure to the weather, and whose grey-blue eyes were shaded from the sun by the peak of a white pith helmet. He wore white drill, with a leather belt, and brown riding boots. His companion, a slight, sallow-faced youth of about the same age, was also dressed in white, but there was something in the cut of his garments that forbade his being supposed an Englishman. Close behind these two, mounted on mules which were laden with bundles of odd shapes, rode two sturdy bearded figures, whose dark features were markedly oriental. They wore turbans and tunics which had once been white, baggy red trousers, and heavy boots of undressed leather. Rifles were slung on their backs, and long knives stuck out of their belts.

The track was stony and tortuous, winding through a jagged cleft in the hills. On either side, at varying distances from the path, rose pinnacles of rock, through fissures in which the riders caught occasional glimpses of fertile valleys below, or of solitary fastnesses or monasteries perched high among the crags. Now and then a bend in the defile opened up a view of the distant peaks of the Taurus mountains. It was wild and desolate country, growing wilder as they advanced.

They rode almost in silence. The two muleteers addressed each other sometimes in murmurs, and it might have been gathered from the expression of their countenances that they did not relish their job and were becoming increasingly uneasy. The sun was hot, and the heat reflected from the rocks struck up into the riders' faces and made them shiny with sweat. But the uneasiness of the muleteers was moral rather than physical. They were Armenians, and their journey was taking them deeper and deeper into the wilds of Kurdistan, among the strongholds of the immemorial oppressors of their race. They were not without a lingering suspicion of their leader, the picturesque person of the hook nose. He was a Kurd, and though he had guaranteed the safety of the party, they had no great confidence in the good faith of a Kurd.

No anxieties of this kind troubled the Englishman. But as the afternoon waned he became a little impatient. Ali the Kurdish guide had assured him twenty times that the end of the journey was near, yet hour followed hour, and they had not yet arrived. Since there was no doubt that Ali knew the way thoroughly, it could only be supposed that his notion of distance was imperfect. There were camp gear and provisions on the mules' backs; Frank Forester had already spent one night in camp since leaving Erzerum, and did not view with any pleasure the prospect of a second night; in these heights, 6000 feet above sea-level, the nights, even after the hottest days, were bitterly cold.

"Come now, Ali, aren't we nearly there?" Frank said at length, addressing the Kurd in a mixture of Arabic and the local dialect.

"Very near, very near," said the man, extending his arm towards what appeared to be a blank wall of rock.

"He's a man of two words," said Frank, with a shrug, to his companion on the left. "I hope we shall get there before dark."

"Yes, before dark," repeated the youth, in a thin scrapy voice.

There was silence again. The track became rougher, the wall of rock on each side steeper. At one spot Frank noticed a number of boulders, large and small, piled on a ledge almost overhanging the track.

"That's rather dangerous," he remarked. "If they fell they would block the road."

"That is what they are there for, effendim," said Ali, turning and flashing a glance at the pile. He explained that expeditions led by Turkish governors had more than once come to grief in these hills. The Kurds knew how to deal with the Osmanli.

A few minutes afterwards Ali came to a sudden halt, and hurriedly bade the other members of the party draw in towards the left, under cover of a projecting spur.

"What is it?" asked Frank.

"Men coming towards us, ten or twelve," replied the man. "We must wait until I can see who they are."

"Have they seen us?"

"Who can say? But I think I stopped before they saw us."

"Why?"

"Do they not call me Eagle Eye?" said the man proudly.

Frank smiled. There was an amusing simplicity about Ali's self-esteem.

"Well, what do you make of them?" Frank asked after a minute or two.

The Kurd, peering round the edge of the rock, had shown more and more interest as the approaching party drew nearer.

"Wallaby! It is Abdi the cursed. I know Abdi and his evil eye. A bad man, truly, for he will sin against a true believer as readily as he will kill a Giaour. He is hated by all and feared by most. We must not meet him."

"But you don't fear him, Ali?"

"Allah knows I fear him not; but I gave my word for the safety of your nobleness and these poor creatures, and it is not well we run into danger from Abdi and his larger party. Besides, there is with him, riding by his side, the dog German----"

"What, Wonckhaus?"

"Even so, effendim. That curdles your cream, or call me a liar."

"He has stolen a march on us, Joseph," said Frank, turning to his companion. His tone expressed deep annoyance. "He wouldn't have come into these parts on any other errand, and I shall be mad if he has pulled off the deal.--I don't want to meet Wonckhaus, Ali. Can we get out of the way until he has passed?"

Ali cast a keen look around. In a few moments he discovered what he sought--a gap in which the party might remain concealed. He led them through the narrow passage between two large masses of rock, turned the corner, and instructed them to cover the animals' heads with cloths. They were now within twenty yards of the track, but wholly out of sight from it.

Some ten minutes later they heard the ringing clatter of hoofs on the stones, and the voices of men. Peeping out, Frank and Ali watched the party ride by. By the side of a villainous-looking Kurd rode a big German in loose grey clothes with a blue sash about his ample waist. Behind came nine or ten Kurds variously attired, all armed to the teeth, mounted on horses laden with packs. It was a wild fierce group, and the Armenians, peering timorously round the edges of the rock, heaved a sigh of relief when the last of the party had disappeared. The sounds died away. When all was silent Ali chuckled a "Wallahy!" and led the way back to the track.

"Very near now, effendim," he said.

"I hope we are," rejoined Frank. "Joseph, I wonder whether Wonckhaus has got my carpet?"

"God forbid!" said Joseph solemnly.

CHAPTER II

CONCERNING A CARPET

Frank Forester was the son of the owner of a large oriental carpet business, whose headquarters was in Constantinople, with branches in several parts of Asia Minor and Persia. Except for his school years in England, Frank had lived all his life in the East. He spoke Turkish like a native, and could make himself understood in Arabic and in the various local dialects in which Turkish, Arabic, and Persian all have component parts.

For some months he had been in charge of the small branch house at Erzerum, where he conducted the business with the aid of Joseph, his Armenian clerk. A few days before the incident just related, a bazar rumour had come to his ears which suggested a promising stroke of business. It was to the effect that an important Kurdish chief, living about two days' journey to the south, had been so heavily squeezed by the Turkish governor of the province that he felt himself forced to raise money by parting with a very valuable old Persian carpet that had long been an heirloom in his family. Tradition said that it was part of the loot obtained by an ancestor of the chief at the sack of Shiraz during one of the civil wars that ravaged Persia in the seventeenth century. It held among his hereditary possessions the same place as a precious jewel or an Old Master among the treasures of a western house. The rumour that it was coming into the market caused as much excitement among carpet dealers as the announcement of the approaching sale of a Correggio or a Rembrandt would cause among the connoisseurs of New York.

Frank Forester was thrown into a flutter when the first whispers reached him. He had not hitherto taken an important part in his father's business, and it was only recently that he had been placed in charge of a branch. The chance of signalizing his stewardship by securing the carpet appealed to his imagination as well as his business instincts. But the problem was, how to bring off a deal with the chief. The old Kurd was not likely to condescend to travel to the town. On the other hand there would be some risk in making a journey to his mountain fastness. The country in which it lay bore the worst of reputations. Even the Turkish authorities never ventured into it without a strong military escort, amounting in fact to an expedition. The peaceful, timid Armenian traders would have ventured into a den of lions as soon as into the hill country where for centuries no Armenian had ever penetrated except as a captive.

Frank's interest in the matter was complicated and heightened by business rivalry. A year or two before, a German named Hermann Wonckhaus had come to Erzerum and set up in business as a carpet dealer next door to Mr. Forester. The Englishman, who had been established there for many years, felt too sure of his position to regard the arrival of his competitor with any alarm. He met him, indeed, in the friendliest spirit, and at first did him some small services in a business and a social way. But it soon became clear that Wonckhaus was a snake in the grass. There were signs that his object in settling next door to Mr. Forester was to keep a watch on him, with a view to discovering with whom he traded and endeavouring to cut into his connection. Once or twice Mr. Forester found himself forestalled in business transactions by the German, and as soon as he became aware of his rival's crooked methods he put himself on his guard and maintained only the coolest of relations with him. Still, he was not greatly troubled. The Armenian, shifty as he may be himself in business, respects rectitude in others, and Mr. Forester knew that if it ever came to a straight pull between himself and the German the result would be in his favour. He lived very simply, without parade; Wonckhaus, on the other hand, kept up a considerable style, and aimed at a kind of leadership in the small European colony. He was a man of good presence, great ability and certain social gifts, by means of which he became a personage; but though he had pushed himself into a position of influence he was always regarded with some distrust by the Europeans other than his own countrymen; and the natives, very shrewd in their silent estimate of western strangers, had taken his measure pretty thoroughly.

Knowing that the bazar rumour would certainly have reached Wonckhaus's ears, Frank was anxious to lose no time in opening negotiations with the Kurdish chief for the purchase of the carpet. It was obvious that his best course was to make a personal visit to the owner. He sent for a Kurd whom his father had sometimes employed and found trustworthy, and enlisted his services as guide to the distant stronghold. Ali confessed that the journey would entail some risk, but he promised that he would do his utmost to ensure the safety of the party, and in fact they had come without adventure within a mile or two of their destination when the appearance of Wonckhaus on the track showed that he had again forestalled his rival. The only question now was, had he managed to strike a bargain with the chief and brought away the carpet among his packs?

When Frank resumed his journey, he discussed the chances rather anxiously with Ali. The Kurd took a pessimistic view.

"Abdi is a nephew of the chief Mirza Aga," he said. "Does he not always boast of his relationship in the bazar? He is a liar by nature, but in that he speaks the truth. Therefore it is that the German has taken him as guide. Without doubt Abdi said to him: 'I am in high favour with my uncle, Allah be good to him, and when I say to him, this is the excellency that will give a good price for the carpet, he will bless me, and perhaps bestow upon me some poor fraction of the money.' Without doubt we have eaten the dust of our journey for nothing."

"Well, we'll go on and prove it. Having come so far I won't go back without knowing the truth."

A march of a little over an hour brought the party to a narrow side track that wound up into the hills. It was some time before a turn in the toilsome ascent opened a view of the chief's stronghold. Perched high up on the mountain side, it resembled in the distance a child's building of wooden bricks; but its massive proportions and structure became impressive as the travellers gradually mounted towards it. In this country of mean hovels its appearance was palatial. The lower part consisted of solid masonry broken by one large gate and two or three small square windows, unglazed and shutterless. Upon this stout pillars supported a number of arches surrounding an open chamber or arcade rectangular in shape and covered with a flat roof. To the left of the arches was a second storey whose walls were as solid as those of the lower; within these, as Frank knew, were the women's apartments. The whole place was silent; to all appearance it might have been uninhabited.

Ali went forward to the great gate and shouted for admittance. After a while a peep-hole was exposed by the sliding of a small wooden hatch, and a man inquired his errand, then slid the hatch to, and departed. Frank had become accustomed to oriental sluggishness and the need for patience. Presently the gate-keeper returned and held a lengthy conversation with Ali, after which he retired again.

"What are we waiting for?" asked Frank: remaining in the background he had not heard the colloquy.

"Wallahy! Mirza Aga will not show the light of his countenance to a German, and required me to swear by the beard of the Prophet that your nobility is not German but English."

"That's promising," said Frank cheerfully. "It looks as if nephew Abdi is not quite such a favourite as he pretends."

"Allah is wise!" said Ali.

In a few minutes the massive gate swung open, giving admission to a large courtyard. Here a handsome youth, the chief's grandson, came forward with a smile of welcome. Frank dismounted, gave his horse into the care of an attendant, and followed the youth up a stately stone staircase, ornamented on either side with richly-carved oak balusters, into the salamlik or presence chamber of the old chief. It was a lofty and spacious apartment, the walls and ceiling composed of curiously carved cedar wood. The floor was covered with thick Persian rugs; the walls were embellished with texts from the Koran, and blunderbusses, scimitars, curved daggers and other weapons arranged in tasteful patterns. At the further end a fire of logs roared in a huge fireplace, the wall above being decorated with arabesques and scrolls.

Near the fireplace, reclining among an exuberance of silk pillows and cushions, was the old, white-bearded, turbaned chief, smoking a long chibouque. At the entrance of his visitor he rose, bowed several times, murmured "Salam aleikam," and clapped his hands. An attendant immediately came in, bearing a number of rugs and pillows which he spread on the floor near the chief. Luxurious as they appeared, Frank knew that they were probably swarming with vermin, for Kurdish magnificence takes no note of such trifles, and he racked his brains for an excuse to avoid the use of them. Explaining that in his country such soft seats were only proper to the ladies, which seemed to amuse the chief, he squatted cross-legged on the floor, and spent some minutes in exchanging the flowery salutations usual in oriental society. Then the chief, who had already learnt the object of his visit from Ali through the gate-keeper, invited him to partake of supper, declaring that there must be no talk of business that night. Without waiting for an acceptance, he clapped his hands again, and servants brought in a profusion of dishes--meat, fish, poultry, and various fruits--a pleasant meal after the long day's journey, even though Frank had to use his fingers instead of a knife and fork. The meal was prolonged; fatigue and the heat of the room made Frank sleepy; and he was glad when the old man's grandson came to conduct him to the guest chamber.

"He has honesty and benevolence written all over him," thought Frank, as he stretched himself, rolled in his greatcoat, on the bare floor, after bundling the doubtful mattresses and cushions provided for him into a corner. "I rather think I may score off Wonckhaus this time after all."

Next morning came the business interview.

"You must know, O welcome guest," said the old man, "that yesterday there came to me one from Erzerum, under the guidance of a graceless nephew of mine, a man in whom there is no truth or virtue at all. The stranger, a man of the German race, they told me, wished to buy my carpet, and offered me a sum that would scarcely have purchased the clothes on my back. Wallahy! Did he wish to pull my beard? I answered him shortly that I was no bazar merchant to haggle and chaffer; whereupon he made excuses, and perceiving that it was truth I said, he offered a price that was fair, and one that I was fain to accept. But lo! when I asked him to pay over the money, the infidel spoke of a written paper, for which, he told me, they would pay me money in Stamboul. Wallahy! His tongue was smooth, but his eye was deceitful. I said forthright that I would not trust him. Little I know of the German race; they are a new kind of Giaour to me; but so much as I have heard of them did not tempt me to part with my carpet against a German promise. Whereupon our words waxed hot, and Abdi my worthless nephew must needs take part with the German--verily he hoped to fill his pouch at my expense; and my wrath was kindled, and I bade the German depart. And Abdi my nephew flouted me to my beard, and I spoke my mind freely to him, a dog that slinks about the houses of better men, snapping up what falls, and licking what is cast out. And they departed, he and the German.

"Now therefore come and look upon the carpet."

He conducted Frank through the open arcade into a lofty room on the other side of the house. On the way Frank throbbed with mingled hope and fear. Orientals were prone to exaggeration: the much-talked-of carpet might turn out to be a very ordinary specimen, even a modern fabric cunningly "faked," for he was aware of the tricks practised by dishonest dealers to delude the unwary. Once, indeed, he had himself detected by the sense of smell the use of coffee to give a new rug the mellow tones of age. But hope was stronger within him than fear. The old chief looked honest: he had refrained from boasts and the flowery puffs of the huckster, and Frank felt that the carpet was probably genuine, though possibly not quite so valuable as rumour declared.

The old man opened the door, and stood back with a courteous inclination of the head to allow his visitor to pass in before him. He did not speak a word. Frank halted in the doorway, transfixed with wonder and delight. Hanging on the wall opposite was a beautiful rug, about eighteen feet by twelve, in which his expert eye discerned at once an antique product of the looms of Khorassan. He had lived among carpets from childhood, and knew the characteristic features of all the many kinds of eastern fabrics. On a deep blue ground were woven floral patterns in magenta, red, and blue, with spots of ivory here and there; and on the wide border was the unmistakeable palm-leaf design of Khorassan, with details that proved it to be the workmanship of a particular family of weavers, renowned for its artistic ornament and harmonious colouring. Age had mellowed the tints, but their brilliance was little diminished, for the ancient dyers had secrets which are the despair of the chemists of to-day.

He crossed the room and touched the surface of the rug. It was soft as velvet. He examined the knots and the stitches, felt the thickness of the pile, then turned round.

"It is magnificent, chief," he said.

"It is good work, effendim," replied the chief. "My family has possessed it for two hundred years."

"Well now, let me tell you my method of business. We are not hucksters of the bazar, you and I. Their custom is to ask more than they expect to get, or to offer less than they are prepared to pay. That is not my way. I offer at once the sum which I am ready to give, and I never make a second offer. If it is acceptable, well and good; if not, we part friends."

"That is well, effendim. My ears are open."

"I will pay you £500 Turkish for the carpet."

The old Kurd reflected a moment or two. Then he said:

"That is a fair price, effendim. The carpet is yours."

"Thank you. I have not brought the money with me; it is dangerous country, chief," he added with a smile. "But I will either send it you when I return to Erzerum, or----"

"It is enough, effendim," interrupted the chief. "You are an Englishman: your word is good. Your countrymen, it is true, are not the good friends of mine that they used to be. It is told me, indeed, that the German Emperor, and not your King, is willing to help us to regain the lands we lost in the late disastrous war. But I trust the word of an Englishman. The Germans I do not know: that one who came to me came with my nephew Abdi, the master of lies! Take the carpet: it is yours. You may send the money when you will."

"I thank you for your confidence, chief; but such an arrangement would not be fair to you. Something might happen to me; you would have no security. I will ask you to take a draft on the Ottoman Bank."

He took out his cheque-book and fountain pen, and wrote the draft, which the chief accepted with a deprecating bow. Orders were given for the carpet to be rolled up, covered with sacking, and placed on the back of one of the mules. The business having been thus satisfactorily concluded, the chief invited Frank to share his morning meal, after which he accompanied him with a small escort of horsemen for a few miles on his return journey.

CHAPTER III

DISTURBERS OF TRAFFIC

About noon on the following day, when Frank and his party were proceeding slowly northwards through the hills, they met a Kurd on horseback. Ali exchanged salutations with him; he was on his way, he said, to the house of Mirza Aga.

Some ten minutes afterwards, at a bend in the track, they were met by a second Kurd. The usual greetings again passed between the fellow-countrymen, and this traveller also explained that Mirza Aga's house was his destination. But when the party passed on, Ali, whose manner with the stranger had been cold and curt, glancing over his shoulder, noticed that the man had ridden a few paces in the same direction, then halted as if in irresolution, and was at that moment apparently making up his mind to continue his journey southward.

"Wallahy! Effendim, here is a strange thing," said Ali in a low tone. "I know that man. Surely I saw him with Abdi the Liar when he passed us the other day."

"Strange indeed! He cannot have been to Erzerum and back."

"Abdi devises mischief, effendim. It is well that we watch that man."

Riding slowly on until the bend in the track hid the Kurd from sight, Ali slipped from his saddle, and, asking Frank to accompany him, cautiously climbed the rear of a rocky bluff a little way off the track. From the top of this eminence, themselves unseen, they were able to overlook a long stretch of the track behind them, and in the distance, something more than half a mile away, they descried the stranger, no longer proceeding towards the house of Mirza Aga, but coming in their direction.

"Verily it is some evil device of Abdi, effendim," said Ali. "Let us go on our way, and consider this matter. Abdi is cunning as a serpent, but it will go hard with me if I do not bring his tricks to nought."

They returned to the track, remounted, and resumed the march, keeping a wary look-out in all directions.

"Consider, effendim, why did that man delay and turn when he met us?"

"That is nothing strange in this lawless country," said Frank. "A man would naturally be curious and suspicious of strangers."

"True; but having seen that we are a party of peaceful travellers carrying merchandise--for the Armenians and you yourself, effendim, wear no pistols in your belts, though I know you have revolvers somewhere in your garments--having seen that, I say, why does the dog march on a little way, then turn about and follow us? Is it not the work of one that spies on another?"

"It looks possible, certainly."

"Of a truth it is so, and I swear that Abdi and his crew are not far ahead."

"What of the first man, who preceded him? Was he watching us too?"

"Who can say, effendim? He has gone quite out of sight. Who can sound the depths of Abdi's craft? He is a liar and a worker of mischief. May it not have been told him by some gossip on the way that we had gone to seek Mirza Aga? Well he knows for what purpose, and would it not be an easy thing, in these solitudes, to lie in wait for us, and to fall upon us, they being the greater number, and slay us, and rob us of that we carry? Truly there is no bottom to Abdi's wickedness, and I beseech you, effendim, pardon me in that I have unwittingly led you into a snare."

"That's nonsense, Ali. Whatever happens, it's not your fault. If it is as you say--and I shouldn't be surprised, for in wild country like this they've endless opportunities of surprising us--we must see if we can't defeat their schemes."

This conversation had been conducted in low tones, in the hearing of Joseph only. Ali had an inherited contempt for the Armenian porters, who indeed would have been paralysed with fright at a suspicion of danger.

It was clear that to continue on their present course would be to run straight into the trap which Ali suspected was prepared for them. Ali suggested that they should halt, allow the man behind to overtake them, and observe his bearing when he encountered them again.

Accordingly they drew rein at a secluded spot, where the track broadened a little, making a salient into the precipitous sides. Ali climbed to a position whence he could scan the track in both directions. Some time passed, and when the supposed scout did not appear, Ali crept back stealthily along the track to discover what had become of him. In about ten minutes he returned. "Come with me, effendim," he said mysteriously.

After walking rather more than half a mile, Ali raised his hand and pointed to a spot high up in the hills on their left hand. At first Frank failed to discover the object indicated, but presently he noticed a whitish speck moving along the greyish face of the rocks.

"Is that he?" he asked.

"That is the dog, as I live," replied Ali. "He has gone up into the hills by a track that I know not. See, effendim, he moves fast; he comes this way. Is it not his intent to outstrip us, and give tidings of our coming to Abdi where he lurks beyond?"

"You may be right, Ali. We can spoil his game by not going on. Let us return to our men, bring them back, find out where he left this track, and follow him over the hills."

"It is good, effendim. To watch the watcher--yes, it is very good."

Soon the whole party was retracing its course. The halt and the movements of their employer had made the Armenians uneasy; but there was only cheerful assurance in the demeanour of Frank and the Kurd; and the men, if not reassured, at least gave no utterance to their fears.

About a mile back they discovered a spot, marked by a few stunted trees and bushes, where a narrow mountain path branched from the broader track. Into this they struck. It wound up into the hills, at first so steeply that the laden mules with difficulty maintained their footing; but after a time it became less arduous, and the party pushed on with greater speed. It was nearly two hours before they caught sight of the man. From that moment they had to combine speed with caution: to keep pace with the Kurd so as not to lose him from sight, but to take care that he should neither see nor hear them.

At length the mountain path took a downward trend, suggesting that it would ultimately rejoin the main track from which they had diverged. Here they lost sight of the scout through the frequent windings of the path. Presently they came to a narrow ledge dropping down very steeply. The ground was rough, and crumbled under the hoofs of their beasts. In spite of all their caution, they suffered a misadventure when still some distance above the junction of the the tracks. The ground gave way beneath the mule of one of the Armenians. It slid over the edge, and rolled with its yelling rider for nearly a hundred yards down a steep incline, until the fall was checked by a clump of prickly bushes. Neither man nor animal appeared to be seriously hurt, but the mule's load was scattered broadcast. Consisting as it did partly of camp utensils, to the clatter of displaced stones and the cries of the muleteer was added the clink and rattle of tins and iron pots as they bumped on the rocky ground.

The din was a greater misfortune even than the delay and the dispersal of the load. Just as the Armenian picked himself up, rubbing his elbows and shins, a head showed above the rocks a little to the left of the junction. In another moment Frank caught sight of the Kurd they had been following, riding at full speed back along the main track. Apparently he had been resting for a spell.

"Wallahy!" Ali ejaculated, cursing the mule and its rider and the ancestors of both.

There could be little doubt that his suspicion was well grounded. Abdi and his party--if Abdi was in truth the plotter--could not be far off, for the Kurd must have reckoned on being able to warn them before the expected prey reached the spot where they were waiting. How far away the ambush had been laid Frank could not guess.

"Cursed be that howling son of a cat!" cried Ali. "We must ride on with all haste, effendim. Peradventure the rascal Abdi is so far away that we shall have time to reach a village of the plain before he can overtake us. Wallahy! But our beasts are laden, and he has many horsemen without encumbrance. Yet there is no other way. We must leave that shrieking jackal and his load; there is no time to gather up the many things that are scattered."

"No, we can't leave him, but we'll leave the things," said Frank. "Get on your mule and ride with us," he called to the man.

Hastening down to the track, they pushed on with all possible speed in the direction of Erzerum. Laden as they were, the mules could not go at any great pace over the rough ground, and the carpet being the heaviest part of the load, the speed of the whole party was regulated by that of the mule bearing it. Frank suggested that Ali should ride ahead and bring back an armed escort from Erzerum; but the Kurd resolutely refused to divest himself of his responsibility for the safety of his employer, who for his part was determined not to lose sight of the carpet. They made what progress they could, then, Ali falling behind to act as rearguard and give warning of pursuit.

They had covered something less than two miles and were entering a long, fairly straight defile, when Ali closed up.

"They are coming, effendim," he said, "riding furiously, and the foremost of them is Abdi the Liar."

"Ah! And look at that," said Frank, pointing ahead.

Near the further end of the defile two figures were seated on a loose pile of rocks overhanging the track. Ali shot a glance towards them.

"Wallahy! the German!" he exclaimed.

Almost at the same moment the two figures rose. Clearly they had recognised Frank. And then Wonckhaus and his Kurd companion began with haste to roll rocks from the pile down the slope, obviously with the intention of blocking the track.

"Come, Ali!" cried Frank. "Joseph, look after the rest. Bring them along."

Urging their mounts to their best speed, the two men dashed along the track, and reined up only when they were in danger of being crushed by the rocks crashing down from above. The narrow path was already almost impassable. Frank sprang from his horse and began to clamber up the face of the cliff, followed, after a moment's hesitation, by Ali.

Twenty feet above them Wonckhaus stood irresolute. He held a jagged boulder, and seemed to be in two minds about hurling it straight upon the climbing Englishman. Some prudential instinct--it may have been a scruple--gave him pause, and his Kurd companion, taking the cue from him, held a large stone similarly poised.

"Wait a moment," said Frank coolly. "I won't keep you long."

Wonckhaus, somewhat taken aback by Frank's calmness, and the absence of hostility from his tone, watched him in silence as he climbed to his side.

"Another stone or two would have completely blocked the track," Frank went on.

Shooting a curious glance at him, Wonckhaus replied:

"That was my intention, Mr. Forester."

"Exactly. I don't want to interrupt your amusement, Herr Wonckhaus, but you will wait until my party has passed. A few moments will suffice. If you loose another rock till then, I shall throw you after it!"

Frank's nerves were tingling, but he spoke as quietly as if he was announcing the merest matter of fact. The German recognised at a glance that it was no empty threat, and his Kurd looked by no means comfortable under the menacing attitude of Ali, who had now joined them. Meanwhile, Joseph had come up with the carriers.

"Come straight through, Joseph," called Frank, "and lead my horse and Ali's. Go forward: we will overtake you."

As the mules were passing through the narrow gap that remained between the obstacles on the track, Abdi's party came in sight at the southern end of the defile half a mile distant.

"Now, my good sir," said Frank, as the last of his mules emerged from the gap, "we will help you to complete your amusing work. Ali, shove these stones down as fast as you can, and get your countryman to assist you."

Ali grinned and hurled a threat at the other Kurd; the two pushed the stones down the slope one after another in quick succession, while Frank, taking out his revolver, stood guard over the German. In a few seconds the track was wholly blocked up.

"We have saved you the trouble, Herr Wonckhaus," said Frank. "Good-day."

With Ali he slipped down to the track, ran after his party, sprang to the saddle, and was already some distance ahead and rounding a corner when Abdi and his cavalcade rode up. The Kurd leapt from his horse, scrambled up the barrier, and in his rage and disappointment fired after the retreating figures before Wonckhaus, uneasy about future developments, could check him. The shot flew wide, and Frank rode on.

To clear a way for the pursuers' horses would probably consume at least half an hour, an interval long enough to allow the party to reach the outskirts of a settled district where an open attack upon them would be dangerous. And Frank knew very well that Wonckhaus could hardly afford to be publicly associated with a manifest act of brigandage. Thinking over the circumstances of the trap from which he had escaped, he surmised that the German had intended the party to be intercepted by the Kurds several miles behind, and that he had gone ahead in order to arrive at Erzerum in time to establish a clear alibi if there should be any suggestion of his connection with the contemplated attack.

"A lucky thing for us you discovered that scout, Ali," said Frank. "I owe something to your eagle eye."

"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!"

"What is it I hear?"

"Are you Khanji Abdullah?"

"Ahi!"--a sleepy drawl that meant nothing.

"A curse on the deaf one!"

"Am I deaf, or to be cursed, or do I hear the ugly voice of a camel-driver?" asked the innkeeper artlessly.

"Where is Khanji Abdullah?"

"Who?"

"Khanji Abdullah-ah-ah!" yelled the voice, prolonging the name.

"Why do you wake honest sleepers, you dog of a dogson?"

"I wake folk? I wake folk? Have I the voice of an old dromedary? Have I the voice----"

Here the speaker's shrill tones were drowned by a chorus of curses and expostulations from the guests in the common room, among whose voices Ali's was raised the loudest. When the clamour had died down, the voice of the man outside could be heard again.

"Wallahy! May Allah cast his blight upon the khan and the khanji, upon your religion and your affairs, upon your wife and children and kinsmen and cattle."

"What is this outcry and cursing, O son of a camel?"

"Open your door for honest travellers in the night."

"Wallahy! My house is full; there is not room for one honest man, much less a rogue. Get you gone, and split the ears of Khanji Muhammad yonder; his khan is the place for rogues."

"What say you, O vile khanji? Know you that here is no rogue, but a noble Alman effendi of great size and weight, whose money-bags are brimming over like a cup overfull! Open then, khanji, without more display of ignorance and folly."

"It is easy to lie in the dark. What know I of an Alman effendi? Of his nobility I say nothing; but if he be of great size and weight as you say, mashallah! there is no room for him here. Let him begone with his money-bags to Khanji Muhammad; he is very poor and needy, whereas I am in no straits, praise to Allah! Get you gone, you with the voice of a camel, and let me return to my sleep. Ahi!"

A stream of imprecations burst from the lips of Abdi, dying down in the distance as he departed with Wonckhaus and his party towards the khan of Muhammad at the other end of the village.

"Was it not well done, and worthy of large bakshish?" said Abdullah, through the door of Frank's room.

"It was well done, khanji," replied Prank, "and the morning will bring what it will."

"Alhamdolillah!" the innkeeper piously ejaculated as he returned to his couch.

His guests settled themselves to slumber and were not disturbed for the rest of the night.

Frank's first act on reaching Erzerum in the afternoon of the next day was to lock up the carpet securely in his strong room. The warehouse was an annexe at the back of the dwelling-house. This was a substantial building of stone, backing on a hillside, with a flat roof covered, like the most of the better houses in the town, with green turf. It had a large arched door, but small windows, hardly bigger than portholes, filled, however, with glass, and not with oiled paper, which the natives commonly used. Mr. Forester had made the interior comfortable in an English fashion. The stone floors were strewn with Persian rugs; on the white-washed walls hung a few engravings, together with hunting trophies. The furniture was of English make.

As he passed through the office on his way to the strong room, Frank noticed on the desk a letter, in his father's handwriting. The carpet having been safely stowed away, he returned, put the letter in his pocket, and hurried out into the street: there was something to be done that brooked no delay, for Wonckhaus had arrived before him. He hastened down the street, which crossed a valley between his house and the Government buildings on the hill opposite, and made his way to the quarters of the military governor, with whom, after the long delay usual in the East, he was accorded an interview.

"I have come to lodge a complaint against Herr Wonckhaus and the Kurd Abdi," he said, when the preliminary courtesies had been exchanged. He related the incidents on the road. The Turkish governor listened to him coldly.

"I take a note of what you say, effendim," he said; "but you must know that Wonckhaus Effendi has already preferred a charge against you--that you blocked up the road with rocks, so that it was impassable. That, you are aware, is a serious offence. No one but a military officer in the exercise of his duty is permitted to block a road."

"As I have already explained, excellency," said Frank patiently, "I merely completed what Herr Wonckhaus had begun. His design was obvious: the steps I took were taken solely for the purpose of safeguarding my merchandise."

"It is told me that you threatened him with violence."

"I said that if he threw down any more stones--committing, as you remarked, excellency, a serious offence--I would throw him after them. That, I submit, was perfectly justifiable in the circumstances."

"I will not argue with you, effendim. You ought to have engaged zaptiehs for your protection on your journey. The matter cannot rest here. I must submit it to the governor of the province; it may have to be referred ultimately to Stamboul. Meanwhile, I must order you to keep the peace with Wonckhaus Effendi, who has felt it necessary to ask for protection."

Seeing that no satisfaction would be derived from further parley, Frank took his leave and set off for home. He was somewhat surprised at the coolness of his reception. The military governor had only recently taken up office in the town; his predecessor had been a close personal friend of Mr. Forester, and Frank had assumed, almost as a matter of course, that the new official would be a man of the same stamp and equally well disposed. It was clear, however, from this his first official interview, that the governor was unwilling to hear both sides of a case and come to a just decision, or that he was ready to exercise partiality on the side of Wonckhaus. Frank was not troubled about the ultimate issue. The reference of the matter to the provincial governor, and possibly to the authorities at Constantinople, would postpone any decision for months, perhaps years. Meanwhile he would put all the facts before his father, who would know, better than he, how to deal with them.

Thinking of his father reminded him of the letter in his pocket. He took it out, tore open the envelope, and read:

MY DEAR FRANK,

A serious storm is brewing in Europe. Austria has sent an ultimatum to Serbia that on the face of it means war. Serbia can't accept its terms without losing her independence, and Russia will certainly support her. That will as certainly cause Germany to move; then France is bound by the terms of her alliance with Russia to come in. Unless something very suddenly intervenes, all Europe will be in a blaze, possibly before you receive this. In the opinion of certain important people here the whole thing is a put-up job on the part of Germany, who is backing Austria with the deliberate intention of forcing a war before Russia has reorganized her army. There is great excitement here. German agents have been active for a long time, but the general opinion is that Turkey will keep out of it. She had enough of war two years ago, and her finances are now at the lowest ebb. Still, one can never be sure how far the Germans may succeed in duping or bribing the Turks. In my belief, everything depends on whether we shall be drawn in. Grey will work hard for peace; he may succeed as he has done before; but if he fails I can't see any possibility of our keeping out of it. France will be knocked out in a month if the German fleet gets to work; and we can't stand by and look on at such a catastrophe. Well, if we do come in, Germany will move heaven and earth to induce the Turks to make a bid for Egypt; and certain firebrands here are silly enough in their self-conceit to play Germany's game and ruin their country. I hope for the best, but you must be ready to clear out at a moment's notice. Unluckily I have an urgent call to London; am starting at once, but hope to return soon. Keep your eye closely on events: our consul will have the latest or all but the latest news; and if affairs look serious, I shall come to Erzerum, close down and bring away the stock. We should be all right here for a time, at any rate; and if the worst does happen it will be easier to shape our course here than in your wilds. Meanwhile hold on, and be circumspect.

P.S. Just as well to keep your eye on H. W.

Frank replaced the letter in his pocket. Here was food for thought indeed. He knew that, so complicated were the relations of the European Powers, the outbreak of war between any two of them might easily involve the others, and bring about that vast and universal struggle which had often been talked about, and as often dismissed as improbable if not impossible. To a rational person it seemed sheer madness that Europe should be plunged into strife over the affairs of one little Balkan nation: was it possible that the prophets who had foretold just such a cataclysm would prove to be right after all? And what of Britain? Frank had unbounded faith in the British navy, but would Britain be able to limit herself to the exercise of sea-power? Yet how could she take an effective part in land warfare with her small army?

Pondering these questions, Frank arrived at his house almost unawares. He was roused from his reverie by the sight of Wonckhaus standing at his door, smoking a big pipe. The German smiled and seemed to be about to address him; but apparently he changed his mind. Frank paid no attention to him, but passed into his own house and sat down to his evening meal with a preoccupied air.

CHAPTER V

UNDER ARREST

During the next few days, the town seethed with ever-increasing excitement. It became known that Germany had declared war on Russia and France, and the sole topic of conversation among the Europeans was, what would Britain do? Rumour flew apace; authentic news was slow in coming in by telegraph; but at last it was officially announced that Britain was at war with Germany, and almost immediately afterwards that the British Grand Fleet had been shattered in the North Sea. Frank, in common with the few other Englishmen in the town, scoffed at this; but the story found many believers, and it was noticed that Wonckhaus ran up a large German flag on his roof-top. Frank paid frequent visits to the British consul, who depended for his information on the Turkish telegraph officials, and there was reason to suspect that a strict censorship had already been established.

As usually happens in Asiatic Turkey when Europe is disturbed, there was growing racial excitement among the natives. The Armenians, a timid unstable people, incapable of effective combination, talked of revolution, and the lower-class Moslems of the town assumed a menacing attitude towards them. The Kurds in the country districts, it was rumoured, had already recommenced their attacks on the Armenians, and Frank was gravely apprehensive of massacres on a large scale. He instructed his Armenian employees to keep within doors as much as possible, and to avoid collisions with the Moslems. His chief clerk, Joseph, while sharing his fears, was not alarmed for his own safety. His father, a man of considerable business astuteness and organizing power, was a contractor to the 9th Army Corps, whose headquarters were at Erzerum, and in good relations with the military authorities. They hated him as an Armenian, but found him useful, indeed indispensable, as a business man, and when business is concerned, religion counts little with the Turk.

Public feeling was stirred to its depths when news came of the arrival of the Goeben and the Breslau at the Bosporus. There was at once manifested a great deal of military activity. New levies flocked into Erzerum, and there were movements of troops along the whole Black Sea coast. Large supplies were needed for them, and the contractor was busily employed. Frank found it hard to believe that Turkey would be so short-sighted as to take the field against the Allied Powers; but he noticed that Wonckhaus, whose air of self-importance was growing day by day, was frequently in communication with the military governor, and the announcement of German victories became a daily occurrence. Joseph reported that these victories were the talk of the town, and it was openly declared that the Germans would soon be in possession of Paris, that rebellions had broken out in India, Ireland, and South Africa, and that the Sultan was on the point of recovering Egypt, the British garrison having been withdrawn to fight in the West. Frank met black looks in the streets; trade was at a standstill: and in the absence of trustworthy news he began to fidget and to wish that his father would return.

One day a man ran into the office with a message for Joseph. A low-class mob had risen against the Armenians in the quarter in which his father's house was situated, and when the messenger left the rabble were battering on the contractor's door. Joseph at once rushed out, followed by Frank, who snatched up a revolver which he had made a practice of carrying in the streets during the past few weeks. There were unmistakable signs of commotion in the town. The Armenian shopkeepers were hurriedly shutting their booths; some were barricading their doors, others already speeding away with their portable goods to seek safety in remote quarters of the town or in the country without.

When Frank arrived on the scene of the disturbance the mob had broken through the gate into the courtyard, and were battering at the door of the storeroom.

"Stand aside there!" called Frank impulsively, elbowing his way through the throng.

He set his back against the door, and drawing his revolver threatened to shoot any man who ventured to renew the attack. The ruffians, who were armed only with sticks and clubs, fell back, overawed by the Englishman's authoritative voice and mien. Two elderly zaptiehs were looking on from the opposite side of the street. Without much faith in these official defenders of order Frank called on them to disperse the mob, or he would report them to the Governor. The policemen lifted their rifles and moved sluggishly towards him, pressing the mob aside without much energy. But the display of authority, such as it was, had the effect of thinning the mob. One man tried to work them up to resist, but finding himself left with a diminishing number of adherents, and perceiving a half company of regular troops marching up at the end of the street, he slunk away and disappeared.

For the moment the danger was past. Frank returned home with Joseph.

"That man, the ringleader, was one of Abdi's gang," said Joseph as they went along. "I noticed him among them that day in the hills."

"We'll have him arrested. You know where he lives?"

"I do not know. Ali will know."

"Then find out from Ali, and I will see the Governor."

But within an hour or two Frank was himself summoned to the Governor's palace.

"It is with grief and surprise I learn," said the Governor, "that you, a foreigner, have taken it upon yourself to give orders to my constables. What have you to say?"

"Seeing that the zaptiehs were looking on unconcerned at a set of ruffians assaulting the premises of your army contractor, excellency, I think that perhaps a foreigner's intervention may have done you a service."

Frank took a higher tone than he would have adopted had he not still felt the sting left by his previous interview with the Governor.

"It is inexcusable," was the reply. "You will henceforth keep to your own house. If you are seen in the streets you will be arrested. You English take too much upon yourselves."

Frank was too much surprised to expostulate, even if there had seemed any use in so doing. It was clear that his crime was the being an Englishman. Filled with a new anxiety as to the future, he left the palace, to find that he was to be escorted home by a file of infantrymen. On reaching the house he sent Joseph at once to ask the British consul to visit him.

"I think you had better remain quiet for the present," said that gentleman when the matter had been explained to him. "You are technically in the wrong, though the late governor would have thanked you for what you did. Wonckhaus is in the ascendant here. The authorities won't take any serious steps against you at present. Until that affair of yours with Wonckhaus is decided you need have no anxiety. Your course is certainly to lie low and refrain from the least appearance of provocation. You are expecting your father?"

"Yes, I am surprised that I haven't heard from him."

"Well, everything is more or less disorganized. Probably he will turn up unexpectedly one day and take you away with him. All indications point to the entrance of Turkey into the war. She has closed the Dardanelles--an ominous sign. Wonckhaus put it about to-day that Paris had fallen. I don't believe it, but the authorities are absolutely hypnotized by the Germans, and Enver Pasha, their tool, seems to be having it all his own way at Constantinople. I hope to get trustworthy information through a courier shortly; I don't believe what they dole out here. If Turkey does enter the war, I shall have to go, of course; and if your father hasn't arrived by that time, you must come away under my safe-conduct."

On leaving the house the consul perceived that the Governor's order to Frank was to be enforced: a sentry was already posted at the gate. He returned for a final word.

"It means that you are practically a prisoner," he said to Frank, "and it will probably be inadvisable that I should be seen coming here. But we can communicate through Joseph. I will make a formal report to our ambassador at Constantinople, who may possibly make a peremptory demand for your release, though while that unfortunate affair with Wonckhaus is still sub judice it may be difficult to move. But there's no need to be uneasy."

"That's all very well," replied Frank, "but my business is at an end, and the sooner I can get away the better. I don't think I ought even to wait for my father."

"You must be as patient as you can. In the present state of affairs you would never get your stock across country safely. I'll do all I can, and keep you informed through Joseph how things are shaping."

CHAPTER VI

RIGOUR

It was now the beginning of September. Frank had received no letters from Europe for two or three weeks, nor the parcel of London newspapers which he was accustomed to get by the weekly mail. He suspected that this had been confiscated by the officials. All the news he heard was that given out by the authorities, together with that which was brought him by Joseph, who was in a position to learn more than was common property. His father, Isaac Kopri, the contractor, included in his business organization a private intelligence department. He got important news as a rule long before the general public, and often before the officials themselves. The value of his information of course depended on its source, and his agents could only pass on what was officially given out in the towns where they were stationed, and the unofficial rumours that passed from mouth to mouth. Thus it happened that, even five weeks after the outbreak of war, Frank knew next to nothing of the actual course of events, and, if he had believed what was reported, would have been wretched because Paris and Warsaw were in the hands of the Germans, the British navy was annihilated, all the British colonies in revolt, and London at the mercy of the enemy.

One day, happily, Joseph brought in, hidden in the folds of his garments, a number of London newspapers which had come into the hands of his father. From these Frank learnt that though Belgium was occupied by the Germans, their offensive had been checked in all quarters, and their hope of an easy and a speedy triumph was shattered. What most deeply interested him, however, was the news that Lord Kitchener was creating an immense new army, the ranks of which were being rapidly filled by volunteers from every class and section of the people. This did but increase his eagerness to get away from Erzerum. He longed for the day to come when he might hurry back to England and enlist in what promised to be the first national army that Britain had put into the field since the far-gone days when every citizen was a soldier as a matter of course.

Day by day it grew clearer from Joseph's reports that Germany would drag Turkey into the war. Wonckhaus was constantly at the Governor's house; the Governor's aides-de-camp were frequent visitors to Wonckhaus. The 9th Army Corps was being brought up to full strength, and German officers were drilling the recruits. It was even announced that the Governor himself would shortly be replaced by a German officer of high rank. One morning Joseph announced that Wonckhaus had appeared in the uniform of a major in the Turkish army; it had become known that in his own country he had been a captain of Landwehr. The ostensible merchant had been all along, it was clear, an agent of the German Government.

Weeks passed, irksomely, drearily. No letter came from Mr. Forester. Frank was never allowed to leave his house. Night and day a sentry stood on guard. Frank could take exercise only in his yard and on his roof. He did his best to keep himself in condition by means of gymnastic practice, but he was becoming low-spirited and sick of his life. Ideas of attempting escape often came to him, but were always checked by the thought of his stock, worth several thousands of pounds, which he felt he could not leave to be confiscated. To sell it was impossible. In the present situation no one would buy it; if any one were so rash as to purchase, he would probably be making a present of his money and the goods to the Turkish officials.

Frank's fears in this regard were confirmed by the news brought him one day by Joseph. The Goeben and the Breslau had been attacking Russian vessels in the Black Sea. War was certain. A matter that affected Frank more closely was a conversation which Kopri had partially overheard between the new German Governor and Wonckhaus. Frank's name had been mentioned, in what connection Kopri, being ignorant of German, did not know. But he suggested that the authorities were only awaiting a formal declaration of war to seize the Foresters' stock, among other English property. Wonckhaus was well aware of its value, and apart from its usefulness in assisting the Turkish finances, Wonckhaus had a personal grudge to pay off.

This news set Frank in a ferment. Every other consideration was now subordinated in his mind to the question of saving his stock. He was at his wits' end. He consulted with Joseph, but Joseph seemed unable to suggest any likely means. It was only at the end of a long conversation that the Armenian sprang a surprise upon him.

In Erzerum, owing to the constantly recurring troubles, the Armenians have various hiding-places in which they secrete their valuables and occasionally themselves. The whereabouts of these spots is jealously guarded, and it was only when Frank had given up his problem in despair that Joseph divulged a secret locked up in his breast.

"Why on earth didn't you tell me this before?" demanded Frank with some indignation.

Joseph begged for forgiveness on the plea that the secret belonged to his community, and he had his father's permission to reveal it only in the last resort.

"Well, send the servants out of the house on some errand or other, and then show me the place."

The house was an old one, which had played a part in the troubled history of the city. When the servants had been disposed of, Joseph took Frank to one of the lower rooms. The back wall was apparently built against the solid hillside; but a sliding panel, cunningly disguised, gave access to a narrow passage which bent abruptly to the left. Groping his way through this for some distance at Joseph's heels, Frank found himself in a small chamber about eight feet square. He sniffed.

"What is this smell of smoke?" he asked.

"There is a narrow pipe running into the chimney next door," Joseph replied.

"Does Wonckhaus know of it?" asked Frank instantly.

"It is not at all likely. Karamin, who owns this house, probably does not know of it. If he does, he would not tell Wonckhaus. I should not have told you but----"

"Yes, yes; I understand. But this is capital. We can bring here the most valuable part of our stock; it won't do to bring it all, for Wonckhaus would suspect a hiding-place if he found all our things gone. Come, let us do it at once."

Together they worked for an hour or two in transporting the most valuable rugs, including Mirza Aga's, to the secret chamber. When this was done, and the panel replaced, Frank felt exultingly confident that the inevitable search would completely baffle the enemy.

He had not long to wait for confirmation of his faith. October dragged away; on November 2 the streets were filled with excited people, cheering the news that the British and Russian ambassadors had left Constantinople. In anticipation of the outbreak of hostilities troops had been for some days marching eastward and north-eastward towards the Russian frontier and the Caucasus, deluded by their German officers into the belief that Russia had withdrawn the greater part of her forces from Transcaucasia to withstand the German onslaught on Poland, and that they would have an easy task in recovering the ground lost in the war of 1878.

On the same day, a Turkish officer with a file of men came to Frank's house. Leaving the men at the door, he entered.

"I regret, effendim," he said to Frank politely, "that I have orders to arrest you and convey you to the citadel."

"For what reason, and on what charge?" asked Frank.

"Your country and mine are now at war, effendim. As an alien of military age, you cannot remain at large. Besides, there is that matter of blocking the road. The higher authorities at Stamboul have not yet given their decision; but in the meantime the Governor deems it necessary to imprison you. I assure you of my personal regret, and on the Governor's part that your treatment shall be as mild as possible."

Frank did not then know what mildness meant, as interpreted by German military officers. The Turkish lieutenant's politeness and apologetic manner prevented him from feeling any personal resentment at the moment.

While he was gathering a few things together, Wonckhaus came in. The German was so impatient to secure his booty, and possibly to enjoy the spectacle of his victim's humiliation, that he had not waited for Frank's departure. Accompanied by one of his clerks, he hastened to the storeroom, and taking from his pocket a list of the stock, obtained Frank knew not how, began to call over the items.

"You take an inventory for the purpose of safeguarding my property and returning it at the end of the war, I presume," said Frank to the Turk.

"That I know nothing about," was the answer. "The Governor will no doubt do everything in order. Are you ready, effendim?"

"In a minute or two, if you don't mind waiting until Major Wonckhaus has completed his task."

Wonckhaus's voice could be heard from the storeroom.

"The rug of Shiraz, 16 by 12. Where is that? Not here? And the Khorassan rug of Mirza Aga. Not here? But it must be here. It has not been sold. It has not been removed. Pull down that big Ispahan carpet; it may be under that."

A few minutes passed. Wonckhaus was growing furious. He uttered a resounding German curse.

"Come, we must search the house," he cried.

He returned to the room where Frank stood, glared at him savagely, glanced around, and assuring himself that the rugs on the floor were of no great value, proceeded to a systematic search of the premises. He ransacked every room, and went so far as to strip the roof of its turf. But nowhere could he find the Khorassan rug of Mirza Aga, or several other rugs representing some tens of thousands of German marks.

Frank, in spite of his situation, was amused. Wonckhaus, he thought, could hardly show his hand so completely as to demand information about property which was in no way his concern, and his rage and air of bafflement when he returned to the lower room was certainly comical to witness. Frank's amusement would have been less if he could have foreseen what the discrepancy between the actual stock and the list was to cost him.

Plunder was Wonckhaus's object, and, to Frank's surprise--he did not yet know German shamelessness---Wonckhaus now made no secret of it. He went to the office desk, wrenched it open--"He might at least have asked for the key," thought Frank--and examined the stock book. He wheeled round.

"The stock is short," he cried. "What have you done with the goods?"

Frank looked at him with a smile, but said nothing.

"Do you hear?" shouted Wonckhaus, the charm of manner which had won him a certain popularity among the Europeans dropping from him like a loosened garment. "What have you done with the goods?"

Frank turned to the Turkish officer.

"Major Wonckhaus is curious about my business," he said. "I have no information to give."

Wonckhaus blustered. He roared at Joseph, who had been standing silent in the background.

"You fellow, where are the rugs? What have you done with them?"

"I am my master's servant," said Joseph quietly.

"And your father's son!" cried the German. "You will tell me instantly what I want to know, or you will find yourself laid by the heels, and the army will have another contractor."

Wonckhaus had lost his temper, or he would have reflected that a change of contractors at this critical moment was out of the question. Joseph was shrewd enough to perceive the emptiness of his threat, and merely replied that he could say nothing without his master's orders.

At this moment, while Wonckhaus was glaring with baffled rage at Frank and his faithful clerk, a non-commissioned officer came in.

"A message from the Governor, effendim," he said to the lieutenant. "The Englishman is to be kept a prisoner in the upper storey of this house, the lower storey will be occupied by his guards."

To Frank this was very agreeable news. He had felt unhappy at the prospect of being shut up in the common prison, or even in the soldiers' prison at the citadel: Turkish jails are unsavoury places. In his own house he would at least be able to keep clean. Moreover, he would then be able, in a sense, to watch over his carpets. The hiding-place could hardly be discovered without his hearing of it, and there would be a certain satisfaction in knowing that his property was still safe, or, if it were found, in learning definitely what had become of it. He afterwards discovered that the change of plan was due to the British consul, who had learnt of the order for his arrest when he applied for a passport for him, and had obtained this indulgence from the Governor.

Frank noticed that Wonckhaus also appeared to get some satisfaction from the change. The German made no further attempt to obtain the information he desired, and left the house. Frank was taken upstairs and locked in his own bedroom. Joseph, however, was marched off by a couple of the soldiers, and it was some few days before Frank learnt what had become of him.

CHAPTER VII

TEMPTATION

Frank felt that while things might have been worse, they were quite bad enough. The ostensible reason of his imprisonment being that he was of military age, he foresaw the possibility of his remaining a prisoner until the end of the war--perhaps a year, for while he had a great respect for Germany's military power, he did not think it likely that she could withstand the forces of the Triple Entente for more than twelve months.

At first he had no great hardship to endure. His own servants had been dismissed, but he had been given as personal attendant an old Arab named Hussein who combined the natural courtesy of his race with another Eastern characteristic--a keen appetite for bakshish. Frank had been allowed to keep his ready money, and was thus able to purchase many comforts to supplement the prisoner's fare supplied him. Hussein, of course, made a handsome profit out of every transaction in which he was thus employed, and Frank soon saw the necessity of self-restraint, for money would not last for ever, and there was no chance of obtaining more.

Hussein was talkative and intelligent, always polite, and, Frank suspected, sly. It was from him that Frank learnt, after a few days, that Joseph had been released from the common jail and had left the town. The Turks were straining every nerve to collect supplies for their campaign in the Caucasus, and Joseph's father the contractor was too useful a man to be alienated. It was not long before Frank had proof of Hussein's slyness.

"The days are getting colder, effendim," he said one day. "There was snow in the night."

"Very uncomfortable for the army," said Frank.

"True. Our winter is very long, very bitter. It is not so in your country, effendim?"

"Not so bitter, perhaps, but quite as long as we like it."

"Wallahy! This country is not a healthy place for Englishmen in the winter. Hundreds of them have left Turkey, so it is told me. Of a truth Turkey is not a healthy place for them now! A pity you are not gone too, effendim."

"Well, I am certainly not here by my own wish."

"A wish is the father of an action, effendim. You have but to wish, and----"

"What are you driving at?" said Frank as the Arab paused.

"There was a man of Trebizond who being falsely accused and unjustly cast into prison, nevertheless after taking thought confessed with tears that he was guilty of that crime; whereupon the heart of his jailer was softened and his hand was opened to receive the slight gifts that were the tokens of the prisoner's repentance, and within a little that man was free, and able to sin again or to lead a virtuous life as so pleased him."

"A parable, Hussein?" said Frank with a smile.

"For the ears of the wise, effendim. Wallahy! what are a man's goods in comparison with his freedom?"

"Which being interpreted means that you will let me go in exchange for what you call a few slight gifts?"

"Truly such gifts, here a little, there a little, will unlock prison doors and unbar city gates. But there is first one small matter, and that is that you breathe in my ear the nook where those few paltry rugs lie hid. Wallahy! what are a few threads of wool against the open road and the boundless sky?"

"Oho, friend Hussein! I must contrive a double debt to pay, is that it? The pipe sings sweetly when the fowler is snaring a bird, but this particular bird, I assure you, is not to be snared. You will waste your breath, Hussein."

"Allah is great!" said the Arab, as he made the salam and left the room.

A few days passed. Frank noticed that there was a slight deterioration in the quality of his food. Then one morning he had a visit from Wonckhaus.

"Good-morning, Mr. Forester," said the German pleasantly. "What an unfortunate thing this is!"

Frank made no answer. After a pause the German went on:

"We have been rivals in business, and now, through an unfortunate misunderstanding between our Governments, we are enemies. But the enmity is official, not personal, I assure you. We have crossed each other in business, but business men do not quarrel. And there is one circumstance that should make us friends. After all, you and I are Europeans among Orientals; that is a bond between us; and you will not take amiss advice honestly given by one European to another. You may not credit it" (Frank didn't), "but up to the present I have stood between the Turks and you. But for me your life would not have been worth a snap. Now I am about to leave the city for the front. The Turkish army, led by German officers, is about to deal a smashing blow to the barbarous Russians in the Caucasus, and to occupy Batum. Before I leave, it would give me great pleasure to see you in a safer position. It merely needs the exercise of your capital English principle of give-and-take. Why not disclose the whereabouts of your useless stock? In return, I would contrive that you should be sent to Constantinople and ultimately released."

Frank did not speak. His fingers were drumming on the table, his eyes fixed on the German's.

"I merely drop you a friendly hint," Wonckhaus resumed. "Things are looking very serious. The Turks are making a beginning with the Armenians: when the appetite for blood is whetted, they may easily fail to discriminate between Armenians and other enemies. You will not forget that you are in a very remote place. Erzerum is not Constantinople. Take a friend's advice and get back to civilisation. I will act as a go-between. If you will confide in me, I will make your peace with the Turks."