The Eye of Zeitoon. Talbot Mundy

Why a bullet that drilled that nipple so neatly had not pierced the heart was simply mystery.

      "Kagig, by jove! Kagig with a beard! Nobody would know you but for that scar."

      "But now you know me surely? Tell these Eenglis sportman, then, that I am good man—good guide! Tell them they come with me to Zeitoon!"

      The consul's face darkened swiftly, clouded by some notion that he seemed to try to dismiss, but that refused to leave him.

      "How much would you ask for your services?" he demanded.

      "Whatever the effendim please."

      "Have you a horse?"

      He nodded.

      "You and your horse, then, two piasters a day, and you feed yourself and the beast."

      The man agreed, very bright-eyed. Often it takes a day or two to come to terms with natives of that country, yet the terms the consul offered him were those for a man of very ordinary attainments.

      "Come back in an hour," said the consul.

      Without a word of answer Kagig vaulted back across the rail and disappeared around the corner of the house, walking without hurry but not looking back.

      "Kagig, by jove! It would take too long now to tell that story of the letter to Adrianople. I've no proof, but a private notion that Kagig is descended from the old Armenian kings. In a certain sort of tight place there's not a better man in Asia. Now, Lord Montdidier, if you're in earnest about searching for that castle of your Crusader ancestors, you're in luck!"

      "You know it's what I came here for," said Monty. "These friends of mine are curious, and I'm determined. Now that Fred's well—"

      "I'm puzzled," said the consul, leaning back and looking at us all with half-closed eyes. "Why should Kagig choose just this time to guide a hunting party? If any man knows trouble's brewing, I suspect be surely does. Anything can happen in the interior. I recall, for instance, a couple of Danes, who went with a guide not long ago, and simply disappeared. There are outlaws everywhere, and it's more than a theory that the public officials are in league with them."

      "What a joke if we find the old family castle is a nest of robbers," smiled Monty.

      "Still!" corrected Fred.

      I was watching the consul's eyes. He was troubled, but the prospect of massacre did not account for all of his expression. There was debate, inspiration against conviction, being fought out under cover of forced calm. Inspiration won the day.

      "I was wondering," he said, and lit a fresh cigar while we waited for him to go on.

      "I vouch for my friends," said Monty.

      "It wasn't that. I've no right to make the proposal—no official right whatever—I'm speaking strictly unofficially—in fact, it's not a proposal at all—merely a notion."

      He paused to give himself a last chance, but indiscretion was too strong.

      "I was wondering how far you four men would go to save twenty or thirty thousand lives."

      "You've no call to wonder about that," said Will.

      "Suppose you tell us what you've got in mind," suggested Monty, putting his long legs on a chair and producing a cigarette.

      The consul knocked out his pipe and sat forward, beginning to talk a little faster, as a man who throws discretion to the winds.

      "I've no legal right to interfere. None at all. In case of a massacre of Armenians—men, women, little children—I could do nothing. Make a fuss, of course. Throw open the consulate to refugees. Threaten a lot of things that I know perfectly well my government won't do. The Turks will be polite to my face and laugh behind my back, knowing I'm helpless. But if you four men—"

      "Yes—go on—what?"

      "Spill it!" urged Will.

      "—should be up-country, and I knew it for a fact, but did not know your precise whereabouts, I'd have a grown excuse for raising most particular old Harry! You get my meaning?"

      "Sure!" said Will. "Monty's an earl. Fred's related to half the peerages in Burke. Me and him"—I was balancing my chair on one leg and he pushed me over backward by way of identification—"just pose as distinguished members of society for the occasion. I get you."

      "It might even be possible, Mr. Yerkes, to get the United States

       Congress to take action on your account."

      "Don't you believe it!" laughed Will. "The members for the Parish Pump, and the senators from Ireland would howl about the Monroe Doctrine and Washington's advice at the merest hint of a Yankee in trouble in foreign parts."

      "What about the United States papers?"

      "They'd think it was an English scheme to entangle the United States, and they'd be afraid to support action for fear of the Irish. No, England's your only chance!"

      "Well," said the consul, "I've told you the whole idea. If I should happen to know of four important individuals somewhere up-country, and massacres should break out after you had started, I could supply our ambassador with something good to work on. The Turkish government might have to stop the massacre in the district in which you should happen to be. That would save lives."

      "But could they stop it, once started?" I asked.

      "They could try. That 'ud be more than they ever did yet."

      "You mean," said Monty, "that you'd like us to engage Kagig and make the trip, and to remain out in case of—ah—vukuart until we're rescued?"

      "Can't say I like it, but that's what I mean. And as for rescue, the longer the process takes the better, I imagine!"

      "Hide, and have them hunt for us, eh?"

      "Would it help," I suggested, "if we were to be taken prisoner by outlaws and held for ransom?"

      "It might," said the consul darkly. "I'd take to the hills myself and send back a wail for help, only my plain duty is here at the mission. What I have suggested to you is mad quixotism at the best, and at the worst—well, do you recall what happened to poor Vyner, who was held for ransom by Greek brigands? They sent a rescue party instead of money, and—"

      "Charles Vyner was a friend of mine," said Monty quietly.

      Fred began to look extremely cheerful and Will nudged me and nodded.

      "Remember," said the consul, "in the present state of European politics there's no knowing what can or can't be done, but if you four men are absent in the hills I believe I can give the Turkish government so much to think about that there'll be no massacres in that one district."

      "Whistle up Kagig!" Monty answered, and that was the end of the argument as far as yea or nay had anything to do with it. Prospect of danger was the last thing likely to divide the party.

      "How about permits to travel?" asked Will. "The United States consul told me none is to be had at present."

      The consul rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.

      "It may cost a little more, that's all," he said. "You might go without, but you'd better submit to extortion."

      He called the kavass, the uniformed consular attendant, and sent him in search of Kagig. Within two minutes the Eye of Zeitoon was grinning at us through a small square window in the wall at one end of the veranda. Then he came round and once more vaulted the veranda rail, for he seemed to hold ordinary means of entry in contempt. His eye looked very possessive for that of one seeking employment as a guide, but he stood at respectful attention until spoken to.

      "These gentlemen have decided to employ you," the consul announced.

      "Mashallah!" (God be praised!) For a Christian he used unusual expletives.

      "They want to find a castle in the mountains, to hunt bear and boar, and to see