Itwassnowingheavily，whichwasapieceofluckforus。PooroldPeterhadnogreatcoat，sowewentintoaJew’sshopandboughtaready—madeabomination，whichlookedasifitmighthavebeenmeantforadissentingparson。Itwasnogoodsavingmymoneywhenthefuturewassoblack。Thesnowmadethestreetsdeserted，andweturneddownthelonglanewhichledtoRatchikferry，andfounditperfectlyquiet。IdonotthinkwemetasoultillwegottoKuprasso’sshop。
Wewalkedstraightthroughthecafe，whichwasempty，anddownthedarkpassage，tillwewerestoppedbythegardendoor。I
knockedanditswungopen。Therewasthebleakyard，nowpuddledwithsnow，andablazeoflightfromthepavilionattheotherend。
Therewasascrapingoffiddles，too，andthesoundofhumantalk。
Wepaidthenegroatthedoor，andpassedfromthebitterafternoonintoagarishsaloon。
Therewerefortyorfiftypeoplethere，drinkingcoffeeandsiropsandfillingtheairwiththefumesoflatakia。MostofthemwereTurksinEuropeanclothesandthefez，butthereweresomeGermanofficersandwhatlookedlikeGermancivilians—ArmyServiceCorpsclerks，probably，andmechanicsfromtheArsenal。Awomanincheapfinerywastinklingatthepiano，andtherewereseveralshrillfemaleswiththeofficers。PeterandIsatdownmodestlyinthenearestcorner，whereoldKuprassosawusandsentuscoffee。
AgirlwholookedlikeaJewesscameovertousandtalkedFrench，butIshookmyheadandshewentoffagain。
Presentlyagirlcameonthestageanddanced，asillyaffair，allaclashingoftambourinesandwriggling。IhaveseennativewomendothesamethingbetterinaMozambiquekraal。AnothersangaGermansong，asimple，sentimentalthingaboutgoldenhairandrainbows，andtheGermanspresentapplauded。Theplacewassotinsellyandcommonthat，comingtoitfromweeksofroughtravelling，itmademeimpatient。Iforgotthat，whilefortheothersitmightbeavulgarlittledancing—hall，forusitwasasperilousasabrigands’den。
Peterdidnotsharemymood。Hewasquiteinterestedinit，ashewasinterestedineverythingnew。Hehadageniusforlivinginthemoment。
Iremembertherewasadrop—sceneonwhichwasdaubedabluelakewithverygreenhillsinthedistance。Asthetobaccosmokegrewthickerandthefiddleswentonsquealing，thistawdrypicturebegantomesmerizeme。Iseemedtobelookingoutofawindowatalovelysummerlandscapewheretherewerenowarsordanger。I
seemedtofeelthewarmsunandtosmellthefragranceofblossomfromtheislands。AndthenIbecameawarethataqueerscenthadstolenintotheatmosphere。
Therewerebraziersburningatbothendstowarmtheroom，andthethinsmokefromthesesmeltlikeincense。Somebodyhadbeenputtingapowderintheflames，forsuddenlytheplacebecameveryquiet。Thefiddlesstillsounded，butfarawaylikeanecho。Thelightswentdown，allbutacircleonthestage，andintothatcirclesteppedmyenemyoftheskincap。
Hehadthreeotherswithhim。Iheardawhisperbehindme，andthewordswerethosewhichKuprassohadusedthedaybefore。
ThesebedlamiteswerecalledtheCompanionsoftheRosyHours，andKuprassohadpromisedgreatdancing。
Ihopedtogoodnesstheywouldnotseeus，fortheyhadfairlygivenmethehorrors。Peterfeltthesame，andwebothmadeourselvesverysmallinthatdarkcorner。Butthenewcomershadnoeyesforus。
Inatwinklingthepavilionchangedfromacommonsaloon，whichmighthavebeeninChicagoorParis，toaplaceofmystery—
yes，andofbeauty。ItbecametheGarden—HouseofSulimantheRed，whoeverthatsportsmanmayhavebeen。Sandyhadsaidthattheendsoftheearthconvergedthere，andhehadbeenright。Ilostallconsciousnessofmyneighbours—stoutGerman，frock—coatedTurk，frowsyJewess—andsawonlystrangefiguresleapinginacircleoflight，figuresthatcameoutofthedeepestdarknesstomakeabigmagic。
Theleaderflungsomestuffintothebrazier，andagreatfanofbluelightflaredup。Hewasweavingcircles，andhewassingingsomethingshrillandhigh，whilsthiscompanionsmadeachoruswiththeirdeepmonotone。Ican’ttellyouwhatthedancewas。I
hadseentheRussianballetjustbeforethewar，andoneofthemeninitremindedmeofthisman。Butthedancingwastheleastpartofit。Itwasneithersoundnormovementnorscentthatwroughtthespell，butsomethingfarmorepotent。InaninstantIfoundmyselfreftawayfromthepresentwithitsdulldangers，andlookingataworldallyoungandfreshandbeautiful。Thegaudydrop—scenehadvanished。ItwasawindowIwaslookingfrom，andIwasgazingatthefinestlandscapeonearth，litbythepurecleanlightofmorning。
Itseemedtobepartoftheveld，butlikenoveldIhadeverseen。
Itwaswiderandwilderandmoregracious。Indeed，Iwaslookingatmyfirstyouth。Iwasfeelingthekindofimmortallight—
heartednesswhichonlyaboyknowsinthedawningofhisdays。I
hadnolongeranyfearofthesemagic—makers。Theywerekindlywizards，whohadbroughtmeintofairyland。
Thenslowlyfromthesilencetheredistilleddropsofmusic。Theycamelikewaterfallingalongwayintoacup，eachtheessentialqualityofpuresound。We，withourelaborateharmonies，haveforgottenthecharmofsinglenotes。TheAfricannativesknowit，andIrememberalearnedmanoncetellingmethattheGreekshadthesameart。Thosesilverbellsbrokeoutofinfinitespace，soexquisiteandperfectthatnomortalwordscouldhavebeenfittedtothem。Thatwasthemusic，Iexpect，thatthemorningstarsmadewhentheysangtogether。
Slowly，veryslowly，itchanged。Theglowpassedfrombluetopurple，andthentoanangryred。Bitbybitthenotesspuntogethertilltheyhadmadeaharmony—afierce，restlessharmony。AndI
wasconsciousagainoftheskin—claddancersbeckoningoutoftheircircle。
Therewasnomistakeaboutthemeaningnow。Allthedaintinessandyouthhadfled，andpassionwasbeatingtheair—terrible，savagepassion，whichbelongedneithertodaynornight，lifenordeath，buttothehalf—worldbetweenthem。Isuddenlyfeltthedancersasmonstrous，inhuman，devilish。Thethickscentsthatfloatedfromthebrazierseemedtohaveatangofnew—shedblood。
Criesbrokefromthehearers—criesofangerandlustandterror。I
heardawomansob，andPeter，whoisastoughasanymortal，tooktightholdofmyarm。
InowrealizedthattheseCompanionsoftheRosyHoursweretheonlythingintheworldtofear。RastaandStummseemedfeeblesimpletonsbycontrast。ThewindowIhadbeenlookingoutofwaschangedtoaprisonwall—Icouldseethemortarbetweenthemassiveblocks。Inasecondthesedevilswouldbesmellingouttheirenemieslikesomefoulwitch—doctors。Ifelttheburningeyesoftheirleaderlookingformeinthegloom。Peterwasprayingaudiblybesideme，andIcouldhavechokedhim。Hisinfernalchatterwouldrevealus，foritseemedtomethattherewasnooneintheplaceexceptusandthemagic—workers。
Thensuddenlythespellwasbroken。Thedoorwasflungopenandagreatgustoficywindswirledthroughthehall，drivingcloudsofashesfromthebraziers。Iheardloudvoiceswithout，andahubbubbeganinside。Foramomentitwasquitedark，andthensomeonelitoneoftheflarelampsbythestage。Itrevealednothingbutthecommonsqualorofalowsaloon—whitefaces，sleepyeyes，andfrowsyheads。Thedrop—piecewasthereinallitstawdriness。
TheCompanionsoftheRosyHourshadgone。Butatthedoorstoodmeninuniform，IheardaGermanalongwayoffmurmur，’Enver’sbodyguards，’andIheardhimdistinctly;for，thoughI
couldnotseeclearly，myhearingwasdesperatelyacute。Thatisoftenthewaywhenyousuddenlycomeoutofaswoon。
Theplaceemptiedlikemagic。TurkandGermantumbledovereachother，whileKuprassowailedandwept。Nooneseemedtostopthem，andthenIsawthereason。ThoseGuardshadcomeforus。ThismustbeStummatlast。Theauthoritieshadtrackedusdown，anditwasallupwithPeterandme。
Asuddenrevulsionleavesamanwithalowvitality。Ididn’tseemtocaregreatly。Weweredone，andtherewasanendofit。ItwasKismet，theactofGod，andtherewasnothingforitbuttosubmit。Ihadn’taflickerofathoughtofescapeorresistance。Thegamewasutterlyandabsolutelyover。
AmanwhoseemedtobeasergeantpointedtousandsaidsomethingtoKuprasso，whonodded。Wegotheavilytoourfeetandstumbledtowardsthem。Withoneoneachsideofuswecrossedtheyard，walkedthroughthedarkpassageandtheemptyshop，andoutintothesnowystreet。Therewasaclosedcarriagewaitingwhichtheymotionedustogetinto。ItlookedexactlyliketheBlackMaria。
Bothofussatstill，liketruantschoolboys，withourhandsonourknees。Ididn’tknowwhereIwasgoingandIdidn’tcare。Weseemedtoberumblingupthehill，andthenIcaughttheglareoflightedstreets。
’Thisistheendofit，Peter，’Isaid。
’_Ja，Cornelis，’hereplied，andthatwasallourtalk。
Byandby—hourslateritseemed—westopped。Someoneopenedthedoorandwegotout，tofindourselvesinacourtyardwithahugedarkbuildingaround。Theprison，Iguessed，andI
wonderediftheywouldgiveusblankets，foritwasperishingcold。
Weenteredadoor，andfoundourselvesinabigstonehall。Itwasquitewarm，whichmadememorehopefulaboutourcells。A
maninsomekindofuniformpointedtothestaircase，upwhichweploddedwearily。Mymindwastooblanktotakeclearimpressions，orinanywaytoforecastthefuture。Anotherwardermetusandtookusdownapassagetillwehaltedatadoor。Hestoodasideandmotionedustoenter。
Iguessedthatthiswasthegovernor’sroom，andweshouldbeputthroughourfirstexamination。Myheadwastoostupidtothink，andImadeupmymindtokeepperfectlymum。Yes，eveniftheytriedthumbscrews。Ihadnokindofstory，butIresolvednottogiveanythingaway。AsIturnedthehandleIwonderedidlywhatkindofsallowTurkorbulging—neckedGermanweshouldfindinside。
Itwasapleasantroom，withapolishedwoodfloorandabigfireburningonthehearth。Besidethefireamanlayonacouch，withalittletabledrawnupbesidehim。OnthattablewasasmallglassofmilkandanumberofPatiencecardsspreadinrows。
Istaredblanklyatthespectacle，tillIsawasecondfigure。Itwasthemanintheskin—cap，theleaderofthedancingmaniacs。BothPeterandIbackedsharplyatthesightandthenstoodstockstill。
Forthedancercrossedtheroomintwostridesandgrippedbothofmyhands。
’Dick，oldman，’hecried，’I’mmostawfullygladtoseeyouagain！’
CHAPTERTWELVE
FourMissionariesSeeLightintheirMissionAspasmofincredulity，avastrelief，andthatsharpjoywhichcomesofreactionchasedeachotheracrossmymind。Ihadcomesuddenlyoutofveryblackwatersintoanunbelievablecalm。I
droppedintothenearestchairandtriedtograpplewithsomethingfarbeyondwords。
’Sandy，’Isaid，assoonasIgotmybreath，’you’reanincarnatedevil。You’vegivenPeterandmethefrightofourlives。’
’Itwastheonlyway，Dick。IfIhadn’tcomemewinglikeatom—catatyourheelsyesterday，Rastawouldhavehadyoulongbeforeyougottoyourhotel。Youtwohavegivenmeaprettyanxioustime，andittooksomedoingtogetyousafehere。However，thatisallovernow。Makeyourselvesathome，mychildren。’
’Over！’Icriedincredulously，formywitswerestillwool—
gathering。’Whatplaceisthis？’
’Youmaycallitmyhumblehome’—itwasBlenkiron’ssleekvoicethatspoke。’We’vebeenpreparingforyou，Major，butitwasonlyyesterdayIheardofyourfriend。’
IintroducedPeter。
’MrPienaar，’saidBlenkiron，’pleasedtomeetyou。Well，asIwasobserving，you’resafeenoughhere，butyou’vecutitmightyfine。
Officially，aDutchmancalledBrandtwastobearrestedthisafternoonandhandedovertotheGermanauthorities。WhenGermanybeginstotroubleaboutthatDutchmanshewillfinddifficultyingettingthebody;butsucharethelanguidwaysofanOrientaldespotism。MeantimetheDutchmanwillbenomore。Hewillhaveceaseduponthemidnightwithoutpain，asyourpoetsings。’
’ButIdon’tunderstand，’Istammered。’Whoarrestedus？’
’Mymen，’saidSandy。’Wehaveabitofagrafthere，anditwasn’tdifficulttomanageit。OldMoellendorffwillbenosingafterthebusinesstomorrow，buthewillfindthemysterytoodeepforhim。ThatistheadvantageofaGovernmentrunbyapackofadventurers。But，byJove，Dick，wehadn’tanytimetospare。ifRastahadgotyou，ortheGermanshadhadthejobofliftingyou，yourgoosewouldhavebeenjollywellcooked。Ihadsomeunquiethoursthismorning。’
Thethingwastoodeepforme。IlookedatBlenkiron，shufflinghisPatiencecardswithhisoldsleepysmile，andSandy，dressedlikesomebanditinmelodrama，hisleanfaceasbrownasanut，hisbarearmsalltattooedwithcrimsonrings，andthefoxpeltdrawntightoverbrowandears。Itwasstillanightmareworld，butthedreamwasgettingpleasanter。Petersaidnotaword，butIcouldseehiseyesheavywithhisownthoughts。
Blenkironhovehimselffromthesofaandwaddledtoacupboard。
’Youboysmustbehungry，’hesaid。’Myduo—denumhasbeengivingmehellasusual，andIdon’teatnomorethanasquirrel。ButIlaidinsomestores，forIguessedyouwouldwanttostokeupsomeafteryourtravels。’
HebroughtoutacoupleofStrassburgpies，acheese，acoldchicken，aloaf，andthreebottlesofchampagne。
’Fizz，’saidSandyrapturously。’AndadryHeidsiecktoo！We’reinluck，Dick，oldman。’
Ineverateamorewelcomemeal，forwehadstarvedinthatdirtyhotel。ButIhadstilltheoldfeelingofthehunted，andbeforeIbeganIaskedaboutthedoor。
’That’sallright，’saidSandy。’Myfellowsareonthestairandatthegate。Ifthe_Metrebareinpossession，youmaybetthatotherpeoplewillkeepoff。Yourpastisblottedout，cleanvanishedaway，andyoubegintomorrowmorningwithanewsheet。Blenkiron’sthemanyou’vegottothankforthat。Hewasprettycertainyou’dgethere，buthewasalsocertainthatyou’darriveinahurrywithagoodmanyinquirersbehindyou。Sohearrangedthatyoushouldleakawayandstartfresh。’
’YournameisRichardHanau，’Blenkironsaid，’borninCleveland，Ohio，ofGermanparentageonbothsides。Oneofourbrightestmining—
engineers，andtheappleofGuggenheim’seye。YouarrivedthisafternoonfromConstanza，andImetyouatthepacket。
Theclothesforthepartareinyourbedroomnextdoor。ButIguessallthatcanwait，forI’manxioustogettobusiness。We’renothereonajoy—ride，Major，soIreckonwe’llleaveoutthedime—noveladventures。I’mjustdyingtohearthem，butthey’llkeep。Iwanttoknowhowourmutualinquirieshaveprospered。’
HegavePeterandmecigars，andwesatourselvesinarmchairsinfrontoftheblaze。Sandysquattedcross—leggedonthehearthrugandlitafouloldbriarpipe，whichheextricatedfromsomepouchamonghisskins。Andsobeganthatconversationwhichhadneverbeenoutofmythoughtsforfourhecticweeks。
’IfIpresumetobegin，’saidBlenkiron，’it’sbecauseIreckonmystoryistheshortest。Ihavetoconfesstoyou，gentlemen，thatI
havefailed。’
Hedrewdownthecornersofhismouthtillhelookedacrossbetweenamusic—hallcomedianandasickchild。
’Ifyouwerelookingforsomethingintherootofthehedge，youwouldn’twanttoscourtheroadinahigh—speedautomobile。Andstilllesswouldyouwanttogetabird’s—eyeviewinanaeroplane。
Thatparableaboutfitsmycase。IhavebeeninthecloudsandI’vebeenscorchingonthepikes，butwhatIwaswantingwasintheditchallthetime，andInaturallymissedit……Ihadthewrongstunt，Major。Iwastoohighupandrefined。I’vebeenprocessingthroughEuropelikeBarnum’sCircus，andlivingwithgeneralsandtransparencies。NotthatIhaven’tpickedupalotofnoos，andgotsomeveryinterestingsidelightsonhighpolitics。ButthethingI
wasafterwasn’ttobefoundonmybeat，forthosethatknewitweren’tgoingtotell。Inthatkindofsocietytheydon’tgetdrunkandblabaftertheirtenthcocktail。SoIguessI’venocontributiontomaketoquietingSirWalterBullivant’smind，exceptthathe’sdeadright。Yes，Sir，hehashitthespotandrungthebell。Thereisamightymiracle—workingpropositionbeingfloatedintheseparts，butthepromotersarekeepingittothemselves。Theyaren’ttakinginmorethantheycanhelpontheground—floor。’
Blenkironstoppedtolightafreshcigar。HewasleanerthanwhenheleftLondonandtherewerepouchesbelowhiseyes。I
fancyhisjourneyhadnotbeenasfur—linedashemadeout。
’I’vefoundoutonething，andthatis，thatthelastdreamGermanywillpartwithisthecontroloftheNearEast。Thatiswhatyourstatesmendon’tfigureenoughon。She’llgiveupBelgiumandAlsace—LorraineandPoland，butbyGod！she’llnevergiveuptheroadtoMesopotamiatillyouhaveherbythethroatandmakeherdropit。SirWalterisaprettybright—eyedcitizen，andheseesitrightenough。Iftheworsthappens，KaiserwillflingoverboardalotofballastinEurope，anditwilllooklikeabigvictoryfortheAllies，buthewon’tbebeatenifhehastheroadtotheEastsafe。
Germany’slikeascorpion:hersting’sinhertail，andthattailstretcheswaydownintoAsia。
’Igotthatclear，andIalsomadeoutthatitwasn’tgoingtobedeadeasyforhertokeepthattailhealthy。Turkey’sabitofananxiety，asyou’llsoondiscover。ButGermanythinksshecanmanageit，andIwon’tsayshecan’t。Itdependsonthehandsheholds，andshereckonsitagoodone。Itriedtofindout，buttheygavemenothingbuteyewash。Ihadtopretendtobesatisfied，forthepositionofJohnS。wasn’tsostrongastoallowhimtotakeliberties。IfIaskedoneofthehighbrowshelookedwiseandspokeofthemightofGermanarmsandGermanorganizationandGermanstaff—work。Iusedtonodmyheadandgetenthusiasticaboutthesestunts，butitwasallsoftsoap。Shehasatrickinhand—thatmuchIknow，butI’mdarnedifIcanputanametoit。IpraytoGodyouboyshavebeencleverer。’
Histonewasquitemelancholy，andIwasmeanenoughtofeelratherglad。Hehadbeentheprofessionalwiththebestchance。Itwouldbeagoodjokeiftheamateursucceededwheretheexpertfailed。
IlookedatSandy。Hefilledhispipeagain，andpushedbackhisskincapfromhisbrows。Whatwithhislongdishevelledhair，hishigh—bonedface，andstainedeyebrowshehadtheappearanceofsomemadmullah。
’IwentstraighttoSmyrna，’hesaid。’Itwasn’tdifficult，foryouseeIhadlaiddownagoodmanylinesinformertravels。IreachedthetownasaGreekmoney—lenderfromtheFayum，butIhadfriendsthereIcouldcounton，andthesameeveningIwasaTurkishgipsy，amemberofthemostfamousfraternityinWesternAsia。Ihadlongbeenamember，andI’mblood—brotherofthechiefboss，soIsteppedintothepartreadymade。ButIfoundoutthattheCompanyoftheRosyHourswasnotwhatIhadknownitin1910。ThenithadbeenallfortheYoungTurksandreform;nowithankeredaftertheoldregimeandwasthelasthopeoftheOrthodox。
IthadnouseforEnverandhisfriends，anditdidnotregardwithpleasurethe_beaux_yeuxoftheTeuton。ItstoodforIslamandtheoldways，andmightbedescribedasaConservative—
Nationalistcaucus。Butitwasuncommonpowerfulintheprovinces，andEnverandTalaatdaren’tmeddlewithit。Thedangerousthingaboutitwasthatitsaidnothingandapparentlydidnothing。Itjustbideditstimeandtooknotes。
’Youcanimaginethatthiswastheverykindofcrowdformypurpose。Iknewofolditslittleways，forwithallitsorthodoxyitdabbledagooddealinmagic，andowedhalfitspowertoitsatmosphereoftheuncanny。TheCompanionscoulddancetheheartoutoftheordinaryTurk。Yousawabitofoneofourdancesthisafternoon，Dick—prettygood，wasn’tit？Theycouldgoanywhere，andnoquestionsasked。Theyknewwhattheordinarymanwasthinking，fortheywerethebestintelligencedepartmentintheOttomanEmpire—farbetterthanEnver’s_Khafiyeh。Andtheywerepopular，too，fortheyhadneverbowedthekneetothe_Nemseh—
theGermanswhoaresqueezingoutthelife—bloodoftheOsmanlifortheirownends。ItwouldhavebeenasmuchasthelifeoftheCommitteeoritsGermanmasterswasworthtolayahandonus，forweclungtogetherlikeleechesandwewerenotinthehabitofstickingattrifles。
’Well，youmayimagineitwasn’tdifficultformetomovewhereIwanted。Mydressandthepass—wordfrankedmeanywhere。I
travelledfromSmyrnabythenewrailwaytoPandermaontheMarmora，andgottherejustbeforeChristmas。ThatwasafterAnzacandSuvlahadbeenevacuated，butIcouldhearthegunsgoinghardatCapeHelles。FromPandermaIstartedtocrosstoThraceinacoastingsteamer。Andthereanuncommonfunnythinghappened—Igottorpedoed。
’ItmusthavebeenaboutthelasteffortofaBritishsubmarineinthosewaters。Butshegotusallright。Shegaveustenminutestotaketotheboats，andthensenttheblightedoldpacketandafinecargoof6—inchshellstothebottom。Thereweren’tmanypassengers，soitwaseasyenoughtogetashoreintheship’sboats。Thesubmarinesatonthesurfacewatchingus，aswewailedandhowledinthetrueOrientalway，andIsawthecaptainquitecloseintheconning—tower。Whodoyouthinkitwas？TommyElliot，wholivesontheothersideofthehillfrommeathome。
’IgaveTommythesurpriseofhislife。Aswebumpedpasthim，Istartedthe\"FlowersoftheForest\"—theoldversion—ontheantiquestringedinstrumentIcarried，andIsangthewordsveryplain。Tommy’seyesbulgedoutofhishead，andheshoutedatmeinEnglishtoknowwhothedevilIwas。IrepliedinthebroadestScots，whichnomaninthesubmarineorinourboatcouldhaveunderstoodawordof。\"MaisterTammy，\"Icried，\"whatforwadyeskailadacenttinklerladintilacauldsea？I’llgieyeyourkailthroughthereekforthisploythenexttimeIforgaitherwi’yeonthetapo’Caerdon。\"
’Tommyspottedmeinasecond。Helaughedtillhecried，andaswemovedoffshoutedtomeinthesamelanguageto\"pitastootherttaeasteybrae\"。IhopetoHeavenhehadthesensenottotellmyfather，ortheoldmanwillhavehadafit。Henevermuchapprovedofmywanderings，andthoughtIwassafelyanchoredinthebattalion。
’Well，tomakealongstoryshort，IgottoConstantinople，andprettysoonfoundtouchwithBlenkiron。Therestyouknow。
Andnowforbusiness。Ihavebeenfairlylucky—butnomore，forI
haven’tgottothebottomofthethingnoranythinglikeit。ButI’vesolvedthefirstofHarryBullivant’sriddles。Iknowthemeaningof_Kasredin。
’SirWalterwasright，asBlenkironhastoldus。There’sagreatstirringinIslam，somethingmovingonthefaceofthewaters。Theymakenosecretofit。Thosereligiousrevivalscomeincycles，andonewasdueaboutnow。Andtheyarequiteclearaboutthedetails。
AseerhasarisenofthebloodoftheProphet，whowillrestoretheKhalifatetoitsoldgloriesandIslamtoitsoldpurity。HissayingsareeverywhereintheMoslemworld。Alltheorthodoxbelievershavethembyheart。Thatiswhytheyareenduringgrindingpovertyandpreposteroustaxation，andthatiswhytheiryoungmenarerollinguptothearmiesanddyingwithoutcomplaintinGallipoliandTranscaucasia。Theybelievetheyareontheeveofagreatdeliverance。
’NowthefirstthingIfoundoutwasthattheYoungTurkshadnothingtodowiththis。Theyareunpopularandunorthodox，andnotrueTurks。ButGermanyhas。How，Idon’tknow，butIcouldseequiteplainlythatinsomesubtlewayGermanywasregardedasacollaboratorinthemovement。Itisthatbeliefthatiskeepingthepresentregimegoing。TheordinaryTurkloathestheCommittee，buthehassomequeerpervertedexpectationfromGermany。ItisnotacaseofEnverandtherestcarryingontheirshoulderstheunpopularTeuton;itisacaseoftheTeutoncarryingtheunpopularCommittee。AndGermany’sgraftisjustthisandnothingmore—
thatshehassomehandinthecomingofthenewdeliverer。
’Theytalkaboutthethingquiteopenly。Itiscalledthe_Kaaba—i—hurriyeh，thePalladiumofLiberty。TheprophethimselfisknownasZimrud—\"theEmerald\"—andhisfourministersarecalledalsoafterjewels—Sapphire，Ruby，Pearl，andTopaz。YouwillheartheirnamesasofteninthetalkofthetownsandvillagesasyouwillhearthenamesofgeneralsinEngland。ButnooneknewwhereZimrudwasorwhenhewouldrevealhimself，thougheveryweekcamehismessagestothefaithful。AllthatIcouldlearnwasthatheandhisfollowerswerecomingfromtheWest。
’Youwillsay，whatabout_Kasredin？Thatpuzzledmedreadfully，fornooneusedthephrase。TheHomeoftheSpirit！Itisanobviouscliche，justasinEnglandsomenewsectmightcallitselftheChurchofChrist。Onlynooneseemedtouseit。
’ButbyandbyIdiscoveredthattherewasaninnerandanoutercircleinthismystery。Everycreedhasanesotericsidewhichiskeptfromthecommonherd。IstruckthissideinConstantinople。NowthereisaveryfamousTurkish_shakacalled_Kasredin，oneofthoseoldhalf—comicmiracleplayswithanallegoricalmeaningwhichtheycall_orta_oyun，andwhichtakeaweektoread。Thattaletellsofthecomingofaprophet，andIfoundthattheselectofthefaithspokeofthenewrevelationintermsofit。ThecuriousthingisthatinthattaletheprophetisaidedbyoneofthefewwomenwhoplaymuchpartinthehagiologyofIslam。Thatisthepointofthetale，anditispartlyajest，butmainlyareligiousmystery。Theprophet，too，isnotcalledEmerald。’
’Iknow，’Isaid;’heiscalledGreenmantle。’
Sandyscrambledtohisfeet，lettinghispipedropinthefireplace。
’Nowhowonearthdidyoufindoutthat？’hecried。
ThenItoldthemofStummandGaudianandthewhisperedwordsIhadnotbeenmeanttohear。Blenkironwasgivingmethebenefitofasteadystare，unusualfromonewhoseemedalwaystohavehiseyesabstracted，andSandyhadtakentorangingupanddowntheroom。
’Germany’sintheheartoftheplan。ThatiswhatIalwaysthought。Ifwe’retofindthe_Kaaba—i—hurriyehitisnogoodfossickingamongtheCommitteeorintheTurkishprovinces。Thesecret’sinGermany。Dick，youshouldnothavecrossedtheDanube。’
’That’swhatIhalffeared，’Isaid。’Butontheotherhanditisobviousthatthethingmustcomeeast，andsoonerratherthanlater。
Itakeittheycan’taffordtodelaytoolongbeforetheydeliverthegoods。Ifwecanstickitoutherewemusthitthetrail……I’vegotanotherbitofevidence。IhavesolvedHarryBullivant’sthirdpuzzle。’
Sandy’seyeswereverybrightandIhadanaudienceonwires。
’Didyousaythatinthetaleof_Kasredinawomanistheallyoftheprophet？’
’Yes，’saidSandy;’whatofthat？’
’OnlythatthesamethingistrueofGreenmantle。Icangiveyouhername。’
IfetchedapieceofpaperandapencilfromBlenkiron’sdeskandhandedittoSandy。
’WritedownHarryBullivant’sthirdword。’
Hepromptlywrotedown’_v。_I。’
ThenItoldthemoftheothernameStummandGaudianhadspoken。ItoldofmydiscoveryasIlayinthewoodman’scottage。
’The\"I\"isnottheletterofthealphabet，butthenumeral。ThenameisVonEinem—HildavonEinem。’
’GoodoldHarry，’saidSandysoftly。’Hewasadashedcleverchap。HildavonEinem？Whoandwhereisshe？forifwefindherwehavedonethetrick。’
ThenBlenkironspoke。’IreckonIcanputyouwiseonthat，gentlemen，’hesaid。’Isawhernolaterthanyesterday。Sheisalovelylady。Shehappensalsotobetheownerofthishouse。’
BothSandyandIbegantolaugh。ItwastoocomictohavestumbledacrossEuropeandlightedontheveryheadquartersofthepuzzlewehadsetouttounriddle。
ButBlenkirondidnotlaugh。AtthementionofHildavonEinemhehadsuddenlybecomeverysolemn，andthesightofhisfacepulledmeupshort。