Adventure, December 1914 — page 194: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

192 Bagtchi Palace, one of the follies of a dead and gone Sultan, a fairyland of riotous Oriental architecture, set in the midst of a verdant park far up the European shores of the Bosporus toward the Black Sea en- trance, isolated, seldom visited except when the Sultan or some member of his family makes it a temporary Summer residence. “Well, Blair, you are to be the tenant of the Hilmi Bagtchi Palace. It’s no small honor. I never heard of any other dog of an unbeliever being put up there.” “TI must be very popular in Constanti- nople, Kemil,”’ I said. ‘You are,” he agreed. ‘‘With his Majes- ty the Sultan, his Highness my uncle, his Excellency Nazim Pasha, the Minister of War, and the necessary officers and agents who participated in your capture. I assure you, Blair, there is not another soul who has the slightest idea that you are in Con- stantinople.”’ “Tt is a good plan and a daring one,” I answered suavely. “Quite worthy of you, Countess,’ I added for her benefit. She regarded me from under lazy, half- closed lids. ° *“Do you remember the last conversation we had in Sofia?”’ she inquired softly. “Ves,” Tadmitted. ‘But after all, it’s as Kemil says, ‘today to thee, tomorrow tome.’”’ ““Ah,”’ she objected, “‘but tomorrow never comes.”’ CHAPTER XVII TWO SWIM THE BOSPORUS SHALL pass over the first two months of my experience as a state prisoner. One day was pretty much like its predeces- sor. So far as comfort was concerned, Kemil Bey lived up to his promise. Anything I wanted was mine for the asking. Kemil himself, who was especially entrusted with the guardianship of my person, came fre- quently to fence with me or gossip about the concerns of the world outside. The one restriction imposed upon me was that I might not send any message outside my prison. The guards, who numbered a small regiment, were all picked men, and had strict orders not to communicate with me except by necessary monosyllables. It sounds melodramatic, but Kemil had the right idea. I was supposed to have died, and he and his ingenious friends did every- Adventure thing possible to prove that I had. When Savoff made his demand for my release the Turks replied with a flat assertion that they knew nothing about me. Pressed still further, they produced the officer who had commanded the detachment that captured me, and he swore to having seen me buried by his troopers in a village where I had died of wounds. Of course the American Ambassador ransacked the cholera-stockade to begin with, and Kemil clinched his proofs by escorting a delega- tion of diplomats through all the prisons. Even the hospitals were searched, Kemil told me with a chuckle. One thing that puzzled me at first was . that in the face of what she knew to be Turkish lies, Masoya failed to produce the message Stoyan had carried from the chol- era-stockade. Afterward I was to learn of the girl’s shrewd strategy which had in- stantly detected the foolishness of acquaint- ing the enemy that she had positive evi- dence of my presence within their lines. It gave her a foundation to work on when she became convinced that diplomatic processes would not be successful. Strangely enough, too, the Turks never suspected that the Bulgarian protests were started by a message from me. In the meantime matters went from bad to worse for my friends. Adrianople was proving an extraordinarily hard nut to crack; and the cholera, which had devas- tated the Turkish troops, was communi- cated to the Bulgars. But notwithstanding this the army came up to Tchataldja, eager to fight, straining at the leash. Instead, its spirit was frittered away in a succession of irresolute feints and bombard- ments. Of course Savoff bluffed, but the Turks raised him every time. They knew they held his trump card. They were willing to make peace, yes; but on terms wholly im- possible to accept. Although Macedonia was lost, and Adrianople was the only place in Thrace that flew the Crescent, in Albania Janina and Scutari still held out; and this provided excuse for Turkey not to yield. The opposing armies were dead-locked. Day after day Kemil Bey would come in and laugh and say that it would soon be over—the Bulgars would get tired of wait- ing in the mud and cold out there beyond Tchataldja and pack up and go home. “Ah, but wait until Scutari and Janina MICLOOOK C© in