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Updated: May 10, 2025
It seemed to be about three miles out from the city, at the end of a steep lane on the inland side of the hill coming from the Bosporus. I fancied somebody of distinction lived there, for a little farther on we met a big empty motor-car snorting its way up, and I had a notion that the car belonged to the walled villa. Next day Blenkiron was in grievous trouble with his dyspepsia.
'Well, wherever it is, we're going with you. You haven't heard the end of our yarn. Blenkiron and I have been moving in the best circles as skilled American engineers who are going to play Old Harry with the British on the Tigris. I'm a pal of Enver's now, and he has offered me his protection.
Likewise you have offended me, and I do not forgive. By God, he cried, his voice growing shrill with passion, 'by the time I have done with you your mothers in their graves will weep that they ever bore you! It was Blenkiron who spoke. His voice was as level as the chairman's of a bogus company, and it fell on that turbid atmosphere like acid on grease.
He transhipped from a coasting steamer in the West Indies and we've temporarily lost track of him, but he's left his hunting-ground. What do you reckon that means? 'It means, Blenkiron continued solemnly, 'that Ivery thinks the game's nearly over. The play's working up for the big climax ... And that climax is going to be damnation for the Allies, unless we get a move on. 'Right, I said.
The next night I got another from Blenkiron on a greater than Enver. He had been out alone and had come back pretty late, with his face grey and drawn with pain. The food we ate not at all bad of its kind and the cold east wind played havoc with his dyspepsia. I can see him yet, boiling milk on a spirit-lamp, while Peter worked at a Primus stove to get him a hot-water bottle.
The searchers have been here, but they were sent away empty.... Sleep, my lord, for there is wild work before us. I did not sleep much, for I was strung too high with expectation, and I envied Blenkiron his now eupeptic slumbers. But for an hour or so I dropped off, and my old nightmare came back.
I looked at Blenkiron, shuffling his Patience cards with his old sleepy smile, and Sandy, dressed like some bandit in melodrama, his lean face as brown as a nut, his bare arms all tattooed with crimson rings, and the fox pelt drawn tight over brow and ears. It was still a nightmare world, but the dream was getting pleasanter.
I got out the big map which I had taken from Blenkiron, and made out the general lie of the land. I saw the horseshoe of Deve Boyun to the east which the Russian guns were battering.
I stand on Swiss soil, and I demand that I be surrendered to the Swiss authorities. Ivery spoke with dry lips and the sweat was on his brow. 'Oh, no, no, said Blenkiron soothingly. 'The Swiss are a nice people, and I would hate to add to the worries of a poor little neutral state ... All along both sides have been outside the law in this game, and that's going to continue.
She went there to escape from him, but mainly, I think, to have a look trembling in every limb, mind you at the Chateau of Eaucourt Sainte-Anne. I had only to think of Mary to know just what Joan of Arc was. No man ever born could have done that kind of thing. It wasn't recklessness. It was sheer calculating courage. Then Blenkiron took up the tale.
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