“If only he’ll take your word for it,” Swithin muttered. “It’s a tall order to expect him to believe that his own trusted friends—people like Prince Ali—are out to do him in, when we can’t offer a shred of proof.”
“Well, we may have some news by the time you wake up.”
Swithin turned over in the comfortable bed. “Look here, I want you to promise me one thing. I meant to ask you downstairs.”
“What is it?”
“To wake me in two hours from now. That will be enough sleep to put me on my feet again, and I can’t bear the thought of being idle longer while we don’t know what’s happened to Diana.”
“All right, I will.”
“Thanks.”
As Tyndall-Williams made the promise Swithin shut his eyes. The very next moment, it seemed to him, the diplomat was shaking him by the shoulder and saying: “Your two hours are up.”
He stirred and rolled over as the other added: “I’ve got some good news for you. Sir George Duncannon is downstairs.”
“By Jove! Where did he spring from?” Swithin exclaimed, wide awake at once.
“He came in on his yacht last night and he sent for his brother Allan and the two girls immediately he arrived so that he could hear the latest news. They did not get on board till half past ten and sat talking until well past two, then, as it would have taken them an hour or more to get back to Bebek, they decided to spend the night on the yacht.”
“Diana’s safe then?”
“Yes.” A kind smile lit the diplomat’s mild blue eyes for a second. “I’m afraid you’ve had your scare for nothing. But Sir George is anxious to see you, so if you feel fit enough you had better get up now.”
“Rather. I’m still a bit sore and stiff, but that two hours nap has made all the difference.”
“Good.” Tyndall-Williams pointed to some clothes neatly folded on a nearby chair. “I thought Kazdim’s people might recognise you in your seaman’s get-up next time you go out, so I got these instead. They are hardly likely to be looking for a chauffeur in plain livery. You’ll find some money in the inside pocket too as they cleaned you out.”
“Thanks most awfully!” Swithin scrambled out of bed and began to don his new disguise. The uniform was a little large for him but that was a minor matter, and a few minutes later he followed Tyndall-Williams downstairs.
Sir George was with the Ambassador, Sir Francis Cavendish, a short, rotund, red-faced little man to whom he introduced Swithin at once, while Tyndall-Williams disappeared to make a telephone call. Then the banker said heartily:
“My dear Destime I’m proud of having discovered you, but I knew the very moment I saw you that I had picked the right man for this job. You have rendered an inestimable service, not only to British Banking interests but also to your country.”
“That’s nice of you, sir.” Swithin hesitated. “I was afraid that I had bungled things pretty badly—especially last night.”
“On the contrary, Captain Destime,” Sir Francis Cavendish remarked. “I think you have put up a remarkably fine show. If only Kemal will act on this information which we have been able to supply through your efforts it may be the means of averting an extremely grave situation.”
“Your excellency is most kind but that seems to me the real trouble. Will Kemal act without any proof that my whole story is not a complete fabrication.”
The Ambassador nodded. “I appreciate your point and unfortunately the people in Angora tell me that Kemal left there last night for an unknown destination; but I spoke to Ismet Pasha, whose loyalty is beyond question, on the telephone this morning and he will receive your list of the secret armament depots by midday. I understand too that you have hopes of securing this er—Kaka wafer before to-night and that, signed by five leaders of the conspiracy, will be absolute proof of their treasonable intentions.”
“Yes, sir. It bears the actual oath of the Revolutionaries inscribed upon it, and this French woman in Prince Ali’s household has found out where he keeps it. The only thing is that even if she succeeds in her part of the job I cannot get hold of her until this evening. Won’t that be a little late for it to be of any use to us?”
“No, no. Night flying over the mountains in Asia Minor is unfortunately impossible, but I shall arrange for a private plane to be ready to leave at dawn to-morrow. Kemal, or Ismet in his absence, will receive it by about nine o’clock in the morning, and as the Revolution is not due to break out until midnight there would still be time for them to take measures against it.”
“In that case sir, of course I’ll do my very best to bring this vital piece of evidence in.”
“Fine my boy—fine!” beamed Sir George, “and I cannot congratulate you too heartily on the splendid work you have done. Diana was giving me details of it last night—a most glowing account.”
“Diana,” cried Swithin suddenly. “Where is she?”
The banker looked puzzled for a moment, then he said: “Why, she left us when we came ashore and went off on her own—but of course—she was going to pick up a further report from you at the Mosque of the Sweet Waters.”
“Good God! but don’t you realise …”
“Of course!” Sir Francis cut in. “If she is wandering about on her own Kazdim’s people may arrest her.”
“Surely not!” exclaimed Sir George. “She has not committed any crime. The police can have nothing against her.”
Swithin shook his head quickly. “They had nothing against me officially, but they arrested me just the same—and tried to kill me. They meant to arrest Diana last night and can only have refrained because when she went down to the yacht her uncle was with her.”
The Ambassador nodded. “Yes. They evidently didn’t like the idea of arresting Allan as well, and knew that if they took the girl without him he would have come straight here. Then they would have had to answer an immediate protest from the Embassy.”
“But in broad daylight …” Sir George began.
Swithin snatched up his peaked cap. “She will be in danger every moment she remains in Istanbul now they know that she has been working with me against the Kaka. I must try and get hold of her at once.”
“If you find her bring her back here. She will be safe in the Embassy but nowhere else,” Sir Francis called after him as he hurried from the room.
In the hall he caught sight of a clock. It was a quarter past ten and he knew that he would have all his work cut out to reach the “Sweet Waters of Europe’ by eleven o’clock, the time of his appointment with Diana. He fled down the steps of the Embassy, along the drive, and dashed out of the gates.
An empty taxi was just passing at cruising speed so he leapt on to the running board, told the taximan where he wished to go—and to drive like hell—then he swung himself into the cab.
As he turned to bang the door behind him he suddenly caught sight of Malik, staring at him from the pavement just outside the Embassy gates. Kazdim’s lieutenant jumped into the roadway, shouted to a policeman on a nearby street corner, and they both began to run after the cab, yelling and gesticulating.
By the mercy of heaven, Swithin’s driver, already visualising a large tip from his passenger’s request for speed, had not seen them and, almost immediately, switched his cab down towards the Petits Champs. The taxi was new and fast, it turned another corner and Swithin sat back with a sharp breath of relief.
Malik he guessed, had been sent to watch the Embassy, to see if he tried to take refuge there, and if so arrest him before he could get in; knowing that once he was inside he would be able to claim immunity from arrest as being on English soil. Only the fact that he had come out instead, which Malik was obviously not expecting, and the speed of his sudden exit had saved him; but it had been a narrow squeak and he realised with new apprehension that his last bolt hole had been closed to him. If he attempted to go in again they would get him for certain.
He leaned out of the window and gave his driver a new direction, telling him that he had change
d his mind about going to the Sweet Waters and would go out there another day. Then half way down to the Old Bridge he stopped the cab and, blessing Tyndall-Williams for his thoughtful provision of new funds, paid the man off. The driver might think him a mad Englishman but that did not matter; if Malik had taken the number of the cab and telephoned police headquarters to have it stopped they would not find him in it when they caught it.
He dived round another corner on foot, picked up a second taxi, ordered the man to drive to Kassim Pasha Street, abandoned the second cab there, picked up a third immediately the second was out of sight, and told the new man to drive as though Iblis were after him to the Mosque of the Sweet Waters.
By these manœuvres Swithin felt fairly certain that he must have thrown Malik off his trail, and his thoughts immediately reverted to Diana.
His principal fear was that she had been recognised when she came ashore that morning and followed by Kazdim’s men immediately she separated from her father. If so she had been in their net for the past hour. On the other hand, the Sweet Waters being right up at the extreme landward end of the Golden Horn it took the best part of an hour and a half to reach them by caique from Galata Bridge. She could not have landed much before half past nine so the chances were that she had set off up the Golden Horn at once and, if she had escaped recognition by the port police, it would have to be a very evil chance indeed for her to be spotted in a small boat on the water.
The taxi rattled on past the Naval Arsenal at Haskeuy and through the suburb of Abouselam, but he could only guess the time, and that filled him with additional anxiety. If Diana had escaped the police at the port but failed to find him when she arrived at the meeting place she might assume that he was not coming and return to the centre of the city. The Eunuch would be sure to have men on the look out for her at the Pera, the Tokatlian, Allan Duncannon’s house, and all the places which she was likely to visit, so she would then fall into their hands owing to his lateness in keeping the appointment.
At last the taxi pulled up in front of the wooden Mosque by the confluence of the two rivers where they flow into the Golden Horn at the place of the Sweet Waters. As Swithin jumped out a man came up to him and asked if he wished to see the Dervishes dance. He replied that he did and was led inside.
It was a large building, and its interior was similar to that of an ordinary Mosque except for a wide, very highly polished floor in its centre, which was enclosed by a low rail. Beyond, wooden platforms covered with piles of Persian rugs formed accommodation for the congregation and seated on them were a considerable number of guests, principally Turks.
Swithin ran his eye quickly over them but could not see Diana. He found to his relief that he was in good time after all so he prayed that she was on her way but had not yet arrived. Along the wall behind the rostrum was a row of windows latticed in wood from which he knew, in the old days when they were secluded from any eye except that of their husband, Turkish women used to watch the ceremony. Thinking it a good place to keep a look out for Diana, without being observed himself, he made his way to one of the windows through a series of little side rooms.
The ceremony was just about to commence. Twenty male dancers of all ages and types, dressed in long flowing robes, barefooted and befezzed, entered the main room in single file. On the far side of the floor was seated the Mullah, and the leader of the dancers having bowed before him moved off, slowly gyrating in a circle at a speed rather like that of a top at the end of its spin. One by one the others followed and within a few moments all twenty of them were whirling round and round in their own orbit, each keeping an equal distance from his neighbour, and all travelling in a uniform oval formation round a wide ellipse.
Swithin kept an anxious watch on the main door, only glancing now and again at the dancers. As they span all consciousness seemed to fade from their faces and they became like lifeless bodies obeying some strange unknown law which kept them spinning round and round without any reason known to the human mind. Beads of perspiration trickled off their feet until the entire track of the ellipse was slippery with human dampness. Sometimes they increased their pace until their gowns swirled about their waists. Some of them span with their arms stretched upright above their heads and at times they leant outward until their bodies seemed almost parallel with the floor.
Suddenly Swithin saw Diana come in. Overjoyed to know that she had escaped so far, he left his post and, hastening round, managed to intercept her before she reached the crowded rostrum.
“So the Red Knight has kept his tryst,” she said in a low voice, smiling as he came up to her.
“Yes, by the luck of the gods,” he grinned. “He has been taken twice since we talked chess at the Tobacco Depot, but he managed to pop out of the box and back on to the board again—but we’ve got to get back to Pera. The White Queen is in danger.”
She shot him a quick glance. “From the Red Knight?”
“I wish he could think so and that she had nothing worse to fear—but the Brontosaurus is after her—come on!”
“Is the danger here.”
“It’s everywhere now in Istanbul except at the British Embassy, and I’ve got to get you there as quickly as possible.”
She smiled again and followed his lead—dropping their verbal imagery. “If it is not actually coming round the corner then, do let’s stay here for a few moments. I’d like to watch the dancing.”
He hesitated. “I’d rather we headed for the Embassy right away.”
“No, please. I’ll come quite quietly now you have turned policeman—but it is two days since I have seen you. Surely you don’t dislike me so much that you want to get rid of me immediately?”
“Good Lord no!” he exclaimed fervently. “It’s only that I have been absolutely worried out of my wits about you.”
“I’ve been worried about you too,” she confessed, “and I can see you’ve been fighting from all the horrid cuts and bruises on your poor face. Do tell me what you’ve been up to.”
“All right then, but let’s get behind the scenes and watch the show from one of those latticed windows. Then if anyone we don’t want to see does walk in, at least we shall have a chance of spotting them before they see us.”
Swithin led her through the side rooms, and when they were comfortably ensconced in his old position he gave her a brief account of all that had happened to him. The Dervishes were still gyrating. Some of them were now frothing at the mouth. After a time, one suddenly collapsed and fell face downwards on the floor. He lay there inert but the dance continued. Another fell and then another until there were no more than a dozen left whirling round the slippery boards. All at once the remaining dancers stopped dead in their tracks, formed into single file, passed before the seated Mullah, bowing low, and walked right out of the building. The others, rigid insensible forms, remained outstretched upon the floor. The ceremony was over.
“You poor dear—you have had a ghastly time,” Diana exclaimed as Swithin finished his recital, “but you have performed marvels.”
“You really think I’ve—well, put up a fairly decent show?” he asked, flushing with pleasure.
“I’ve never met an old hand at the game, or a new, who could have done better.”
“Do you—do you really mean that Diana?” he insisted, half-afraid that she was only mocking him again, yet impressed despite himself by the ring in her voice.
“I do,” she assured him. “Of course it’s easy now to take back all the rotten things I said to you and you won’t think any better of me for it, but I was very mean, and stupid and unkind, when I ought to have tried to encourage and help you more in a most difficult undertaking.”
“Nonsense!” he protested. “Once we really got started you did everything for me that you possibly could. You’ve been marvellous.”
She shook her head. “I wish I could think so—but anyhow thank goodness it’s all finished now. We’ll go and sit in the British Embassy until the trouble is over. Neither of us has done
anything against the Turkish government, so we have nothing to fear and in a few days we will be on our way home again.”
“I’m afraid it’s not quite finished yet,” Swithin demurred. “I’ve got to meet Arif to-night and get Ali’s Kaka wafer from him—if Jeanette managed to get it. If I can pull that off I really shall have succeeded—but not before.”
“No! no!” she turned to him impulsively. “You have done enough—more than enough. It’s someone else’s turn now. One of the regular people from the Embassy can meet Arif.”
“That wouldn’t be much good. None of them know him and even if they recognised him from my description he would never trust them. I’ve got to go myself. Besides that piece of paper is Prince Ali’s death warrant, so I’ve a personal interest in collecting it.”
“No … please,” she begged, “you mustn’t. It is a desperate risk now that they are hunting for you all over Constantinople. Please don’t, Swithin—you simply mustn’t take any more chances. Not knowing what has been happening to you these last two nights has been hell—please don’t—I love you so.”
For a second he could hardly believe that she had said those words. Then he looked at her and saw that her eyes were brimming with unshed tears.
“Diana! Do you really mean that?” he asked breathlessly.
“You pig! Of course I do!” The tears brimmed over and came running down her cheeks.
“Oh my dear! I didn’t know—how could I?”
“You—you—you never believe anything unless it’s thrust in front of you—do you—and you hate me anyway,” her voice ended in a sob and she half turned away.
The Eunuch of Stamboul Page 26