dark, good-looking despite his glasses, and intelligent; he is, above all, an honest and kindly gentleman. If all the "fanatics" of Angora are of this description, I shall have nothing to fear. Abdul Halik Bey is a great admirer of England.
Begging I should not hesitate to ask for anything, assuring me that no service possible to render will be neglected, he called up the head of the police and three of his officers to make my acquaintance. The Vali explains that as Smyrna is in ruins, I must go to the only existing hotel—a temporary establishment under the care of Naim Bey, who had been the proprietor of the two best hotels in Smyrna, now burnt to the ground. This "temporary establishment" was the town residence of the Spartallis and a very fine mansion indeed!
When I had said au revoir to the Vali, I paid my return visit to the chief of the police, Zia Bey—a handsome and very energetic young man of about thirty-two, who speaks only Turkish.
Again we drank coffee. He pointed to the picture of M. Kemal Pasha above his desk, and made a little speech about him, which, alas, I could not understand. As comment, however, I clapped my hands, adding: "M. Kemal Pasha Chok Guzel" (i.e., very beautiful), which evidently pleased him. He could see at least that my spirit was willing to pay tribute to his national hero although the Turkish words failed me. Throughout Anatolia, whenever at a loss for words, I adopted this phrase; never once did it fail to convey the meaning I intended—congratulations for his magnificent victory.
Zia Bey has published some detective novels—from his own personal experiences. Like the man himself, they seem to have secured wide applause.
He, too, like the Vali, is a stern enemy to delay, and often receives several people at once. He will listen to all you have to say, while the business of an earlier caller is still to be executed. Practical and courteous though such a custom may be, it obviously has its drawbacks. I wonder what would happen had
