behalf of another British subject who was not being treated properly.
"He's English, isn't he?" answered Talaat. "Then I shall do as I like with him!"
"Eat him, if you wish!" I replied.
"No," said Talaat, "he would go against my digestion."
He was altogether in a reckless mood. "Gott strafe England!" he shouted—using one of the few German phrases that he knew. "As to your Armenians, we don't give a rap for the future! We live only in the present! As to the English, I wish you would telegraph Washington that we shall not do a thing for them until they let out Ayoub Sabri and Zinnoun!"
Then leaning over, he struck a pose, pressed his hand to his heart, and said, in English—I think this must have been almost all the English he knew:
"Ayoub Sabri—he—my—brudder!"
Despite this I made another plea for Dr. McNaughton.
"He's not American," said Talaat, "he's a Canadian."
"It's almost the same thing," I said.
"Well," replied Talaat, "if I let him go, will you promise that the United States will annex Canada?"
"I promise," said I, and we both laughed at this little joke.
"Every time you come here," Talaat finally said, "you always steal something from me. All right, you can have your McNaughton!"
Certainly this interview was not an encouraging beginning, so far as the Armeniens were concerned. But Talaat was not always in an "Ayoub Sabri mood."
