pole—and then threw in the gendarmes who ran to arrest him—and only ran when the Eenglis consul came?"
"I remember," said the consul.
"I told you you knew me."
"Yet you don't look quite like that man."
"Neither does to-day's wind blow like yesterday's!"
"What is your name?"
"Then it was Ali."
"What is it now?"
"The name God gave me?"
"Yes."
"God knows!"
"What do you want here?"
He spread out his arms toward us four, and grinned.
"Look—see! Four Eenglis sportman! Could a man want more?"
"Your face is hauntingly familiar," said the consul, searching old memories.
"No doubt. Who carried your honor's letter to Adrianople in time of war, and received a bullet, but brought the answer back?"
"What—are you that man—Kagig?"
Instead of replying the man opened his smock, and pulled aside an undershirt until his hairy left breast lay bare down to where the nipple should have been. Why a bullet that drilled that nipple so neatly had not pierced the heart was simply mystery.
"Kagig, by jove! Kagig with a beard! Nobody would know you but for that scar."
"But now you know me surely? Tell these Eenglis sportman, then, that I am good man—good guide! Tell them they come with me to Zeitoon!"
The consul's face darkened swiftly, clouded by some
