filled him with burning excitement.
The two had always been the best of chums, more like an elder and younger
brother than father and son.

'Where is he?' he asked sharply.

'At present in Constantinople,' replied Henkel, who was watching Ken
keenly. 'But it is likely that he will presently be sent elsewhere.'

'What--into Asia Minor?' said Ken in dismay. Constantinople was bad
enough, but nothing to the horrors of the Turkish prisons in Asia.

'Not so far as that. He is to be moved, with others of the British and
French, to Gallipoli.'

Ken's cheeks went white. His eyes were full of horror.

'You are perhaps aware,' continued Henkel, 'that the Turkish Government
has decided upon this step as a response to the bombardment of unfortified
places by your fleet. If Turkish civilians are to be killed, it is only
fair that enemy civilians should share their fate.'

'Enver Bey seems to have learnt his German pretty thoroughly,' put in Roy
sarcastically.

Henkel's eyes glared as he turned upon him.

'Be silent!' he ordered, with a fury he could hardly repress.

Roy merely smiled, and Henkel turned again to Ken.

'It lies with you whether your father goes to Gallipoli or not,' he said
curtly. 'I have sufficient influence to prevent his being sent there.'

'How do you mean?' Ken asked thickly.

'I will tell you plainly. Your father still holds the title deeds of
certain property near Ipsala. This property he has, of course, forfeited
since his conviction. I wish to purchase this land from the Turkish
Government, but owing to the absence of the deeds, which are, apparently,
in a London bank, there are difficulties as to the transfer.

'What I require is a letter from you to your father, asking him to
authorise the return of these deeds. In return for this small service I
will arrange for you and your companion to be treated as prisoners of war
and sent to Constantinople, where you will remain until the end of the
war, as will also your father.'

He stopped, and stood watching Ken keenly.

Ken was in an agony of indecision. So far as he himself was concerned, he
would not have hesitated a moment in refusing the terms offered by Henkel.
But there was his father to think of--and Roy.

His voice was strained and harsh as he spoke again.

'How do you know that my father would agree to any such letter, even if I
was to write it?' he asked.

'Because,' answered Henkel, 'your life will depend upon a favourable
answ