seemed to be moving towards us. I heard a high-pitched
voice cry out a jabber of excited words, and it seemed to me that I had
heard the voice before.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Companions of the Rosy Hours

We battled to a corner, where a jut of building stood out into the
street. It was our only chance to protect our backs, to stand up with
the rib of stone between us. It was only the work of seconds. One
instant we were groping our solitary way in the darkness, the next we
were pinned against a wall with a throaty mob surging round us.

It took me a moment or two to realize that we were attacked. Every man
has one special funk in the back of his head, and mine was to be the
quarry of an angry crowd. I hated the thought of it--the mess, the
blind struggle, the sense of unleashed passions different from those of
any single blackguard. It was a dark world to me, and I don't like
darkness. But in my nightmares I had never imagined anything just like
this. The narrow, fetid street, with the icy winds fanning the filth,
the unknown tongue, the hoarse savage murmur, and my utter ignorance as
to what it might all be about, made me cold in the pit of my stomach.

'We've got it in the neck this time, old man,' I said to Peter, who had
out the pistol the commandant at Rustchuk had given him. These pistols
were our only weapons. The crowd saw them and hung back, but if they
chose to rush us it wasn't much of a barrier two pistols would make.

Rasta's voice had stopped. He had done his work, and had retired to
the background. There were shouts from the crowd--'_Alleman_' and a
word '_Khafiyeh_' constantly repeated. I didn't know what it meant at
the time, but now I know that they were after us because we were Boches
and spies. There was no love lost between the Constantinople scum and
their new masters. It seemed an ironical end for Peter and me to be
done in because we were Boches. And done in we should be. I had heard
of the East as a good place for people to disappear in; there were no
inquisitive newspapers or incorruptible police.

I wished to Heaven I had a word of Turkish. But I made my voice heard
for a second in a pause of the din, and shouted that we were German
sailors who had brought down big guns for Turkey, and were going home
next day. I asked them what the devil they thought we had done? I
don't know if any fellow there understood German; anyhow, it only
brought a pandemonium of cries in wh