t being from the friendless creature who had looked vainly the
day before for sanctuary. To begin with, I was splendidly dressed. I
had a navy-blue suit with square padded shoulders, a neat black
bow-tie, shoes with a hump at the toe, and a brown bowler. Over that I
wore a greatcoat lined with wolf fur. I had a smart malacca cane, and
one of Blenkiron's cigars in my mouth. Peter had been made to trim his
beard, and, dressed in unassuming pepper-and-salt, looked with his
docile eyes and quiet voice a very respectable servant. Old Blenkiron
had done the job in style, for, if you'll believe it, he had brought
the clothes all the way from London. I realized now why he and Sandy
had been fossicking in my wardrobe. Peter's suit had been of Sandy's
procuring, and it was not the fit of mine. I had no difficulty about
the accent. Any man brought up in the colonies can get his tongue
round American, and I flattered myself I made a very fair shape at the
lingo of the Middle West.

The wind had gone to the south and the snow was melting fast. There was
a blue sky above Asia, and away to the north masses of white cloud
drifting over the Black Sea. What had seemed the day before the
dingiest of cities now took on a strange beauty, the beauty of
unexpected horizons and tongues of grey water winding below
cypress-studded shores. A man's temper has a lot to do with his
appreciation of scenery. I felt a free man once more, and could use my
eyes.

That street was a jumble of every nationality on earth. There were
Turkish regulars in their queer conical khaki helmets, and wild-looking
levies who had no kin with Europe. There were squads of Germans in
flat forage-caps, staring vacantly at novel sights, and quick to salute
any officer on the side-walk. Turks in closed carriages passed, and
Turks on good Arab horses, and Turks who looked as if they had come out
of the Ark. But it was the rabble that caught the eye--very wild,
pinched, miserable rabble. I never in my life saw such swarms of
beggars, and you walked down that street to the accompaniment of
entreaties for alms in all the tongues of the Tower of Babel.
Blenkiron and I behaved as if we were interested tourists. We would
stop and laugh at one fellow and give a penny to a second, passing
comments in high-pitched Western voices.

We went into a cafe and had a cup of coffee. A beggar came in and
asked alms. Hitherto Blenkiron's purse had been closed, but now he
to