breaking into a benignant smile, he shook hands with the
waiter warmly, turned in silence, mounted his horse and rode off after
the native cart, which had already started.

"You don't know where we're goin' to, I s'pose?" said Lancey to the
driver of the cart.

The man stared, but made no reply.

"Ah, I thought not!" said Lancey; then he tried him in Turkish, but a
shake of the head intimated the man's stupidity, or his interrogator's
incapacity.

Journeying in silence over a flat marshy country, they arrived about
mid-day at a small village, before the principal inn of which stood a
number of richly-caparisoned chargers. Here Lancey found that he was
expected to lunch and join the party, though in what capacity he failed
to discover. The grave uncommunicative nature of the Turks had
perplexed and disappointed him so often that he had at last resigned
himself to his fate, and given up asking questions, all the more
readily, perhaps, that his fate at the time chanced to be a pleasant
one.

When the party had lunched, and were preparing to take the road, it
became obvious that he was not regarded as a great man travelling
incognito, for no one took notice of him save a Turk who looked more
like a servant than an aristocrat. This man merely touched him on the
shoulder and pointed to his horse with an air that savoured more of
command than courtesy.

Lancey took the hint and mounted. He also kept modestly in rear. When
the cavalcade was ready a distinguished-looking officer issued from the
inn, mounted his charger, and at once rode away, followed by the others.
He was evidently a man of rank.

For several days they journeyed, and during this period Lancey made
several attempts at conversation with the only man who appeared to be
aware of his existence--who, indeed, was evidently his guardian. But,
like the rest, this man was taciturn, and all the information that could
be drawn out of him was that they were going to Constantinople.

I hasten over the rest of the journey. On reaching the sea, they went
on board a small steamer which appeared to have been awaiting them. In
course of time they came in sight of the domes and minarets of Stamboul,
the great city of the Sultans, the very heart of Europe's apple of
discord.

It was evening, and the lights of the city were everywhere glittering
like long lines of quivering gold down into the waters of the Bosporus.
Here the party with which Lancey had travelled