three minutes. That proves nothing."

"There is the probability," I argued. "Many persons have disappeared in
Stamboul before now."

"Nonsense, Griggs," he answered. "You know that when anything of the
kind has occurred it has generally turned out that the missing man was
bankrupt. He disappeared to reappear somewhere else under another name.
I do not believe a word of all those romances. To you Franks we are a
nation of robbers, murderers, and thieves; we are the Turkey of Byron,
always thirsting for blood, spilling it senselessly, and crying out for
more. If that idiot allowed his brother to kill him without attracting a
crowd,--in Stamboul, in the last week of Ramazan, when everybody is out
of doors,--he deserved his fate, that is all."

"I do not believe he is dead," I said, "and I have come here to ask you
to make the acquaintance of Paul Patoff. If you still believe him to be
a murderer when you have heard him tell his story, I shall be very much
surprised."

"I should tear him to pieces if I met him," said Balsamides, with a
laugh. "The mere sight of anybody called Patoff would bring on an attack
of the nerves."

"Be serious," said I. "Do you think I would be so foolish as to interest
myself in this business unless I believed that it could be cleared of
all mystery and explained?"

"You have been in England," retorted Gregorios. "That will explain any
kind of insanity. Do you want me to pester every office in the
government with new inquiries? It will do no good. Everything has been
tried. The man is gone without leaving a trace. No amount of money will
produce information. Can I say more? Where money fails, a man need not
be so foolish as to hope anything from his intelligence."

"I am foolish enough to hope something," I replied. "If you will not
help me, I must go elsewhere. I will not give up the thing at the
start."

"Well, if I say I will help you, what do you expect me to do? Can I do
anything which has not been done already? If so, I will do it. But I
will not harness myself to a rotten cart, as the proverb says. It is
quite useless to expect anything more from the police."

"I expect nothing from them. I believe that Alexander is alive, and has
been hidden by somebody rich enough and strong enough to baffle
pursuit."

"What put that into your head?" asked my companion, looking at me with
sudden curiosity.

"Nothing but the reduction of the thing to the last analysis. Either he
is dead, o