After climbing in this way for nearly ten minutes, Selim stopped
before what appeared to be a small door sunk in a niche in the wall. I
heard a bunch of keys jingling in his hand, and in a few seconds he
admitted us. Balsamides held him firmly by the sleeve, as he turned to
lock the door behind us.

"You shall not lock it," he said in a low voice. "Are we mice to be
caught in a trap?"

Having made sure that the door was open, he pushed Selim forward. We
seemed to be in a very spacious garden, surrounded by high walls on all
sides. The trees were bare, excepting a few tall cypresses, which reared
their black spear-like heads against the dim sky. The flower-beds were
covered with dark earth, and the gravel in the paths was rough, as
though no one had trod upon it for a long time. The walls protected the
place from the wind, and a gloomy stillness prevailed, broken only by
the distant sighing of trees higher up, which caught the northern gale.

Selim followed the wall for some distance, and at last stood still. We
had reached one angle of the garden, and as well as I could see the
corner made by the walls was filled by a low stone building with
latticed windows, from one of which issued a faint light. Going nearer,
I saw that the lattices were not of wood, but were strong iron gratings,
such as no man's strength could break. The door in the middle of this
stone box was also heavily ironed. Selim went forward, and again I heard
the keys rattle in his hands. Almost instantly the shadow of a head
appeared at the window whence the light came. While the Lala was
unfastening the lock I went close to the grating. I was just tall enough
to meet a pair of dark eyes gazing at me intently through the lowest
bars.

"Alexander Patoff, is it you?" I asked in Russian.

"Good God!" exclaimed a tremulous voice. "Have the Russians taken
Constantinople at last? Who are you?"

"I am Paul Griggs. We have come to set you free."

The heavy door yielded and moved. I rushed in, and in another moment I
clasped the lost man's hand. Gregorios, far more prudent than I, held
Selim by the collar as a man would hold a dog, for he feared some
treachery.

"Is it really you?" I asked, for I could scarcely believe my eyes.
Alexander looked at me once, then broke into hysterical tears, laughing
and crying and sobbing all at once. He was indeed unrecognizable. I
remembered the descriptions I had heard of the young dandy, the gay
officer of a crack r