e shape of
positive fears. Still the echoes came to his ears through the heavy
curtain, while from without the distant hum of the city, given up to
gayety after the day's long fast, mingled discordantly with the sounds
from within. He was aware that his heart was beating faster than usual,
and that he was beginning to suffer the excitement of fear. He tried to
reason with himself, saying that it was foolish to make so much of so
little; but in the arguments of reason against terror, the latter
generally gets the advantage and keeps it. Paul had a strong desire to
follow the kavass into the vestibule, and to see for himself whether his
brother were there or not. He rarely carried weapons, as Alexander did,
but he trusted in his own strength to save him. He drew his watch from
his pocket, resolving to wait five minutes longer, and then, if the
kavass did not return, to lift the curtain, come what might. He struck a
match, and looked at the dial. It was a quarter past ten o'clock. Then,
to occupy his mind, he began to try and count the three hundred seconds,
fancying that he could see a pendulum swinging before his eyes in the
dark. At twenty minutes past ten he would go in.

But he did not reach the end of his counting. The curtain suddenly moved
a little, allowing a ray of bright light to fall out into the darkness,
and in the momentary flash Paul saw the gorgeous uniform and
accoutrements of the embassy kavass. He was alone, and Paul's heart
sank. He remembered very vividly the dark and scowling faces and the
fiery eyes of the turbaned men who had stood before the door an hour
earlier, and he began to fear some dreadful catastrophe. The kavass came
quickly forward, and Paul stepped out of the shadow and confronted him.

"Well?"

"He has not been there," answered the soldier, in agitated tones. "I
went all through the crowd, and searched everywhere. I asked many
persons. They laughed at the idea of a Frank gentleman in a hat
appearing amongst them. He must have gone out into the street."

"We searched the gallery thoroughly, did we not?" asked Paul. "Are you
sure he could not have been hidden somewhere?"

"Perfectly, Effendim. He is not there."

"Then we must look for him in the streets," said Paul, growing very
pale. He turned to ascend the steps from the gate to the road.

"It is not my fault, Effendim," answered the soldier. "Did you not see
him leave the gallery?"

"It is nobody's fault but his own," returne