d Patoff. "I was looking down
at the people. He must have slipped away like a cat."

They reached the carriage, and Paul got inside. It was a landau, and the
kavass and the coachman opened the front, so that Patoff might get a
better view of the streets. The kavass mounted the box, and explained to
the coachman that they must search Stamboul as far as possible for the
lost Effendi. But the coachman turned sharply round on his seat and
spoke to Paul.

"The gentleman did not come out," he said emphatically. "I have been
watching for you ever since you went in. He is inside the Agia
Sophia--somewhere."

Paul was disconcerted. He had not thought of making inquiries of the
coachman, supposing that Alexander might easily have slipped past in the
darkness. But the man seemed very positive.

"Wait in the carriage, Effendim," said the kavass, once more descending
from his seat. "If he is inside I will find him. I will search the
galleries again. He cannot have gone through the vestibule."

Before Paul could answer him the man had plunged once more down the
black steps, and the Russian was condemned a second time to a long
suspense, during which he was frequently tempted to leave the carriage
and explore the church for himself. He felt the cold perspiration on his
brow, and his hand trembled as he took out his watch again and again. It
was nearly a quarter of an hour before the kavass returned. The man was
now very pale, and seemed as much distressed as Paul himself. He
silently shook his head, and, mounting to the box seat, ordered the
coachman to drive on.

The city was ablaze with lights. Every mosque was illuminated, and the
minarets, decked out with thousands of little lamps, looked like fiery
needles piercing the black bosom of the sky. The carriage drove from
place to place, passing where a crowd was gathered together, hastening
down dark and deserted streets, to emerge again upon some brilliantly
lighted square, thronged with men in fez and turban and with women
veiled in the eternal yashmak. More than once Paul started in his seat,
fancying that he could discover on the borders of the crowd the two
ladies, with their attendant, who had been the cause of the scuffle in
the Valley of Roses that afternoon. Again, he thought he could
distinguish his brother's features among the moving faces, but always
the sight of the dark red fez told him that he was wrong. He was driven
round Agia Sophia, beneath the splendid festo