or him. The man swore at him in bad German
and Renwick drew back against the wall, sure that the game was up, until
he realized that the fellow was only cursing because he was almost, if
not quite as much startled as Renwick. So the Englishman, regaining his
composure, bowed politely and would have gone on, but the policeman
spoke.

"Which way have you come?" he asked.

"From the Kastele."

"You have seen no bareheaded man with a beard, wearing a long blue
coat?"

"A long blue coat? There are none with long blue coats in the Kastele in
the month of August."

"Pfui--! I do not wonder!" said the fat Bosnian, and hurried on.

But the venture made Renwick more cautious, and he avoided the
street-lights, moving under the shadows of walls and houses, at last
reaching the tortuous alleyway down which he had once come to inspect
the house with the _meshrebiya_ windows. Almost two months had passed
since he had stood in this spot, watching these same lighted windows,
unaware of the success that had been almost within his grasp. Outwardly
nothing was changed. The blue door faced him, and gathering courage, he
crossed the street and entered the garden. It was very dark under the
trees and he went quietly forward, stopping by the fountain to listen
for sounds within the house. He realized that it was growing late, and
that while the garden offered him a refuge from those who were seeking
him in the city, daylight would make his tenure precarious even here. If
the girl Yeva would only come down into the garden! He waited by the
bench listening, and presently was rewarded by hearing a light rippling
laugh from the room above the door. She was there--the girl--but not
alone--with the old woman perhaps, or the man with the beard. Renwick
listened again and watched the window, but heard nothing more. There
was nothing for it but to put on a bold front, so summoning his courage,
he walked to the door of the house and loudly knocked.

There was an exclamation, a sound of footsteps upon the stair, and at
last the bolt of the door was shot and the door opened. Zubeydeh stood,
a lantern in her hand, scrutinizing him.

He spoke in German at once. "I come upon an urgent matter," he said
coolly. "Upon a matter very important to the owner of this house----"

"Speak--what do you want?" she asked.

"I bear a message."

"The Effendi is not at home----"

"Ah--then Yeva may receive it."

"Yeva! Who are you?"

He smiled. "For the pr