men stole a car belonging to one of Enver
Damad's staff. It describes you all, and says that two of you are
notorious spies wanted by the Imperial Government. What have you to
say to that?'

'Only that it is rubbish. My good Sir, you have seen our passes. Our
errand is not to be cried on the housetops, but five minutes with
General Posselt will make things clear. You will be exceedingly sorry
for it if you delay another minute.'

He was impressed in spite of himself, and after pulling his moustache
turned on his heel and left us. Presently he came back and said very
gruffly that the Governor would see us. We followed him along a
corridor into a big room looking out on the river, where an oldish
fellow sat in an arm-chair by a stove, writing letters with a fountain
pen.

This was Posselt, who had been Governor of Erzerum till he fell sick
and Ahmed Fevzi took his place. He had a peevish mouth and big blue
pouches below his eyes. He was supposed to be a good engineer and to
have made Erzerum impregnable, but the look on his face gave me the
impression that his reputation at the moment was a bit unstable.

The staff-officer spoke to him in an undertone.

'Yes, yes, I know,' he said testily. 'Are these the men? They look a
pretty lot of scoundrels. What's that you say? They deny it. But
they've got the car. They can't deny that. Here, you,' and he fixed
on Blenkiron, 'who the devil are you?'

Blenkiron smiled sleepily at him, not understanding one word, and I
took up the parable.

'Our passports, Sir, give our credentials,' I said. He glanced through
them, and his face lengthened.

'They're right enough. But what about this story of stealing a car?'

'It is quite true,' I said, 'but I would prefer to use a pleasanter
word. You will see from our papers that every authority on the road is
directed to give us the best transport. Our own car broke down, and
after a long delay we got some wretched horses. It is vitally
important that we should be in Erzerum without delay, so I took the
liberty of appropriating an empty car we found outside an inn. I am
sorry for the discomfort of the owners, but our business was too grave
to wait.'

'But the telegram says you are notorious spies!'

I smiled. 'Who sent the telegram?'

'I see no reason why I shouldn't give you his name. It was Rasta Bey.
You've picked an awkward fellow to make an enemy of.'

I did not smile but laughed. 'Rasta!' I cried. '