life. The
Superintendent of the Telegraph himself is here to inform us that
Khalid was accused to the Military Tribunal as a reactionist, and a
cablegram, in which he is summoned there, is just received.

"Had I delivered this to the Vali," he continues, "you would have been
now in the hands of the police, and to-morrow on your way to
Constantinople. But I shall not deliver it until you are safe out of
the City. And you must fly or abscond to-day, because I can not delay
the message until to-morrow."

Now Khalid and Shakib and Mrs. Gotfry take counsel together. The one
train for Baalbek leaves in the morning; the carriage road is ruined
from disuse; and only on horseback can we fly. So, Mrs. Gotfry orders
her dragoman to hire horses for three,--nay, for four, since we must
have an extra guide with us,--and a muleteer for the baggage.

And here Shakib interposes a suggestion: "They must not come to the
Hotel. Be with them on the road, near the first bridge, about the
first hour of night."

At the office of the Hotel the dragoman leaves word that they are
leaving for a friend's house on account of their patient.

And after dinner Mrs. Gotfry and Khalid set forth afoot, accompanied
by Shakib. In five minutes they reach the first bridge; the dragoman
and the guide, with their horses and lanterns, are there waiting.
Shakib helps Khalid to his horse and bids them farewell. He will leave
for Baalbek by the first train, and be there ahead of them.

* * * * *

And now, Reader, were we really romancing, we should here dilate of
the lovely ride in the lovely moonlight on the lovely road to Baalbek.
But truth to tell, the road is damnable, the welkin starless, the
night pitch-black, and our poor Dreamer is suffering from his wounds.

CHAPTER IX

THE STONING AND FLIGHT

"And whence the subtle thrill of joy in suffering for the Truth," asks
Khalid. "Whence the light that flows from the wounds of martyrs?
Whence the rapture that triumphs over their pain? In the thick of
night, through the alcoves of the mountains, over their barren peaks,
down through the wadi of oblivion, silently they pass. And they dream.
They dream of appearance in disappearance; of triumph in surrender; of
sunrises in the sunset.

"A mighty tidal wave leaves high upon the beach a mark which later on
becomes the general level of the ocean. And so do the great thinkers
of the world,--the poets and see