ven under her wet, dark hair. She seemed to be a
Caucasian girl--maybe a Georgian. She wore a small gold cross
which hung from a gold cord around her neck. There was another,
and tighter, cord around her neck, too. I cut the silk bowstring
and closed and bound her eyes with my handkerchief before I rowed
out a little farther and lowered her into the deep channel which
cuts eastward here like the scimitar of that true believer, Abdul
Hamid.

Then I hoisted sail and beat up slowly toward my little dock under
a moon which had become ghastly under the pallid aura of a
gathering storm----

"A poor dead young lady!" interrupted the child, clasping her hands
more tightly. "Did the Sultan kill her, daddy?"

"It seems so, Ruhannah."

"Why?"

"I don't know. He was a very cruel and wicked Sultan."

"I don't see why he killed the beautiful poor dead lady."

"If you will listen and not interrupt, you shall learn why."

"And was the chest that Herr Wilner pulled up the very same chest that
is here on the floor beside me?" insisted the child.

"The very same. Now listen, Rue, and I shall read a little more in
Herr Wilner's diary, and then you must have your bath and be put to
bed----"

"Please read, daddy!"

The Reverend Wilbour Carew turned the page and quietly continued:

_March 20._ In my own quarters at Trebizond again, and rid of
Murad for a while.

A canvas cover and rope handles concealed the character of my
olive wood chest. I do not believe anybody suspects it to be
anything except one of the various boxes containing my own
personal effects. I shall open it tonight with a file and chisel,
if possible.

_March 21._ The contents of the chest reveal something of the
tragedy. The box is full of letters written in Russian, and full
of stones which weigh collectively a hundred pounds at least.
There is nothing else in the chest except a broken Ikon and a
bronze figure of Erlik, a Yildiz relic, no doubt, of some Kurdish
raid into Mongolia, and probably placed beside the dead girl by
her murderers in derision. I am translating the letters and
arranging them in sequence.

_March 25._ I have translated the letters. The dead girl's name
was evidently Tatyana, one of several children of some Cossack
chief or petty prince, and on the eve of her marriage to a young
officer named Mitya the Kurds raided the town. They