said Johnson anxiously. "My friend will
require a clear space for starting his aeroplane, and without your men
we shall never get the crowd back."

The officer agreed to wait until the Englishman departed, and Johnson
returned to Smith to give him the paper he had received from
Benzonana. Callard had already related their experiences at the
Ministry of War and the Custom House.

"But what about the petrol?" asked Smith. "Time's getting on."

"He said he had it all ready to send. Ah! I guess this is it coming."

A way was parted through the crowd, and there came up with great
rattling and creaking a heavy motor omnibus of the type that first
appeared on the streets of London. It was crowded within and without
with Turks young and old.

"Where did you get that old rattler?" asked Smith, laughing.

"Oh, several came out here a year or two ago; bought up cheap when the
Commissioner of Police couldn't stand 'em any longer. They're always
breaking down. No doubt your petrol is inside, and you may think
yourself lucky it has got here."

The car came to a stand: the Turks on the roof retained their places;
those within lugged out the cans of petrol and oil, and placed them in
the aeroplane at Rodier's direction. Smith meanwhile was chatting with
the Englishmen, fending off their questions as to his destination.

"I may send you a wire from my next stopping-place," he said. "That
reminds me. Will you send a wire to Barracombe for me, Johnson? You
know his address. And one to my sister at home. I promised I would let
her know. Simply say 'All well.' Now can you get the captain to clear
the course for me?"

The captain and his men took a long time over this business, and Smith
longed for a few London policemen to show them how to do it. But the
excited crowd was at length forced back so far as to allow a
sufficient running-off space. Smith shook hands warmly with the
Englishmen; with Rodier he took his place in the car; then at a jerk
of the lever the aeroplane shot forward, and, amid cries of "Good
luck!" from the Englishmen, clapping of hands and loud "Mashallahs!"
from the excited mob, it rose gracefully into the air.

"Only five minutes late, mister," said Rodier. "All goes well."

CHAPTER V

THE TOMB OF UR-GUR

Charles Thesiger Smith was not one of the romantic, imaginative order
of men. Even if he had been, the speed at which he travelled over the
Bosphorus gave scant opportunity for observation of th