Between Mrs. Morgenthau’s trips Bedri had arrived. He told me that Talaat had himself given the order for closing all the institutions and that they had intended to have the entire job finished before nine o’clock. I have already said that the Turks have a sense of humour; but to this statement I should add that it sometimes manifests itself in a perverted form. Bedri now seemed to think that locking more than seventy Catholic sisters in two rooms and turning two hundred young and carefully nurtured girls into the streets of Constantinople was a great joke. “We were going at it early in the morning and have it all over before you heard anything about it,” he said with a laugh. “But you seem never to be asleep.” “You are very foolish to try to play such tricks on us,” I said. “Don’t you know that I am going to write a book? If you go on behaving this way, I shall put you in as the villain.” This remark was an inspiration of the moment; it was then that it first occurred to me that these experiences might prove sufficiently interesting for publication. Bedri took the statement seriously, and it seemed to have a sobering effect. “Do you really intend to write a book?” he asked, almost anxiously. “Why not?” I rejoined. “General Lew Wallace was minister here--didn’t he write a book? ‘Sunset’ Cox was also minister here--didn’t he write one? Why shouldn’t I? And you are such an important character that I shall have to give you a part. Why do you go on acting in a way that will make me describe you as a very bad man? These sisters here have always been your friends. They have never done you anything but good; they have educated many of your daughters; why do you treat them in this shameful fashion?” This plea produced an effect; Bedri consented to postpone execution of the order until we could get Talaat on the wire. In a few minutes I heard Talaat laughing over the telephone. “I tried to escape you,” he said, “but you have caught me again. Why make such a row about this matter? Didn’t the French themselves expel all their nuns and monks? Why shouldn’t we do it?” After I had remonstrated over this indecent haste Talaat told Bedri to suspend the order until we had had a chance to talk the matter over. Naturally this greatly relieved Mère Elvira and the sisters. Just as we were about to leave, Bedri suddenly had a new idea. There was one detail which he had apparently forgotten. “We’ll leave the Sion sisters alone for the present,” he said, “but we must get their money.”