Baron Muggurditch Thomassian was emphatically the courteous, cultured, cosmopolitan Armenian. He had amassed a considerable fortune in his business, which was that of a merchant of drugs; and to which he joined some cautious and lucrative money-lending. Moreover, he had travelled far, and seen much. He could speak several languages quite well enough to make shrewd bargains in them; and he knew the art of spending as well as of making money. He could appreciate music, poetry, and painting, no less than luxuries of a more material kind. Yet Jack felt as if he could never love him, never trust him even, as he did his friends in Biridjik. "I don't know what it is," he said to himself; "for there is nothing amiss with his looks, except perhaps something a little shifty about his eyes." Nothing, however, could have been more courteous than his response to Jack's request that he would take charge of his letter, and see it safe into some really reliable post-office. "I am asking my friends to send money to bring me home," he added, by way of explanation. "How did you tell them to send it, Mr. Grayson?" asked Thomassian. "I never thought of telling them how. I thought they would know themselves," Jack answered simply. "It is not so simple a matter as you think," said Thomassian. "Then what must I do? Stay, could it be managed this way? You are going to Aleppo?" "Yes, Effendi." "The English Consul there was my father's friend, and very kind to us. He would let my uncle send the money to him, and would know how to send it to me. I daresay he would write to my uncle too. You will ask him, will you not, Baron Thomassian?" "I will do it without fail." "And I am very grateful to you," Jack said, giving him his hand in English fashion, though the courteous Eastern did not fail to bow low over it. Next morning Muggurditch Thomassian went his way, taking with him Jack's letter and Jack's chief friend Kevork, but leaving behind him what was destined to be of still more importance in the life of the English youth. FOOTNOTES: [1] The "perch" upon which the Turkish guard reposed was a kind of booth, erected on the top of four poles, twelve or fifteen feet high, planted firmly in the ground. [2] Miss. Chapter VI ROSES AND BATH TOWELS "He moved about the house with joy And with the certain step of man." --_Tennyson._ "Good-morning, Mr. John, I give you my salvation."