He did not seem a very prosperous member of the fraternity, to judge by his dress; but then he was young, and had the world before him. He felt the woman's pulse and her heart, and said presently, "She is not dead; but she soon will be unless she gets proper care and nourishment. Who will help me to carry her into my dispensary close by?" Jack volunteered, quite forgetting his recent illness; but Barkev raised an objection. "Better bring her to the Mission House," he said. "Miss Celandine has food and medicine, and will take good care of her." "Miss Celandine will have her hands full. Besides, my place is near. Yes, sir, take her feet,"--he nodded to Jack. "I'll manage the rest. This way, please." "You are a good fellow, Melkon Effendi, and I believe you are right," said Barkev, his attention claimed by another of the miserable group, who was begging in God's name for a bit of bread, as they had eaten nothing for several days but grass and roots. Jack helped Melkon to lay his patient on the surgery table, and watched his efforts to restore animation. "Who are they?" he asked. The young doctor answered in broken phrases without stopping his work. "From one of the villages--Rhoumkali--fugitives--there has been a massacre--wholesale--of our people--by Turks and Kourds." "Horrible!" "Horrible? If you had seen the Sassoun refugees when they came here last winter, you might talk of horror. I believe the young Mission lady, Miss Fairchild, sacrificed her life to them." Miss Fairchild, Shushan's friend! "Is she dead then?" Jack asked anxiously. "They sent her away still hanging between life and death, and we know not yet which will conquer. But, as for massacres--to-day there, to-morrow here." "Not _here_, in a great city like this--not here surely," Jack said. "But the villages, the little towns like Biridjik, for them one's heart trembles," he added, his thoughts flying to Shushan. "She is coming to," said Melkon cheerfully, the duty of the moment shutting out the terrors of the future. "Well, my lad, what do _you_ want?"--this to a youth who appeared in the doorway. "Oh, I see; you are one of Baron Thomassian's people, and come just in time to fetch what I want. I am out of these drugs," and he handed him a list. "You shall have them, Melkon Effendi," said the young man. "But my business now is with the other gentleman. I have just met Baron Barkev Vartonian, who told me I should find him here." "With _me_?" said Jack, a little excited; for what possible business could Thomassian have with him, except to give him a letter from England; or, at least, a letter or a message from the Consul? "With you, sir. My master salutes you with all respect, and begs of you to honour his poor dwelling with a visit, and to drink his black coffee."