Presently half a dozen Turkish horse--Regulars, with a splendid-looking officer at their head, came dashing into the square, and sending both Turks and Christians running in all directions. But one Turk did not run, for he lay dying on the ground. It was the murderer of Baghas. The soldiers took up the wounded man and set him on a horse. And then the Turks began to return; a number of them gathered round the group, with a few Christians also. Jack heard them cry out that the man was dying. "How did you get here, Yon Effendi?" said the voice of Barkev Vartonian beside him. "I met Gabriel, and came. What are they going to do?" "Going to take the man to the Government House, I suppose. They will never get him there alive." "Barkev, who killed him?" "The zaptiehs, of course, when they could not get him from us. I _saw_ one of them stab him with a bayonet." "I thought one of our people might have done it, seeing they wanted to take him from us." "How, save with sticks or stones? We have nothing else, as you know. But the Turks will try to put it on us, no doubt. Come along to the Government House, and let us see what happens." As they reached the place, Barkev exclaimed, "Djanum! there is Dr. Melkon, of all men, in the hands of the zaptiehs. What can _he_ have done?" "Not arrested as a criminal, I hope, but called in as a doctor," said Jack, as they came up. If so, the wounded Turk was beyond his skill. They heard those around him saying he was dead. At the same time Melkon's voice reached their ears. He could do no good now, he pleaded, entreating the Turks to let him go about his business, which was urgent. He had a serious case to attend to--a Mussulman Effendi. No; he must stay, and certify to the cause of death. Barkev and Jack followed the crowd, which streamed into the Government House--an open court, where they could see all that passed. They saw the body laid on a divan, and they saw Melkon approach to examine it. The Turkish officer stood beside him, a drawn sword in his hand. "This man has been killed by the blows of sticks or bludgeons," he said, in a loud voice. Melkon stooped over the body; the officer stooped also, and whispered something in his ear. Almost instantly Melkon stood up, his face pale as that of the dead man who lay before them. For once the noisy, chattering Eastern crowd kept a profound silence. Melkon's low, firm voice reached every ear,-- "This man has died of wounds inflicted by the bayonet." "No case against us," Barkev said. But Melkon had sealed his own death warrant, and he knew it. For one moment he faced the crowd-- "I can die, but I cannot lie," he said. His voice was drowned in a howl of execration, and a dozen furious hands laid hold on him at once. "To the rescue!" cried Jack and Barkev together, dashing in amongst the throng.