At last I was taken into an ornate room, where I had my first talk with this redoubtable individual, who was popularly supposed to be the hangman of the Young Turks. Anyone less like an executioner I have never seen. He was plump, well-dressed, with humorous grey eyes. He wore long, rather well-fitting boots, and smoked his cigarettes from a long amber holder. He also had a long amber moustache, which was being trained Kaiser-wise. I stood before him at attention. "About this forged passport," he began--"do gentlemen in your country forge each other's signatures?" "It is not usual," I admitted. "Then you, as an English gentleman, surely did not counterfeit my writing?" "Oh no! I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing." "Then how do you account for this passport being in your possession?" I remained silent. "Who forged it?" he insisted. "May I look?" said I. "Is that really your signature?" "It is indeed. With it you could easily have got out of the country." "What an idiot I was not to use it!" I said with quite unfeigned annoyance. "You were!" he laughed--"they would have passed you straight through the Customs on seeing this." I felt very faint at this moment, and staggered against the table. But I recovered after an instant. I quite forget his next few remarks, but I know that I committed myself to a story that I had bought the passport from a man in a restaurant whom I could not now recognise. "But where have you been living all these weeks?" he asked. "I was living in the ruins near the Fatih mosque," I said glibly--"and I used to lunch and dine at various cafes in the city, a different one every day. It was in one of these places that I bought the passport." Djevad Bey considered this statement for a moment. There was a nasty look in his eye when he spoke again. "I shall never rest until I know who it is who can forge my signature so well," he said--"and until I know, I am afraid you will be very uncomfortable, for by law you are in the position of a common malefactor." "By law I am in the position of a prisoner of war," I answered--"and as such, I am liable to a fortnight's simple imprisonment, for attempting to escape. The Turkish Government signed this agreement only a few months ago with the British representatives at Berne." "A man who forges another's name is not an officer, but a forger," he said meaningly. "Say what you like, and do what you like," I answered--"I am in your power. But one thing I ask, and that is, that if you punish me, you should liberate the innocent Theodore and his family. True, we were found in their house, but----" "I cannot believe what you say," said Djevad Bey thoughtfully. There was a pause. Then: "Come, as man to man, won't you tell me who forged that passport?" "You have just called me a liar," said I. "That ends the matter." And with an all-is-over-between-us air I left the room, feeling dizzy and uncomfortable.