“Does not this panoramic spectacle of the Orient arouse within your innermost depths unspeakable emotions, both ecstatic and execrable, Professor Gunn?” asked the lady from Boston. “As you gaze on these shores can you not feel your quivering inner self writhing with the shocking realization of the innumerable excruciating horrors which have stained the shuddering years during which the power of the Turk has been supreme in this sanguine land? Do you not hear within the citadel of your soul a clarion call to duty? “Are you not oppressed by an intense and all-controlling yearning to do something for the poor, downtrodden Armenians who have been mercilessly ground beneath the iron heel of these heartless hordes of the sultan? I know you do! I have seen it in your countenance, molded by noble and lofty thoughts and towering and exalted ambitions, which lift you to sublime heights far above the swarming multitudes of common earthy clay. Have I not stated your attitude on this stupendous subject to the infinitesimal fraction of a mathematical certainty, professor?” “Indeed you have, Miss Ketchum!” exclaimed Zenas. “Oh, wow!” gasped Buckhart, leaning weakly on the rail. “Did you hear that flow of hot air, Dick?” “I did,” said Dick, concealing a smile behind his hand. “That sort of Bostonese has carried the old boy off his feet. Brad, the professor has lost his head over the lady from Boston, and it is up to you and me to rescue him from the peril that threatens him. He is in danger, and we must not falter.” The steamer was swinging in to her mooring, but Professor Gunn was now too absorbed in Miss Ketchum and her talk to tell the boys anything about the two cities, that of the “Infidel” and that of the “Faithful,” which lay before them. A man with a decidedly Oriental cast of countenance, but who wore English-made clothes, paused near the professor and Miss Ketchum, seemingly watching the boats which were swarming off to the steamer. “Look, pard,” whispered Buckhart. “There’s the inquisitive gent who has bothered us so much—the one we found in our stateroom one day. He’s listening now to the professor and the Boston woman. I’ll bet my life on it.” “I see him,” said Dick, yet without turning his head. “Brad, the man is spying on us.” “I certain reckon so, and I’m a whole lot sorry we let him off without thumping him up when we found him in our stateroom.” “He protested that he got in there by accident.” “And lied like the Turk that he is!” muttered the Texan. “I’d give a whole bunch of steers to know what his name is.” “He’s up to something. I found his name on the list of passengers.” “What is it?” “Aziz Achmet.” “I knew he was an onery full-blooded Turk. His cognomen proves it.” “He’s a subject of the sultan, beyond question. Something tells me we are going to have trouble with that man.”