With him came a little interpreter, with bent shoulders, a greasy face, and an absurdly long nose. Here, I thought, is a possible intermediary; and I asked him to return later. During the afternoon he entered softly and announced: "I am George, interpreter of English. I am friend of English, honest to God." George was a native of Beyrout, part Syrian, part Greek, part Jew, and wholly scoundrel. Were I writing fiction I should call him a Syro-Phoenician, which is an impressive term but means nothing; but as George really happened, I can only describe him as a Levantine mongrel. Some time or other in his chequered life he spent three months in America, where he learned to say "Honest to God" quite well, and to speak a queer jargon of Anglo-American quite badly. By reason of this accomplishment he became interpreter of English at Baranki Barracks. However, since he spoke French much better than he tried to speak English, conversation with him was possible. He had the Levantine habit of using "_mon cher_" in every alternate sentence when speaking French; and this he applied to his English by saying "my dear" on the least provocation. M., who could not speak French, asked him to smuggle a letter to the Spanish consul. "My dear," he replied, "I take it with lots of happiness. My officer shall not know the letter, I guess." The Spanish consul replied by return, and next day we were each presented with twenty Turkish pounds--about sixty dollars at the then rate of exchange. This rather annoyed the Turkish commandant, who had himself given us seven Turkish pounds each, being our first month's pay as captive officers. With four hundred dollars between us we were now in a much better position to prepare a scheme of escape. I decided to plumb the depths of George's "I am a friend of English, honest to God." We should have to take him with us, if possible, for if we left him behind he would be suspected and the Turks might frighten him into betraying us. An opportunity came that same evening. George had been telling of the starvation in Damascus, of the deaths from destitution all over Syria, of the hangings without trial, of the general discontent, of the terrible conditions of his own imprisonment for sixty days, because he had been suspected of spying for the King of the Hedjaz. "Wouldn't you like," said M., "to be away from this nightmare of a life and in a peaceful country like Egypt?" "I guess yes, my dear," said George. "But I desire to quit the East and live among English." "Well," said C., "I could find you a comfortable job in Australia." "Very obliged. I take your address and write when war shall finish." "That's no good. None of us may be alive when the war is over. How would you like to take the job now?" "What can you desire to say, my dear?" There was an awkward pause. We were shy of carrying the matter further; for chance-met Levantines, like politicians, do not as a rule inspire confidence.