At these words Halil drew forth from his girdle a dagger which he had secreted there, and hurled it with such force at Pelivan that the sharp point pierced his left shoulder. But the next moment he was felled to the ground by a mortal blow. While still on his knees he raised his eyes to Heaven and said: "It is the will of Allah." At another blow he collapsed, and falling prone breathed forth his last sigh: "I die, but my son is still alive." And he died. Then all his associates were brought into the Sofa Chamber one by one from the Erivan kiosk where they had been robed in splendid kaftans, and as they entered the room were decapitated one after the other. They had not even time to shut their eyes before the fatal stroke descended. Six-and-twenty of them perished there and then. Only three survived the day, Sulali, Mohammed the dervish, and Alir Aalem, the custodian of the sacred banner and justiciary of Stambul. All three were Ulemas, and therefore not even the Sultan was free to slay them. Accordingly the Grand Vizier appointed them all Sandjak-Begs, or governors of provinces. As they knew nothing of the death of their comrades they accepted the dignities conferred upon them, renouncing at the same time as usual their office of Ulemas. The following day they were all put to death. On the third day after that the people of the city in their walks abroad saw eight-and-thirty severed heads stuck on the ends of spears over the central gate of the Seraglio. All these heads, with their starting eyes and widely parted lips, seemed to be speaking to the amazed multitudes; only Halil Patrona's eyes were closed and his lips sealed. Suddenly a great cry of woe arose from one end of the city to the other, the people seized their arms and rushed off to the Etmeidan under three banners. They had no other leader now but Janaki, all the rest had escaped or were dead. So now they brought _him_ forward. The tidings of Halil's death wrought no change in him, he had foreseen it long before, and was well aware that Guel-Bejaze had departed from the capital. He had himself prepared for her the little dwelling in the valley lost among the ravines of Mount Taurus, which was scarce known to any save to him and the few dwellers there, and he had brought back with him from thence a pair of carrier-pigeons, so that in case of necessity he might be able to send messages to his daughter without having to depend on human agency. When the clamorous mob invited him to the Etmeidan he wrote to his daughter on a tiny shred of vellum, and tied the letter beneath the wing of the pigeon. And this is what he wrote: "God's grace be with thee! Wait not for Halil, he is dead. The Janissaries have killed him. And I shall not be long after him, take my word for it. But live thou and watch over thy child.--JANAKI."