This change in public opinion perplexed Charlie extremely. At first he attributed it to another outburst of anti-English feeling, but this theory was dispelled on his learning from Captain Rossiter that no unpleasantness was displayed towards him. Then he set it down to some temporary crank or fancy of the people’s, and thought little more about it until, when he went one evening to call on Isaac Azevedo, the old man told him plainly, though with many apologies, that his visits were a source of danger to the whole Jewish quarter, and asked him not to come again for the present. It was this which first opened his eyes to the possibility of the approach of something more than mere unpleasantness, but it was not really brought home to him until one day when he had been to tea at the Mission-house, and Dr Yehudi took him aside at parting, and asked him earnestly whether he still carried a revolver, and whether it was ready for use. The danger of the situation became clear to him then, and it was just about the same time that M. Karalampi decided that matters were ripe for the completion of his plan. Of the steps which led to this end Cecil saw only the last, and she was made aware of it one Sunday, when she arrived at the Residency to find Charlie looking out for her, with a doleful and even shame-stricken visage. She cast uneasy glances at him every now and then during the morning, but the gloom did not lift, and she waited anxiously for the quiet afternoon-time when they were wont to exchange their confidences. As soon as they were together in a shady corner of the deserted drawing-room Charlie told his story. “I’ve been an awful fool, Cecil, and got myself into a nice mess.” “Charlie! What do you mean?” “It’s perfectly true. You know that I was to dine at the Farajians’ on Friday night? They are awfully nice people, and Farajian’s brother Ephrem was to be there,--the man who has been travelling in the mountains and looking for ruined cities. He was educated by some American missionaries somewhere, and he has picked up an amazing knowledge of antiquities. Well, I went, and found that all the guests were Armenians except myself and Stavro Vogorides, that Greek fellow who hangs about at the Russian Consulate.” “I know. I have seen him with M. Karalampi,” said Cecil.