“We talked very pleasantly all dinner-time,” Charlie went on, “but at the end some one--I think it was Vogorides, but I can’t be sure--started the subject of Armenia. We were all friends, of course, but it struck me even then as rather a risky thing to do among such excitable people. You know that there’s no holding Armenians if you once get them on that subject, and one after another told stories of the most awful atrocities I ever heard. They made my blood run cold. I can’t conceive how people who believe that such things have happened, and many of them to relations of their own, can ever speak civilly to a Turk again, or bear to be anywhere near him, except rifle in hand, and I said something of the kind. It seemed to set them off, for they all stood up and drank the toast of ‘Free Armenia!’ solemnly.” “And you drank it too? Oh, Charlie!” said Cecil, anxiously. “That wasn’t all,” said Charlie, determined to free his conscience completely, “for I said afterwards that I was sure if they ever did rise, English people would help them with arms and men and money, just as we did the Greeks in the War of Independence.” “Oh, Charlie!” groaned Cecil again, “how could you?” “I don’t know. I was carried out of myself, I suppose. Well, in some way or other, I can’t imagine how, the thing has got to Sir Dugald’s ears. He sent for me last night, and gave me such a wigging! Of course I was a fool to say what I did, but he makes out that if the thing got known I should have to leave Baghdad at once. He said it was an unpardonable breach of diplomatic etiquette, an indiscretion he should have considered impossible. He said I ought to consider you, too, and not go imperilling my life and my prospects in the way I did. He also said a good deal more--in fact, I got it pretty hot.” “But what did he mean about imperilling your life?” asked Cecil, quickly. “Oh, I didn’t mean to say that, but perhaps after all you had better hear it from me; you won’t be so much frightened. It may not have anything to do with it at all, but yesterday, when I was out riding with Rossiter on the other side of the river, a fellow potted at me with a long gun. It may have been only that he wanted something to shoot at, but the people round here do seem to have rather a prejudice against me just now. Anyhow, he missed, and we gave chase, but he got away.” “But who can have told Sir Dugald about the Farajians’ dinner-party?” asked Cecil. “The servants?” “There were none in the room at the time. No, he absolutely declined to tell me--said it was enough for me that he knew. I don’t know who it could be.” “It may have been M. Vogorides,” mused Cecil. “Charlie, have you ever made an enemy of him or of M. Karalampi?” “Would you have me make a friend of either of them?” he inquired. “Well, there is a kind of distant civility you might employ towards them.”