Cecil heard this news with dismay. It seemed to her that everything depended upon her being at Baghdad, in case Charlie really carried out his foolhardy plan, for if she saw him she might succeed in turning him back at the threshold of his adventure. But Lady Haigh, who knew that the last two summers in Baghdad had tried her very much, was delighted that this one should be passed in the cooler atmosphere of the Kurdish uplands, and commended the Pasha’s wisdom. Cecil said nothing to her of the reason she had for wishing to remain in the city. On the one side was the possibility of endangering Charlie by attracting attention to him should he really enter the country; on the other, the fear of lowering him in Sir Dugald’s eyes by revealing the foolishness to which the Balio Bey would grant no quarter. In spite of his kindness, Cecil resented extremely the contemptuous light in which Sir Dugald continued to regard Charlie, and she was resolved not to give him the chance of thinking him more reckless than he was, in case he decided to forego his scheme. “I suppose it isn’t possible for a European traveller to come into the pashalik without your knowing it?” she said to Sir Dugald the evening before her departure, with a desire to make everything sure. “Scarcely,” said Sir Dugald. “They seem invariably to begin their wanderings by getting into trouble with the Turks, and then they write to me to help them out. No vice-consul will do for them, however near at hand--it must be the Consul-General or no one.” “But suppose they didn’t wish to make themselves prominent, and managed not to get into trouble--in fact, came into the country quite quietly, and did their best to remain unnoticed?” “Then I should hear of them rather sooner than in the other case,” said Sir Dugald. “English travellers who didn’t bluster or bully the natives would be such a phenomenon that both the Pasha and I should be simply inundated with full, true, and particular accounts of them. It would be evident to the Turkish mind that they were come for no good, and were probably either spies or on the look-out for hidden treasures.” “But if they were in disguise?” suggested Cecil, bringing forward reluctantly her true fear. Sir Dugald laughed heartily. “That would be the quickest thing of all,” he said. “An Englishman trying to pass for a native would be spotted immediately. I have known of several cases, and the people take a perverse delight in finding them out. In fact, it’s an infallible means of proclaiming your nationality and attracting attention to pretend to be an oriental. If a man is such a fool as to try it, every person he meets becomes a spy on him at once. It’s natural, of course, for they are afraid he might try to profane their holy places.” “And if you heard of any one who was trying to pass as a native, what would you do?” asked Cecil.