Azim Bey nodded. M. Karalampi went on, watching his face keenly. “The Kurds would suit your purpose much better, Bey Effendi. They have hiding-places and strongholds in the hills which the Padishah’s whole army could not discover, and they do not love Christians. They might be relied upon to keep Dr Egerton so safely that even the Balio Bey should never hear of him.” “That is what I want,” cried Azim Bey, eagerly. “Let him disappear, and not be heard of until he is wanted, which will not be for a very long time.” “And you do not wish to make any stipulation as to the treatment he is to receive, Bey Effendi? The Kurds may make a slave of him if they like?” “Anything, so long as they keep him safely,” said Azim Bey. M. Karalampi went away well pleased. The news he had just heard, and his conversation with Azim Bey, had opened up vistas of endless possibilities of revenge on several of the people against whom he cherished grudges, besides affording a prospect of gratifying the wishes of the Um-ul-Pasha and Jamileh Khanum. As for Azim Bey, he returned to his governess with a quiet mind. He had put matters in train, and left them in the charge of a safe person, and was able to enjoy the spectacle of Cecil’s anxiety. In all the bustle of starting on their further journey, her mind was occupied with other matters than boxes and bundles. She could not rid herself of the haunting impression of Charlie’s fatal imprudence. How could he risk death in this way just for the sake of seeing her? It was foolish, it was criminal. If only she could have some assurance that he was safely on his way to Baghdad before Azim Bey’s suspicions were roused! What was to be done? Could she send Um Yusuf out to make inquiries about him, and to warn him, if he were still in Hillah, to leave at once? No; such a step could only serve to awaken suspicion. There was nothing to be done but to try and let everything take its usual course. In this belief, she nerved herself to give due attention to her packing, and at last to don her blue wrapper and mount her mule, although she felt as though she could not leave the place while Charlie might still be in it. The appearance of an Armenian, as they passed through the town, made her start and tremble, but nowhere did her eyes light upon the face which was now so strange and yet so familiar. She did her best to assure herself that this showed that Charlie had safely departed, never guessing that among the miscellaneous throng that closed the Pasha’s long procession were the two Armenians from Julfa with their mules and their packs, watched closely by little Ishak.