“I insist upon hearing what she has told you,” said Cecil, standing her ground, although the affectionate epithet from the lips of the sedate Syrian woman thrilled her with alarm. “She say, mademoiselle,” said Um Yusuf, unwillingly, “that those two Armenians from Hillah were with Pasha’s caravan in the mountains, and Kurds carry them off.” “Is this true?” demanded Cecil of Latifeh Kalfa. “I heard it from my husband, who was with the rearguard, O my lady,” replied the woman; “and more than that, I can testify that though I had often seen them before, yet they disappeared altogether from that time.” “But was it Kurds, not Yezidis?” asked Cecil. “Kurds, O my lady,” purred the woman. She had a soft, smooth voice, and a way of fastening her eyes sleepily on the person she addressed. Cecil, standing for a moment overwhelmed, felt an unreasoning hatred spring up in her heart against her. It was only for the first instant that the disaster crushed her, however, and she sought immediate relief in action. “I want you to come out with me, Um Yusuf,” she said. “But, mademoiselle, Masûd not here. You not go without him?” “Yes, I can’t wait.” “But they kill us, mademoiselle.” “Then stay behind and I will go alone. Don’t you see that there is not a moment to lose?” “If I perish, I perish,” was Um Yusuf’s mental utterance as she wrapped her sheet round her and followed her mistress without another word. She would face all the Kurds in Kurdistan rather than let mademoiselle go out by herself. “Where you going, mademoiselle?” she asked, as they approached the gate. “To the little Christian village down in the valley,” responded Cecil, steadily. “The priest there will help us. He can speak English.” “What! Kasha Thoma?” asked Um Yusuf. “Oh yes, he good man, been with Melican missionaries at Beyrout. But what you say to him, mademoiselle?” “I shall ask him to send off a trustworthy messenger at once to Baghdad, to tell the Balio Bey what we have heard. If the Pasha were here, I would go straight to [*** missing text. See Transcriber’s Notes.] “What you ’fraid of, mademoiselle?” inquired Um Yusuf. “That the Kurds may carry Dr Egerton away into the mountains, or take him to Persia, and perhaps treat him badly,” said Cecil.