“That is fair,” answered Enver. He said that Bedri, who was in the building at that moment, would select the “victims.” This caused me some uneasiness. I knew that Enver’s modification of his order would displease Bedri, whose hatred of the foreigners had shown itself on many occasions, and that the head of the police would do his best to find some way of evading it. So I asked Enver to send for Bedri and give him his new orders in my presence. Bedri came in, and, as I had suspected, he did not like the new arrangement at all. As soon as he heard that he was to take only fifty, and the youngest, he threw up his hands and began to walk up and down the room. “No, no, this will never do!” he said. “I don’t want the youngest; I must have the notables!” But Enver stuck to the arrangement and gave Bedri orders to take only the youngest men. It was quite apparent that Bedri needed humouring, so I asked him to ride with me to the American Embassy, where we would have tea and arrange all the details. This invitation had an instantaneous effect which the American mind will have difficulty in comprehending. An American would regard it as nothing wonderful to be seen publicly riding with an Ambassador, or to take tea at an Embassy. But this is a distinction which never comes to a minor functionary, such as a Prefect of Police, in the Turkish capital. Possibly I lowered the dignity of my office in extending this invitation to Bedri--Pallavicini would probably have thought so--but it certainly paid, for it made Bedri more pliable than he would otherwise have been. When we reached the Embassy we found the crowds still there, awaiting the results of my intercession. When I told the besiegers that only fifty had to go, and these the youngest, they seemed momentarily stupefied. They could not understand it at first; they believed that I might obtain some modification of the order, but nothing like this. Then, as the truth dawned upon them, I found myself in the centre of a crowd that had apparently gone momentarily insane, this time not from grief, but from joy. Women, the tears streaming down their faces, insisted on throwing themselves on their knees, seizing both my hands, and covering them with kisses. Mature men, despite my violent protestations, persisted in hugging me and kissing me on both cheeks. For several minutes I struggled with this crowd, embarrassed by its demonstrations of gratitude, but finally I succeeded in breaking away and secreting myself and Bedri in an inner room. “Can’t I have a few notables?” he asked. “I’ll give you just one,” I replied. “Can’t I have three?” he asked again. “You can have all who are under fifty,” I answered.