I had my farewell interview with Enver and Talaat on January 13th. Both men were in their most delightful mood. Evidently both were turning over in their minds, as was I, all the momentous events that had taken place in Turkey and in the world since my first meeting with them two years before. Then Talaat and Enver were merely desperate adventurers who had reached high position by assassination and intrigue. Their position was insecure, for at any moment another revolution might plunge them into the obscurity from which they had sprung. But now they were the unquestioned despots of the Ottoman Empire, the allies of the then strongest military power in the world, and the conquerors--at least, they so regarded themselves--of the British Navy. At this moment of their great triumph--the Allied expedition to the Dardanelles had evacuated their positions only two weeks before--both Talaat and Enver regarded their country again as a world power. “I hear you are going home to spend a lot of money and re-elect your President,” said Talaat--this being a jocular reference to the fact that I was the Chairman of the Finance Committee of the Democratic National Committee. “That’s very foolish; why don’t you stay here and give it to Turkey? We need it more than your people do. “But we hope you are coming back soon,” he added. “We feel almost as though you were one of us. You and we have really grown up together; you came here about the same time that we took office and we don’t know how we could ever get so well acquainted with another man. We have grown fond of you, too. We have had our differences, and pretty lively ones at times, but we have always found you fair, and we respect American policy in Turkey as you have represented it. We don’t like to see you go, even for a few months.” I expressed my pleasure at these words. “It’s very nice to hear you talk that way,” I answered. “Since you flatter me so much, I know that you will be willing to promise me certain things. Since I have you both here together, this is my chance to put you on record. Will you treat the people in my charge considerately, just the same as though I were here?” “As to the American missionaries and colleges and schools,” said Talaat, and Enver assented, “we give you an absolute promise. They will not be molested in the slightest degree, but can go on doing their work just the same as before. Your mind can rest easily on that score.” “How about the British and French?” I asked. “Oh, well,” said Talaat, smiling, “we may have to have a little fun with them now and then, but don’t worry. We’ll take good care of them.” And now for the last time I spoke on the subject that had rested so heavily on my mind for many months. I feared that another appeal would be useless, but I decided to make it. “How about the Armenians?” Talaat’s geniality disappeared in an instant. His face hardened, and the fire of the beast lighted up his eyes once more.