All this time I was on the ledge outside our house hiding, with Greeks and others peering towards me out of windows not eight feet away. One was smoking and washing up. I thanked Heaven it was dark. Once she called out asking if any one was outside. I could almost have reached her with a stick. The posta had cut off my retreat by going upstairs, but it appeared he did not know I was outside. I felt greatly amused at our sentry with fixed bayonet mounting guard on the stairs, his prisoner being a few feet away outside the house beyond the door, which I had shut after me. I heard my friends trying to get the posta downstairs. When his steps sounded as going downstairs I threw some small bits of clay towards Castell to show him where we were. He looked round helplessly. I dropped some just over our corner. It made a loud sound. Still he did not understand. Then I threw a large lump and hit him. He skipped like a jackal and took to his heels with a terrific clatter. Although it was annoying the whole show was so funny that I almost overbalanced with laughter. I went after him down the rope and found postas and sentries wandering about us in all directions, but our friends had gone. Sentries being on all the streets and on the _qui vive_, I returned up the rope and sent my orderly to the bazaar. There he found Doust. They said they had only come to tell us that the boat had been smashed on the rocks near Psamatia and had also fouled the Galata Bridge. But we were to start next night and walk to Galata, risking the German police and so on. This was Christmas Eve which we now proceeded to celebrate, and determined to start next day. The other officers bearded the commandant's cat, a satanic beast that had stolen our food often. It combined all the cunning and resourcefulness of a dozen cats. It broke several windows and went for several of us before we despatched it. As a matter of fact, I deprecated all this as it meant renewed guards.