Right and left from the houses in the street came cries and screams, and now and then a woman, with her clothes perhaps half torn off her, would steal out like a cat, and seeing Nicholas, either steal back again or run from him. After each of these, he shouted some sentence in Greek, but got no response. Once a child ran up to him, howling with tears and pain, and showed him a horrible gash in its arm, wantonly inflicted by one of his countrymen, babbling to him in Turkish that it could not find its mother. Then Nicholas, despite his fierce vows to have no pity on man, woman, or child for the wrong that had been done to him and his by that pitiless race, waited ten minutes to bind up the wound, and--for what else could he do--bade the child get out of the town, for its mother was outside. On his way he passed several Greek soldiers, one dragging a woman after him, another with his hands full of a pile of gold and silver, the smaller pieces of which dropped through his fingers as he walked. Nicholas inquired where the Mainats were, and was told he would find a number of them at a big square house on the slope up to the citadel gate, which they had just entered. Fighting seemed to be going on in an upper story, and even as he approached a group of men, Turks and Greeks mixed, appeared on the house-top. Next moment two who were struggling together toppled and fell against the thin railing which lined the roof; it broke under their weight, and both men, still clutching at each other's throats, fell toppling over into the street with a horrid crash and sound of breaking. The Turk was living and moved feebly, but the head of the Mainat was smashed like an egg. At that moment Yanni appeared at the door of the house, his face flushed, and the fire of fighting hot upon him. "You here?" he cried to Nicholas. "We thought you must be dead. Oh, how wild Mitsos will be when he finds that he has been out of it!" "It is of Mitsos, too, I am thinking," said Nicholas. "Oh, Yanni, come and help me; there are butchers enough. Help me to find her." Yanni stared at him a moment before he understood. "Suleima," he cried, "God forgive us all! She in this town, and I had forgotten, and the Mavromichales are gone mad! If she is there--oh," and he threw down his knife, and looked stupid-like at his hands which were red and caked with blood and dust. "Come and search for her, Yanni," said Nicholas again; "she is not in the house of Abdul, and every moment that she is in the streets may be her last." "She left the house! Are you sure?" asked Yanni. "Where is it? Let us run there." "I have been already," said Nicholas. "See, Yanni, you go one way and I another, and we will meet here again in an hour. Speak in Greek to every woman you see." "Yes, yes," said Yanni; "which way shall I go? Oh, Mitsos, poor little Mitsos, and I killed two women myself, for they had knives and tried to stab me."