ACO 9528
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN
 
 i
 
 The Grasp of the 
 Sultan 
 
 ' 
 
 M Illustrations by 
 W.T.Benda 
 
 6 
 
 hou>n 
 
 * \ 
 
 Boston and New York 
 
 Houghton Mifflin Company 
 
 (t&e fliter^i&e j&rei^ Cambridge 
 
 1916
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1915 AND I 9 l6, BY THE BUTTERICK PUBLISHING COMPANT 
 COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY HOUGHTON M1FFLIN COMPANY 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 Published Junt H)lb
 
 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I. THE MAN FROM THE GUTTER ... I 
 
 II. BAYAZET'S MOTHER 15 
 
 III. ADAMS HEARS A SOB 29 
 
 IV. "THE SPIRIT OF THE HURRICANE" . 43 
 V. THE TUTOR'S FIRST DAYS .... $6 
 
 VI. THE GREAT MAGICIAN OF STAMBOUL 73 
 VII. "YOUNG, AND ALONE, AND DEFENSE- 
 LESS" 86 
 
 VIII. MANLOVE PASHA WONDERS .... 97 
 
 IX. THE DREAMS OF KIZATESH SULTANA IIO 
 
 X. ON BOARD THE SHIMSHEK . . . .124 
 
 XI. THE PACT 137 
 
 XII. KIPRULI ALI 151 
 
 XIII. "WHO AMI? OH, I'MONLY " . . 169 
 
 XIV. A NIGHT ON THE RAMPARTS . . .187 
 XV. MOTHER AND SON 197 
 
 XVI. THE PRICE OF A WOMAN 213 
 
 XVII. FATHER AND SON 231 
 
 XVIII. THE SHAME OF AN EAGLET .... 239 
 
 XIX. "YANGIN!" 253 
 
 XX. IN THE THICK OF IT 275 
 
 XXI. "AT LEAST LET ME DIE LIKE A MAN" 286 
 XXII. IN THE NEVER-NEVER LAND . . .297
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Wrenched the child from the Englishman's arms 
 and tore out of the room (page 55) Frontispiece 
 
 " This will teach me to hate my master" . . .120 
 "// must be five, because I will it" . . . .210 
 As the father retreated the boy advanced . . . 244
 
 The Grasp of the Sultan 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE MAN FROM THE GUTTER 
 
 IT was a tiny coffee-house on a side street off 
 Kara-kuey, and not more than half an hour's 
 walk from the Bridge of Galata. It was made 
 of plain, unpainted boards, to which time and 
 smoke had given a coating of black. Its sole 
 ornament was a pergola, over which luxuriated 
 a grapevine, the hard, green fruit hanging down 
 into space. The pergola extended over the 
 whole sidewalk, obviously meant for pedes- 
 trians; but the cafedji was a Turk, and ignored 
 the rights of pedestrians. He appropriated the 
 sidewalk with the same air of ownership as did 
 the shadow of his grapevine. A dozen low, rus- 
 tic stools filled the sidewalk, for the convenience 
 of the patrons of the coffee-house, and to the 
 inconvenience of all others, who on muddy days 
 were forced to go out into the mud, ankle-deep. 
 
 I
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 No one complained. People in Turkey rarely 
 do. Besides, the patrons of the coffee-house 
 were the formidable carriers of Constantinople. 
 Thus, no one interfered, and the cafedji and his 
 grapevine spread themselves unhampered over 
 the sidewalk. 
 
 It was the midday hour, the hour in which 
 the little cafe was most busy in extending its 
 hospitality. All the stools were taken. The 
 ample bloomers of the carriers overfilled the 
 straw seats. The long, many-colored stockings, 
 the bright kerchiefs twined around the red 
 fezes, and the gold and silver thread with which 
 the carriers' short jabots were embroidered 
 made the portion of the sidewalk underneath 
 the pergola very picturesque and very Oriental. 
 They are fastidious and dandified, these giants 
 from Anatolia, who wear their clothes with such 
 a debonair grace, and always have love exploits 
 to relate to one another. 
 
 Just now, at the midday hour, they were at 
 their ease. No power and no sum of money 
 could make them work between twelve and two. 
 Some were eating their luncheon of half a loaf of 
 bread, garnished with sliced onions, tomatoes, 
 
 2
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 and oil, with abundant salt and pepper. Others, 
 having done with eating, were smoking their 
 narghiles in a contemplative manner; while still 
 others were playing at backgammon. In the 
 street, upward of twenty dogs were lying con- 
 tentedly, their heads buried in their front paws, 
 fast asleep. Men and dogs made a perfect pic- 
 ture of life at its quietest and most peaceful 
 innocent of any rude feelings. 
 
 Down the road came a shabbily dressed 
 young Englishman. The scene evidently ap- 
 pealed to him; for he stopped a few yards away 
 to contemplate it. Presently one of the carriers, 
 an Armenian, reached up, took a grape, and, 
 with careful aim, threw it at the head of a dog. 
 
 The animal raised his head, looked about 
 him, and then fell back into his former position. 
 The Armenian laughed. His co-religionists 
 sitting around him for each religion in Tur- 
 key naturally congregates by itself laughed 
 also. 
 
 The Armenian took another grape, and with 
 the same precision threw it at the same dog. 
 
 The dog raised his head again, gave a plain- 
 tive growl, and again lay down. The Armenians 
 
 3
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 laughed again, and the thrower reached for a 
 third grape. 
 
 "Let him alone!" said a Turkish carrier. 
 
 The Armenian paid no attention to the 
 words, but threw his grape as before. 
 
 "I told you to let him alone," repeated the 
 Turk. 
 
 "So you did," the Armenian assented, with 
 exaggerated deliberation reaching up for an- 
 other grape. 
 
 In other parts of the Turkish Empire an 
 Armenian would instantly have obeyed the 
 Turk; but here at Galata, where the strongest 
 of them congregated, they often stood up for 
 themselves. 
 
 "Well, I said, 'Let the dog alone,'" repeated 
 the Turk, the quiet contemplation gone from 
 his eyes. 
 
 All the carriers became attentive. Those who 
 were still eating gulped down their food; those 
 who were smoking took the markoutches out of 
 their mouths ; and those who were playing back- 
 gammon stopped with the dice in their fingers. 
 
 The Armenian, for answer, reached for an- 
 other grape. He had not time to pluck it. With 
 
 4
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 a swift movement, the Turk snatched up the 
 stool he was sitting on, and threw it at the head 
 of the Armenian, with the same precision which 
 had characterized the latter. 
 
 The scene changed. 
 
 All the men were on their feet and all the 
 dogs, too. 
 
 The peaceful street was a battlefield. 
 
 The Armenians sprang to the left the 
 Turks to the right. They faced one another 
 man to man. There were some Turks left 
 over, and they remained under the pergola, 
 watching. 
 
 Each man fought his man alone, and the dogs 
 were spontaneously fighting among themselves 
 and among the legs of the men. One of the 
 most wonderful sights of Constantinople is a 
 fight among the carriers. It is as superb as it is 
 rare. These giants, who think nothing of carry- 
 ing a piano on their backs, practice wrestling 
 and boxing every day, and when they come to a 
 real fight, they bring to it the same tactics and 
 the same skill that they bring to their games, 
 nor do they ever resort to unfair methods. 
 
 The shabby young Englishman was fasci- 
 5
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 nated by the spectacle of sheer physical mag- 
 nificence before him. Lithe and alert, he stood 
 tense as an umpire at a football game, absorbed 
 in watching the contestants in this well-organ- 
 ized battle. So intent was he that he did not 
 notice the approach of an older Englishman, 
 dressed in Turkish naval attire, his breast cov- 
 ered with medals. The latter glanced from the 
 fighting carriers to his shabby young country- 
 man, and something in the lean, clean-cut face 
 carried the older man far away into the past 
 a remote past, but one which had helped to 
 carve his present; for the face of the young man 
 was the face of the woman who had preferred 
 another to him, and because of her Arthur Man- 
 love had left the navy and his country, had 
 roamed around the earth, and had ended by 
 becoming a Turkish admiral. 
 
 The fight came to an end, the Armenians 
 having got the better of the Turks, one of 
 whom was left lying on the ground, evidently 
 badly injured. The young Englishman stepped 
 quickly to the side of the prostrate man, and 
 with deft fingers began to examine his hurt. 
 Ignorant of the language, he instinctively 
 
 6
 
 looked about for an interpreter, and found his 
 fellow countryman at his side. 
 
 "I say, can you tell them to get a bandage, 
 and some sort of antiseptic?" he asked. "If 
 they can, I can fix him up. I Ve done quite a bit 
 of amateur doctoring, first and last." 
 
 Manlove did as he was requested, and in a 
 few minutes the patient was skillfully band- 
 aged, and seemed little the worse for his 
 encounter. 
 
 "That was a ripping fight," the young Eng- 
 lishman said. "Will you tell these chaps I never 
 saw anything finer in my life?" 
 
 The carriers were childishly pleased with 
 the stranger's praises, and the wounded man 
 begged his excellency to tell the young English- 
 man that he had nothing with which to repay 
 him except his two arms ; but if he ever needed 
 them, his, Kipruli Ali's, were at his service. 
 
 "You had better write that name down," 
 counseled Manlove Pasha. "It's a great piece 
 of luck, and not to be despised, if you intend to 
 stay here any length of time." 
 
 The younger Englishman drew from the 
 pocket of his shabby suit an old notebook, and 
 
 7
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 wrote down, not only the name of the man, but 
 some directions by which he could find him. 
 The carriers, meanwhile, had ordered coffee and 
 sweetmeats, and begged the two foreigners to 
 do them the honor of partaking of them. The 
 bemedaled Englishman accepted the invitation 
 at once, and the other followed his example. 
 Having tasted the sweetmeats and drunk the 
 coffee, they rose and bade their hosts good-bye. 
 
 "May I go your way?" asked Manlove 
 Pasha of his young compatriot, as they left 
 the carriers. 
 
 " I don't know which way I am going," the 
 other replied. 
 
 "Pardon me if I seem intrusive," Manlove 
 Pasha persisted, "but though you do not know 
 me, I know you or, at least, I knew your 
 family, and I have known your mother very 
 well, indeed. From your resemblance to her, 
 you must be the son of Lady Eunice " 
 
 "Stop!" cried the younger man. "My name 
 is Burton Adams." 
 
 "It is immaterial to me what you call your- 
 self. But you are in a strange land, which is not 
 strange to me, and I offer you my hospitality. 
 
 8
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 My name is Arthur Manlove. Where are you 
 staying?" 
 
 "I landed to-day," the other answered 
 gruffly. 
 
 Arthur Manlove had not for many years seen 
 the woman for whose sake he had expatriated 
 himself, but he had kept in touch with her life, 
 and even after her death had taken an interest 
 in the three sons she had left. The two elder 
 had inherited the hard rectitude of their father : 
 between them and the youngest the image of 
 his mother there had never been sympathy. 
 After the mother's death there had been misun- 
 derstandings, quarrels, and, as a black sheep, 
 he had been turned adrift. Only recently Man- 
 love's sister had written him that Lionel was 
 supposed to have died somewhere in the Far 
 East. Yet here he now stood in the flesh. Man- 
 love Pasha had not the slightest doubt of his 
 identity the vehemence with which the 
 young man had stopped him before he finished 
 his mother's name was proof enough, if con- 
 firmation were needed. 
 
 Lionel Deguerney had, indeed, been a black 
 sheep. After the last quarrel with his father, he 
 
 9
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 had left his home, vowing never to reenter it; 
 and then, by easy gradations, he had landed in 
 the gutter. Fortunately for him, instead of be- 
 coming a part of it, its smell nauseated him and 
 brought him to his senses. His manliness and 
 his British doggedness awoke at the same time, 
 and he resolved to climb out of the gutter. It 
 did not take him long to discover the vast differ- 
 ence between sliding down and climbing up. In 
 fact, he soon realized that it was easier for those 
 to climb up who had never rolled down than for 
 those who had once been on the heights and had 
 acquired a bad name. Perhaps so much energy 
 is spent in rolling down that little is left for 
 climbing up again. Then he resolved at least to 
 walk on the clean roadway till chance offered 
 him an opportunity to rise again. At this time 
 he changed his name to Burton Adams. 
 
 Adams was surprised, almost resentful, that 
 this uniformed Englishman should have recog- 
 nized him. He had learned that rolling into the 
 gutter changes a man beyond the power of 
 recognition of many of his polite friends. 
 
 "If no other engagement claims you, dine 
 with me at Ghanni's," Manlove Pasha said. 
 
 10
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "You will find it easily on the Grande rue de 
 Pera." 
 
 Adams hesitated. From most of his one-time 
 friends he would have refused the invitation on 
 the spot; but Manlove's manner was so entirely 
 lacking in condescension that he felt an un- 
 wonted impulse to accept it. A surge of loneli- 
 ness swept over him, and an intolerable longing 
 for a few words with some one connected with 
 his former life. And then Manlove, he knew, 
 had been something of a rolling stone himself, 
 though he had always rolled on the level. 
 
 "My clothes " muttered Adams. 
 
 " Pooh ! They're good enough to consort with 
 this old uniform of mine. You'll come?" 
 
 Adams nodded and turned quickly away. 
 
 That evening Manlove gave him a good 
 dinner, with good wine and good cigars. He 
 treated him, not as a black sheep, but as if 
 Adams still held the position he once had held. 
 He asked no embarrassing questions. Only 
 over the excellent Turkish coffee, he inquired 
 casually : 
 
 "What are you doing now?" 
 
 It was so many months since the fallen 
 ii
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 gentleman had been decently treated that he 
 was touched. Before he knew it, he laid bare 
 his whole life to his new-found friend. 
 
 Manlove heard him out in sympathetic si- 
 lence. At the end he said : 
 
 "I may be able to help you a bit, if you will 
 let me." 
 
 There have been Englishmen in Turkey of 
 whom the world has known little, who have 
 had considerable to do with the shaping of the 
 destinies of that empire. One of these was 
 Arthur Manlove, to whom was due whatever 
 efficiency the navy of the Sultan possessed. For 
 the time being he was honored with a share of 
 that monarch's suspicious confidence. 
 
 "Would you like to be a kind of tutor to a 
 number of boys?" Manlove went on. 
 
 "I was two years at Oxford," Adams stam- 
 mered, "but I can't say I distinguished myself. 
 I never was much of a hand at books, you know. 
 What should I have to teach them?" 
 
 Manlove smiled. "Only plain English, and 
 some riding and driving." 
 
 Adams's face lighted. Horseflesh was some- 
 thing he understood. 
 
 12
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "They are Turkish boys," Manlove contin- 
 ued. He had been speaking in low tones; he 
 dropped his voice still lower as he went on: 
 "They are the Ottoman imperial princes, and 
 are virtual prisoners, you know. They ride and 
 drive within the precincts of the palace gar- 
 dens ; and the general scheme of their education 
 is to teach them as little as possible. How do 
 you think you would like the post?" 
 
 Englishmen are supposed to be stolid and 
 unemotional, but the man who chose to call 
 himself Burton Adams felt a tightness in his 
 throat as he said in a husky voice : 
 
 "You would be willing to answer for me?" 
 
 "I know the blood, and when it's fit, I'd 
 wager considerable on its running true. You 
 have been out of form for some time, but you 
 look as if you were coming around right, now." 
 Manlove held out his hand, rather as one 
 who seeks than as one who bestows a favor. 
 "Shall we shake hands on that?" he asked. 
 
 Burton Adams placed his calloused hand in 
 the well-kept hand of the other; and thus it 
 came to pass that the one-time younger son of 
 a noble house, and the later vagabond adrift, 
 
 13
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 presented himself at the palace for the position 
 of glorified groom and unglorified tutor to the 
 imperial household. 
 
 When Manlove took him there, Burton 
 Adams had little in common with the man who 
 had stood and watched the street brawl, only 
 a few days before. He had responded not so 
 much to good baths and good clothes as to the 
 trust a man of his class had placed in him. 
 
 The head eunuch received them and studied 
 the proposed tutor quite openly. Then he 
 nodded to Manlove. 
 
 The older Englishman touched the shoulder 
 of his friend. 
 
 "You have just passed the hardest examina- 
 tion you ever tried, old chap." Turning to the 
 powerful official, he added: "You will be good 
 to my friend, won't you, Lala Sheddin?" 
 
 The eunuch gave a broad grin. "It all de- 
 pends, your excellency," he answered. "And 
 now I will take charge of your friend. Good- 
 bye!" 
 
 "Good-bye!" said Manlove, and with a grip 
 of Adams's hand, he added: "Come to see me 
 when you are able to leave the palace."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 BAYAZET'S MOTHER 
 
 IN a sumptuous room of the imperial harem- 
 lik, in the Sultan's palace, a heap of silken 
 materials lay on a divan. In that heap was 
 Kizatesh Sultana, mother of Prince Bayazet. 
 She had lain thus for hours, ever since dawn, 
 ever since she had awakened and found the 
 nest of her little son empty her son who had 
 been taken away from her while she had been 
 asleep, by the command of his father, the Sul- 
 tan of Turkey. It was a barbarous act, and 
 the enormity of it left her stunned. Her sorrow 
 was dumb : it had crushed her. 
 
 Two young slaves suddenly entered the room, 
 prostrated themselves before their mistress, 
 and announced: "The Padishah!" 
 
 The heap of silken materials moved, and 
 from it rose and stood, trembling like a reed, 
 holding her face hidden in her hands, a small, 
 delicately built woman. 
 
 The Padishah entered, and the slaves,
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 crouching on their hands and knees, left the 
 room. 
 
 The Sultan of Turkey came near the woman. 
 "Well?" he asked. 
 
 He received no reply. 
 
 "How dost thou like thy empty arms?" 
 
 The woman remained silent. 
 
 "Dost thou understand that Bayazet, thy 
 son, has been taken away from thee for- 
 ever?" 
 
 The delicate frame shook a little more, but 
 the woman remained silent, her face always 
 hidden in the small, white hands. 
 
 "Thou knowest that thou canst have Baya- 
 zet back, if thou wishest." 
 
 No answer. 
 
 The Shadow of Allah on Earth waited, in- 
 tently watching the little figure before him, 
 which was lost in the ample and costly imperial 
 garments. It was several days since he had 
 seen her proud, disdainful face. He took a step 
 nearer her, and touched her on the shoulder. 
 She only shivered. 
 
 "Kizatesh Sultana, I wish to see thy face 
 to-day. I command thee to show me thy face." 
 
 16
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 She dropped her hands, and raised her small 
 head, though her eyes were cast downward. 
 He noticed that the face was not tear-stained. 
 
 "I wish thee to raise thine eyes to mine." 
 
 She obeyed. They were dark and deep, and 
 full of thoughts. 
 
 "I used to think that thou didst love thine 
 only child. Was I mistaken?" 
 
 It was as if the shadow from a cloud passed 
 over the mobile and sensitive face. Otherwise 
 one might have thought that she had not heard 
 him. 
 
 "Thou understandest that he has been taken 
 away from thee never to be returned?" 
 
 A tightening of her lips, and that was all. 
 Because she bore her misery with pride, the 
 Sultan desired her the more. 
 
 "Thou dost not love thy master thou dost 
 not love thine only son ! Art thou a woman, or 
 some fleshless djinn? If thou continuest in thy 
 obstinacy, if thou openly defiest me, I shall 
 treat thee as no wife at all and give thee to 
 whomsoever I choose, as a woman." 
 
 A flush spread over the pale face. "The law 
 of the holy Koran protects me, Padishah. I 
 
 17
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 am the mother of a living imperial prince. I 
 cannot be given away." 
 
 Her voice was low and musical, yet in it one 
 felt that the woman had both character and 
 strength. 
 
 "Thou art the mother of an imperial prince, 
 to-day, living " He shrugged his shoul- 
 ders and waved his hand. 
 
 A spasm shook the frail body of the woman. 
 She clasped her hands tightly together. Her 
 eyes held his entreatingly. "You will not 
 Be merciful ! Be merciful ! " 
 
 He laughed. It was the laugh of the strong, 
 who felt that he could whip the weak into 
 obedience. He moved away and stretched him- 
 self on a divan. 
 
 "Why shouldst thou implore for mercy 
 thou, of all women?" 
 
 She hid her face in her hands. 
 
 The Sultan laughed again. "Thou preferrest 
 to beg as a mendicant rather than to bestow 
 as a sultana: to be of those who receive alms, 
 rather than to be able to give riches?" 
 
 "I gave you all I had, my lord." 
 
 " I wish thee to give me thy love." 
 18
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Love is a gift from Allah, O Calif of the 
 Faithful. It is Allah who puts it into the breast 
 of a woman for her to give. He has put none 
 into my heart. How can I be greater than Allah, 
 and give what he has forgotten to give me?" 
 
 "Come here!" He repeated the command 
 twice before she obeyed him. "Come and kneel 
 here by my couch." 
 
 She knelt. 
 
 The Sultan drew her close to him. "Hast 
 thou never loved me never never?" 
 
 " So many women have loved you so many 
 women do love you, O Padishah whose 
 beauty is wonderful. What matters, Lord of 
 this Earth, the love of a woman such as I?" 
 
 "I want it. Look at me!" 
 
 She obeyed. 
 
 "Give me thy lips." 
 
 She became rigid, and he, watching her face, 
 saw her expression change, saw her face harden. 
 
 "Give me thy lips," he repeated. 
 
 In spite of her obedient attitude, her teeth 
 snapped viciously over her lips. 
 
 "Thou hatest me, woman, and I can crush 
 thee as I can crush an ant." 
 
 19
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "I do not hate you, lord, for you are Baya- 
 zet's father. In the love I have for him, I also 
 love you. How can I hold him in my arms and 
 hate you his father? How can I give him my 
 tenderness, unless a part of it is for you? I love 
 you in your son, and this is the only love Allah 
 has given me for you." 
 
 " So you love Bayazet. Very well." He rose, 
 a sardonic smile on his lips. "Rise!" he com- 
 manded. 
 
 She obeyed him. 
 
 He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. 
 He spoke very slowly: 
 
 "I have many sons, and many more can be 
 born to me. What is one, more or less, to me?" 
 
 "Padishah! Little Bayazet is yours, since 
 he drew life from your life. Because a mere 
 woman has not known how to please you, you 
 will not hurt what is preciously your own! 
 You will not cut a small but rare blossom from 
 your own tree!" Her voice was rich in its 
 anguish. It thrilled him to hear it. 
 
 He eagerly watched the play of emotions on 
 her delicate face. It pleased him, because it 
 excited him. For the first time since she had 
 
 20
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 been his wife was he fully aware why he de- 
 sired her above every other one of his wives. 
 It was because she roused him from his apathy: 
 she gave a variety to his love for women. All 
 others had bowed and acquiesced. She alone 
 fearlessly proclaimed that there was no love in 
 her heart for him. 
 
 It was a new experience for the great poten- 
 tate. No longer a leader of his own armies; a 
 prisoner in his own palace; denied all sports to 
 exercise his man's faculties, she alone had 
 changed the terrible routine of his life. She was 
 his sport. He laughed again; he meant to play 
 the game to the limit, and derive from it all the 
 satisfaction he could, since the love he wished 
 was denied him. He would hunt her spirit and 
 her courage, play with her heart and torture 
 it, since it would not give him joy. Exqui- 
 sitely Oriental, he knew neither mercy nor 
 pity. 
 
 "Have I not shown I could defy the law by 
 taking Bayazet away from thee, at his age?" 
 he asked gravely, as if seeking information. 
 
 "Surely my lord will give the child back to 
 his mother!" 
 
 21
 
 "As I took the baby away from the mother, 
 so I may hand the mother over to another man 
 if it please me." 
 
 "A woman is but a small thing in this world, 
 my lord; but at least she has power over her 
 own life." 
 
 "Art thou threatening?" 
 
 "No, Padishah, only my thoughts made 
 themselves audible." She crossed her hands 
 over her breast, and slowly went on: "Be- 
 cause Allah meant that your son Bayazet 
 should come to life, he created me. There are 
 flowers with but one blossom. I am such a 
 one." She bowed very low before him. "Now 
 that you have the blossom, my lord, you may 
 crush the flower, but spare the blossom." 
 
 "Thou speakest well, my beautiful Kiza- 
 tesh, but the great Allah gives the power of 
 deciding to his representative on earth. As 
 such I choose that thy son shall be taken away 
 from thee; and " he pursed up his lips judi- 
 cially "since thou defiest the wishes of thy 
 lord, thou shalt furthermore be given to an- 
 other man. I shall take some thought as to 
 who that man shall be." 
 
 22
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 With these words and a graceful wave of his 
 hand as if favorably dismissing some peti- 
 tioner he went from the room. She re- 
 mained behind, motionless, her eyes closed, 
 her hands loosely clasped. After many minutes 
 a spasm passed over her. She opened her eyes 
 and raised them to the ceiling. Slowly she out- 
 stretched her arms, palms upward, and in this 
 darkest and most desperate hour of her life, 
 she turned to him whom she called Allah. She 
 prayed that he might guide her, might show 
 her the road she must take, which she could 
 not see because of the darkness all around her. 
 "There must be a way, great Allah, there must 
 be one. It cannot be that thou leavest thy 
 child in darkness. Show me the way, Lord of 
 Eternity, show me the way, so that I may do 
 as thou wishest!" 
 
 After her prayer, a certain peace descended 
 upon her. Slowly she went to the latticed win- 
 dow and sat by it, and watched what she could 
 see of the blue sky. There, beyond it, lived the 
 great Allah, far above his children of the earth, 
 yet never forgetting that he was their heavenly 
 father. Now and again, as from a child who 
 
 23
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 has ceased to weep, a sob escaped her, but when 
 it came, it contained the name of Allah. 
 
 There was a knock at the door, and a woman 
 old and wrinkled entered. Her sleeves were 
 rolled up to her elbows, and a large apron 
 covered her entirely. At her entrance the 
 room was filled with an overpowering per- 
 fume. 
 
 "My sultana, will you come now and see? 
 The perfume is nearly perfect." 
 
 Kizatesh Sultana slowly turned her atten- 
 tion from the sky to the woman, but made no 
 other movement. 
 
 "Come, my sweetest sultana, come and see. 
 It has never risen to such a beautiful foam as 
 it has to-day." 
 
 Kizatesh Sultana sighed. "No, I do not wish 
 to come. I have no heart for perfumes to-day." 
 
 The old hanoum took a couple of rapid 
 strides and planted herself in front of her mis- 
 tress, astonishment and indignation depicted 
 on her countenance. 
 
 "You do not care to come? You have no 
 heart for perfumes?" 
 
 "Please, Melek, not to-day." 
 24
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "You will find your heart while looking into 
 the perfume," the old woman said with deep 
 reproach. "No matter how troubled you may 
 be, you cannot neglect your perfume. Remem- 
 ber, Kizatesh Sultana, your perfume is you 
 the best in you the you that attracts. Did 
 I not work for over ten years to bring together 
 this combination? And then did I not keep it 
 a secret, until I should find one most suited to 
 it? Three years I waited, and on the day of 
 your marriage, when your foster mother asked 
 me if I could produce a perfume that would 
 express you, did I not cry out at once : ' I have 
 it!' And was it not the most wonderful cir- 
 cumstance to learn afterwards that I had 
 dreamed about it the very year you were born? 
 There is not another of the sultanas who has 
 such a perfume. They have all tried to bribe 
 me to give them the recipe. They think it is 
 your perfume that makes you so dear to the 
 Commander of the Faithful." 
 
 Kizatesh Sultana started. If it was her per- 
 fume that enthralled the Sultan, then in- 
 stantly she would discard it. But she remem- 
 bered that the Sultan had chosen her before 
 
 25
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 this perfume had been hers. She was glad of 
 this, for her perfume is much to the woman of 
 the East. Among the women favored by for- 
 tune, the acquisition of a personal perfume is 
 one of the great events of life. She who pro- 
 duces such a perfume is given an honored place 
 in the household, and never divulges the secret 
 of its making till her end approaches. On her 
 death-bed she will confide the recipe as a val- 
 ued legacy to her dearest friend. 
 
 Kizatesh Sultana rose wearily, it is true, 
 yet she rose. "Let us go, then." 
 
 They walked down a long hall to the per- 
 fume room. Melek unlocked it, and they en- 
 tered, while the two eunuchs who had guarded 
 the door of the sultana followed, and stationed 
 themselves outside. The perfume room was 
 fitted up like a chemist's. A tall iron tripod, 
 filled with burning charcoal, stood in the mid- 
 dle of the room. On the embers sat a polished 
 vessel containing an iridescent, green liquid. 
 The two women stood reverently watching its 
 bubbling contents. A wonderful emerald green 
 was the predominating color, but tremors of 
 gold and red and aqua-marine shot through it, 
 
 26
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 as the aurora borealis shoots through the sum- 
 mer night. 
 
 Kizatesh Sultana had no thought now ex- 
 cept for the precious liquid in the pot. "Do 
 you think the bubbles have enough of the 
 blue?" she asked. 
 
 The older woman leaned forward and peered 
 into the pot. "Just watch till the red begins to 
 strive for the upper hand," she said excitedly. 
 "In a minute, now, you will see the perfect 
 blue." 
 
 Tensely they waited, till the bubbles began 
 to come more thickly, rising up in the middle, 
 and scuttling to the sides of the pot, the red 
 and the blue seeming to fight for the mastery 
 in the iridescent surface, until it broke. 
 
 "Yes, it is perfect," the sultana admitted, 
 delighted as a child. With keen pleasure she 
 inhaled the powerful yet delicate perfume. 
 Melek was right, the perfume gave her heart, 
 its essence expressed her individuality, and in 
 its iridescence were the colors she always wore. 
 Her gown was a soft satin of the emerald green, 
 while the gold and blue and red formed the 
 embroideries on it t " 
 
 27
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Melek had been attached to the foster mother 
 of Kizatesh Sultana, and had loved Kizatesh 
 ever since her advent to the palace. She 
 turned from the bubbling pot to survey her 
 mistress with critical affection. " I do not think 
 the red on your gown is quite the color in the 
 perfume," she suggested. "Yours is the tint 
 of the ruby: that in the pot is like the flower 
 of the pomegranate. Ask the Padishah to search 
 the world to find you a jewel of that color. He 
 will do it, for you are his favorite." 
 
 The word "favorite" brought back to 
 Kizatesh Sultana the troubles of the day, and 
 tears welled up in her eyes. 
 
 Instantly Melek's arms were around her. 
 "Don't, darling," she pleaded; "don't cry. 
 He will, of course, give you back Bayazet. He 
 only does it to punish you a bit a lovers' 
 quarrel. And I am not going to wait till my 
 death-bed to tell you the secret of your per- 
 fume; I will give it to you to-day."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 ADAMS HEARS A SOB 
 
 LALA SHEDDIN was the head eunuch of the 
 imperial palace, and for years he had been the 
 trusted man of the household of the ruler of 
 Turkey. He was tall and heavily built, and his 
 small, alert eyes indicated the rare intelligence 
 of the man. He had the ability both to judge 
 men correctly and to make friends. He spoke 
 English and French readily. 
 
 He conducted Adams in person to the pavil- 
 ion set apart for the tutor. It was a coquettish 
 little rococo structure, near the shore of the 
 Bosphorus. On the land side it was hidden 
 from sight by a large grove of trees, which con- 
 tinued all the way to the palace. It consisted 
 of a spacious sitting-room and dining-room 
 below, of a bedroom, another sitting-room, a 
 dressing-room, and a tiny Turkish bath above. 
 The upper rooms all had balconies, which 
 formed the roof of the large porch downstairs. 
 
 29
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 It was extravagantly furnished, in shocking 
 European style. 
 
 Lala Sheddin opened the large glass door 
 of the sitting-room, and bade the Englishman 
 enter. Inside he offered him an American 
 rocking-chair, and himself sat down cross- 
 legged on a divan covered with Turkish rugs. 
 
 "I like your face," he observed, without 
 preamble, " and if you come here with the idea 
 of staying, I think you may." 
 
 The Englishman nodded. 
 
 "How old are you?" 
 
 "Twenty-eight." 
 
 "You look older," the eunuch commented 
 frankly. He glanced from the other's face to 
 his hands. "Perhaps life has n't treated you 
 right." 
 
 "Perhaps / have n't treated life right." 
 
 The eunuch leaned over and took the Eng- 
 lishman's hand. He examined it carefully, in- 
 side and out. 
 
 "You have belonged to the working class 
 not a very long time," was his comment. 
 
 To this the Englishman made no reply. 
 
 "I am not going to ask you what your life 
 30
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 has been," the eunuch continued. "All I de- 
 mand is that your life shall be what I want it 
 to be while you are here." He dropped the 
 other's hand. "Whether you stay here a very 
 short time, or a very long one, will depend on 
 whether you do as I say or not." 
 
 The Englishman nodded. 
 
 "There are twenty-three princes in all. 
 Those that you will see range from fourteen 
 and fifteen, down to nine. You will take your 
 midday meal with some of them, and teach 
 them your manner of eating. You will ride and 
 drive with them in the morning, and read the 
 Koran with them in English. In the afternoon 
 again you will ride and drive, and in the even- 
 ing some may wish to come and play backgam- 
 mon with you. They will teach it to you if you 
 do not know it. You are always to speak Eng- 
 lish with them. I like English better than 
 French. It does not have so many compli- 
 ments." 
 
 Adams smiled, and for a while the two men 
 remained silent. Presently Lala Sheddin pro- 
 ceeded to drive his instructions more firmly 
 into the mind of the tutor.
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "You are to teach them the art of riding, 
 of driving, and of eating, as practiced in your 
 country. You may sometimes tell them stories 
 but leave the words 'king* and* God* out 
 of them." After another pause, he inquired 
 lightly: "You see no necessity of asking ques- 
 tions? Or of answering questions that do not 
 have to do with the art of riding and driving 
 and eating?" 
 
 "No," the tutor replied. 
 
 "That is well. Oriental boys are different 
 from English boys, and Ottoman princes are 
 different from all other boys and princes of the 
 world. You are their humble servitor. Do not 
 ever presume to make them obey you, if they 
 do not wish to; for the blood of the great Oth- 
 man is in their veins and you are only of 
 common clay." 
 
 The Englishman began to have misgivings. 
 How could he teach, without the slightest dis- 
 cipline? And the idea of being anybody's servi- 
 tor galled him. He made no comment, how- 
 ever, but waited for his instructor to go on. 
 
 "Whatever happens to you tell me. Do 
 not keep it to yourself. I was born here, and so 
 
 32
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 were several mothers that came before my 
 mother. I understand things here which you 
 cannot." 
 
 Adams inclined his head. 
 
 A gleam of satisfaction overspread the fea- 
 tures of the keeper of the Sultan's women. He 
 rolled his eyes until the whites alone were 
 visible. 
 
 "You ask no explanations?" 
 
 The new tutor shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 The head eunuch arose, and saluted the 
 Briton with manifest admiration. 
 
 "Mashallah! You are the only man of up- 
 ward of a hundred who did not let his tongue 
 flow on like a babbling brook. Make yourself 
 at home. This whole pavilion belongs to you, 
 and you shall have your body servant." The 
 eunuch took a step toward the door, then 
 turned and added: "My imperial master is 
 averse to sociability. Receive no visitors, ex- 
 cept Manlove Pasha, without special permis- 
 sion, and the less you ask permission, the 
 better. If money is what you wish, you can 
 leave here a rich man." 
 
 He salaamed, and left the room. 
 33
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 When the Englishman was alone he sat for 
 a long time gazing out upon the sea, his mind 
 reviewing the words of the eunuch. In his 
 career he had rolled into and out of many 
 queer places, but this seemed to him the 
 queerest. 
 
 "What can a tutor do without discipline?" 
 he muttered. He had meant to stick to this 
 place, to make good at it, not only for himself, 
 but for the trust Manlove had placed in him. 
 But could he succeed where he had to remem- 
 ber that his pupils were of the blood of Othman 
 and he himself of common clay? He laughed 
 silently, yet the lines of his face showed dogged 
 determination. The sportsman in him was 
 roused, and his imagination was also touched. 
 
 An excellent luncheon was brought to him 
 from the palace by the man who was to be his 
 bodyguard and who was to spy upon him 
 and report all his movements to the head 
 eunuch. A few hours after his meal, Lala 
 Sheddin appeared, wearing a frock coat and 
 gaudy waistcoat. 
 
 " I will take you to the princes now. They 
 are all assembled." 
 
 34
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 The Englishman followed his guide. He was 
 apparently unruffled and undisturbed; yet un- 
 derneath his British quietness he was not a 
 little excited at the prospect of meeting the 
 sons of the Sultan of Turkey, who were to be 
 his pupils, and with whom he must attempt 
 not the slightest discipline. The new career 
 opening before him was both difficult and full 
 of piquancy. 
 
 The two men set out in silence. As they 
 neared the palace, windows were opened, and 
 upon the gilded lattices the shadows of women's 
 heads were thrown. Burton Adams did not see 
 them : he did not raise his eyes in the direction 
 of the sounds. 
 
 Out of the corners of his small, intelligent 
 eyes the eunuch observed him. Presently he 
 touched him on the shoulder. 
 
 "You are a very wise man, my friend. You 
 would -have seen nothing but shadows had you 
 raised your eyes, but you did not. Mashallah ! " 
 With a touch of real friendliness in his tone the 
 eunuch added: "I need not tell you that it 
 would be safer never to lift your eyes when you 
 hear the opening of a window." 
 
 35
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Yet behind those lattices were not women 
 peeping forth from idle curiosity. The unseen 
 eyes were not filled with coquetry, but with all 
 the anxious intelligence of mothers' hearts, 
 endeavoring to divine the soul of this for- 
 eigner approved of by Lala Sheddin who 
 was to rob some of them of their sons, to re- 
 place for all of them the mothers' care. 
 
 In a sumptuous and spacious room the im- 
 perial princes were assembled to meet their 
 tutor. They were seated cross-legged on divans 
 covered with superb rugs. The walls were 
 hung with dark-red velvet, on which were em- 
 broidered, in gold thread, various mottoes of 
 the house of Othman. The eunuch first spoke 
 to the princes in Turkish; then in English he 
 introduced the new tutor and left them together. 
 
 His pupils greeted Adams without any of 
 the concealed hostility with which boys of an- 
 other race and station would have regarded 
 a new tutor. Their glances were indifferent. 
 They smiled at him, with smiles old and wise. 
 They were handsome boys, some of them very 
 handsome, and they were dazzlingly attired 
 in the uniforms of the various regiments of 
 
 36
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 which they were the honorary commanders. 
 But they lacked youth and vitality : it seemed 
 as if the shadow of the Ottoman throne had 
 dampened their spirits from birth. 
 
 The princes acknowledged the introduction 
 by touching their first two fingers to their lips 
 and then to their fezes. Their ages ranged from 
 fifteen to ten; but there was also a little one of 
 about four, dressed in a colonel's uniform, with 
 a tiny sword at his side. He did not salute 
 with the others; he came and planted himself 
 before Burton Adams, and volubly addressed 
 him in Turkish. 
 
 "It is the first time he leaves his mother's 
 lap. He has never seen a foreigner, and he 
 wishes to be saluted according to your own cus- 
 tom." The prince who volunteered this ex- 
 planation was the eldest, and of the few who 
 already knew English. He spoke so casually 
 and so indolently that Adams felt sure that 
 he should never be troubled by this one with 
 questions which must not be answered. Ex- 
 tending his hand to the miniature colonel the 
 Englishman said slowly and distinctly: "Good- 
 evening to you, my prince." 
 
 37
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 The baby colonel screwed up his face, and 
 repeated the whole sentence with wonderful 
 mimicry, whereupon his oldest brother ex- 
 plained to him that the last two words were 
 only meant for him, and not for the tutor. 
 ' "Good-evening," said the Englishman again, 
 shaking the soft baby hand; and the little 
 one repeated, "Good-evening!" 
 
 The other princes signified their desire to 
 be shaken by the hand also, and leaving the 
 colonel, the tutor advanced toward them. He 
 had reckoned without the colonel, however, 
 who, at this desertion, stamped his foot, drew 
 his sword from its bejeweled scabbard, and 
 with eyes flashing and lips quivering with an- 
 ger, cried: 
 
 "Gelbourda!" 
 
 Adams, smiling, returned to the angry boy, 
 and holding out his hand again, said: "Good- 
 evening, my prince." 
 
 At that, the colonel's wrath departed. 
 Quickly he put his sword back into its scab- 
 bard, and extended both his arms to be lifted 
 up. The Englishman stooped and picked up 
 the boy, rather awkwardly. The little one put 
 
 38
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 his arms around the man's neck, and nestled 
 close and lovingly to him. 
 
 With him in his arms Adams went from 
 prince to prince, shaking hands and "good- 
 eveninging" them. 
 
 "Now, sit down," said the eldest, "and tell 
 us a story." 
 
 Adams took a seat. The baby colonel, stand- 
 ing up on his knees, again began to talk to him. 
 
 "He wishes to know your name," his brother 
 translated. 
 
 "Adams," replied the Englishman. 
 
 The little one clapped his hands together and 
 laughed. "Addam, Addam," he repeated. 
 "Bayazet Addam!" 
 
 "Addam means 'a man' in our language," 
 languidly explained the interpreting prince, 
 "and my little brother says that you are Bay- 
 azet's man; for that is his name. He wants 
 you for his man." 
 
 "Tell him that I will be his man." 
 
 When this was translated, the young colonel 
 raised his little face and bestowed a kiss on the 
 tutor's cheek. 
 
 "I will be his man, and he shall be my boy," 
 39
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 went on the man; but when this was translated, 
 the colonel shook his head vehemently, and 
 spoke very fast. 
 
 "He says he is a young lion and only be- 
 longs to his mother. You are his man and his 
 slave, and he is your master, and now tell 
 us a story." 
 
 It was curiously difficult for Adams to think 
 of a story that did not contain some reference 
 to the forbidden topics. At the same time he 
 did not wish to hesitate; so he started at ran- 
 dom, and gradually found his way into Robin 
 Hood. 
 
 The colonel attentively watched the lips of 
 the man, for a time, but, understanding noth- 
 ing, he finally nestled his head against the man's 
 breast and closed his eyes. His right hand 
 gradually worked its way through the Eng- 
 lishman's coat and shirt till it found the bare 
 skin, which he began to pat softly, and then 
 fell asleep. 
 
 After the story was finished, the boys asked 
 for a song, and Adams sang them a nursery 
 rhyme. 
 
 The bodyguards of the princes now began to 
 40
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 arrive, and one after another the latter sa- 
 laamed and departed. He was left alone with 
 the still sleeping child in his arms. Lala Shed- 
 din had given him no instructions as to what 
 to do after the princes left him, and he sat 
 there waiting. The nestling child, the little 
 hand on his chest, were giving him a sensation 
 sweet in its tenderness. He had never before 
 held a child thus in his arms, and it thrilled him. 
 He watched it lovingly, noticing how clear the 
 skin was, how exquisite the shape of the eye- 
 brows, how well-cut the baby mouth, and how 
 the whole face, in spite of its four years, al- 
 ready denoted character. The little colonel 
 was different from his brothers. The English- 
 man wondered with regret whether in a few 
 years this boy, too, would become languid and 
 will-less, as the others seemed to be. 
 
 He bent down and gently kissed the sleeping 
 child. 
 
 A convulsive sob rent the air. Burton 
 Adams was startled. It came from so near 
 that he became alarmed lest in raising his eyes 
 he should find himself face to face with a woman 
 of the harem, whom he ought never to see.
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Who was she? Where was she? He hardly 
 dared to think. He sat motionless, his eyes bent 
 on his charge, while minute after minute lived 
 its short life of sixty seconds, which seemed 
 like hours to the Englishman
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 "THE SPIRIT OF THE HURRICANE" 
 
 AT last Lala Sheddin came into the room, 
 and burst out laughing at the sight of the Eng- 
 lishman with the child in his arms. 
 
 "I did not tell you that you were to be 
 nursemaid, too," and again he laughed good- 
 naturedly. "Give me the boy now." 
 
 In the exchange, the boy awoke, and set up 
 a yell that demonstrated the power of his 
 lungs. Then he kicked the head eunuch with 
 the might of his feet, and beat his face with the 
 strength of his clenched fists. 
 
 "Benim Addam!" he yelled, and held out 
 his arms toward the tutor. 
 
 "Let me have him," said Adams. "I don't 
 mind being nursemaid to him. In fact, I rather 
 like it." As soon as the child was back in his 
 arms, he nestled down and went to sleep again. 
 "I'll tell you what I might do; I'll take 
 him to my pavilion and keep him till dinner 
 
 time." 
 
 43
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "I wish you would," Lala Sheddin replied. 
 "The truth is he is something of an embarrass- 
 ment to me just now." He caressed his beard- 
 less chin as he looked reflectively at the infant. 
 "Let us go to your pavilion, then, since you 
 are willing to take charge of him for a time." 
 He led the way, and the Englishman followed, 
 carrying his sleeping charge awkwardly but 
 securely. 
 
 As they went out of the door, the figure of a 
 woman darted out from behind a portiere, and 
 disappeared down the dim corridor. 
 
 The eunuch stopped dumbfounded. "Allah! 
 She will bring death upon herself yet," he mut- 
 tered. As soon as they were out in the garden, 
 he asked Adams: "Did you know there was 
 some one in the room with you?" 
 
 ,"I heard some one sobbing." 
 
 "Did you know it was a woman?" 
 
 "I thought so." 
 
 "Did you see her?" 
 
 "No. I did not know where she was, and I 
 kept my eyes on the child." 
 
 "Do you think any of the princes heard 
 what you heard?" 
 
 44
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "No, I am sure they did not. I only heard 
 her after I was alone with the child." 
 
 Lala Sheddin walked on in silence for a little 
 time; then he surprised the Englishman by a 
 confidence. 
 
 "That was Bayazet's mother. She is an un- 
 happy woman." 
 
 Pity stirred within the Englishman for this 
 woman whose sobs he had heard and whose 
 slender figure he had seen darting away down 
 the corridor. So this was the mother whose 
 "young lion" he was carrying. Involuntarily 
 he pressed the child a bit closer in his arms. 
 Poor little chap, to be born into all this gor- 
 geousness, in which the spirit of a man became 
 extinguished before it had time to start. Poor 
 little chap, he thought again. Well, if he could 
 befriend him, he assuredly would do so. 
 
 Lala Sheddin left him at the entrance of the 
 pavilion. "I will return for the child as soon as 
 I can. At present I have some urgent business 
 to attend to." 
 
 He spoke with such utter weariness that 
 Adams surmised that the position of head 
 eunuch in the Ottoman palace included many 
 
 45
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 tasks from which the soul of the powerful offi- 
 cial revolted. 
 
 The Englishman sat down in his sitting-room 
 carefully, so as not to awaken the child. He 
 smiled rather grimly, as he thought of his pipe 
 and tobacco, which he was foregoing. This 
 acting as nursemaid had its humorous side, 
 yet he did not regret his forced abstention from 
 smoking. Bayazet had nestled his way straight 
 into the lonely Englishman's heart. 
 
 After half an hour Bayazet suddenly opened 
 his large dark eyes, and smiled. He stretched 
 himself, then sat bolt upright, and patted the 
 Englishman. "My man," he said; "my man." 
 
 "That I am, old chap." 
 
 Bayazet nodded, and volubly added many 
 other remarks. From time to time Adams took 
 up the conversation, and thus the two talked 
 to each other, neither one understanding a 
 word the other said, yet both of them confident 
 that they were getting along capitally together. 
 Now and then the boy would repeat some 
 English word that struck his fancy. 
 
 -Then there came a silence; the boy grew 
 restless, and then began to ask for something 
 
 46
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 he wished very much, his large brown eyes 
 watching his tutor with hopeful expectations. 
 
 "I'd give it to you if I could," Adams said, 
 and bent over and kissed the child's eyes. 
 
 Bayazet laughed; then plaintively began 
 asking over and over again: "Ya Ana! Ya 
 Ana!" 
 
 " I wonder if he wants a drink of water. Ya 
 Ana," Adams said meditatively, trying to guess 
 the meaning of the word. 
 
 "Evet ya Ana!" the child cried hopefully. 
 
 "Very well, we'll try you with water." 
 Adams placed the child on a divan, went into 
 the dining-room, and returned with a glass of 
 water, which he offered to his pupil. 
 
 Rage and disappointment came into the face 
 of the boy, and with a sweep of his hand he 
 sent glass and water out of the window. Then 
 he began to laugh at his own act, and throw- 
 ing his arms around the Englishman's neck, 
 he kissed him several times, though still he kept 
 on repeating "Anassim!" 
 
 The tutor patted the child soothingly. He 
 was aware of a subtle perfume about the boy, so 
 faint and delicate as hardly to be perceptible, 
 
 47
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 yet so different from any he had ever inhaled 
 before that he felt that he should recognize it 
 again anywhere. The boy cuddled up to him 
 and patted him in return, and endeared him- 
 self to the man in a way Adams would have 
 thought impossible a few hours before. 
 
 But the child was not satisfied. He rose, put 
 his two hands on the man's shoulders, and 
 peering intently into his eyes, said wistfully: 
 "Addam, anassim isterim." 
 
 "Yes, my boy, if I only knew what 'anas- 
 sim' was, I'd do my best to get it for you." 
 
 " Evet, evet, anassim," the boy said eagerly. 
 
 "Let's try games instead." Adams rose and 
 tossed the child up toward the ceiling, catch- 
 ing him as he came down. This game de- 
 lighted Bayazet so that he forgot his other 
 wants. Higher and higher did he fly, filling 
 the room with his childish cries of delight. 
 After the tutor thought he had been tossed 
 enough, he dropped to the ground on all fours, 
 and was horse for the little colonel. Bayazet 
 grasped hold of his collar and trotted and gal- 
 loped around the room in ecstasy. 
 
 Thus engaged Lala Sheddin found them. 
 48
 
 "Well, you do make a good nursemaid. You 
 must have boys of your own." 
 
 " No ; but it 's easy to know what a boy would 
 like," Adams replied, a trifle sheepish at being 
 found in so undignified a position. 
 
 The eunuch spoke to the child, and to 
 Adams's surprise, the little prince gladly went 
 to him, his face lighting up with joy, crying, 
 "Anassim!" 
 
 "He has been wanting 'anassim' for a long 
 time," said the Englishman. "I was trying to 
 distract his mind from it with games, since I 
 could not give it to him. What is it?" 
 
 "It means," said the eunuch wearily, "'my 
 mother.' " He patted the child. "Poor little 
 fellow!" 
 
 Bayazet shook hands with his tutor. 
 
 "Good-bye," said Adams formally. "Hope 
 I shall see you to-morrow." 
 
 "Good-bye," repeated the little prince; 
 "hopishe " He could get no further in this 
 new language; but when the eunuch trans- 
 lated the words to him, he replied volubly in 
 Turkish that he was surely coming, since he 
 loved "his man" very much. 
 
 49
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 The Englishman dined alone that night. 
 Afterwards he paced listlessly up and down his 
 veranda, facing the water. He would have 
 liked to walk down to its edge, but did not 
 consider it prudent to do so without asking 
 whether he might. So many things were com- 
 ing into his mind to ask about that he took 
 out his notebook and jotted them down. Pres- 
 ently he reentered his pavilion and began to 
 explore that. Luxuriously furnished, by a little 
 rearrangement it could be made quite home- 
 like and comfortable. He made another entry 
 in his notebook. 
 
 Examining the various cupboards and closets, 
 he found them well stocked with cigars, cigar- 
 ettes, sweetmeats, and other delicacies. He 
 went upstairs, and everywhere found all his 
 material needs supplied. He stepped out on 
 the balcony outside his sleeping-room. It was 
 half-filled with the wide-spreading branches of 
 a huge wistaria tree. Night or day, he could 
 see nothing from this balcony, which faced the 
 palace, a quarter of a mile away from him. 
 
 He went out on the balcony of his upstairs 
 sitting-room. The view from here was enchant- 
 
 50
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 ing. He ''stretched himself on a low wicker 
 divan and let his thoughts play with his past 
 and wander into the future. What would that 
 future be ? It was promising enough in a way. 
 He no longer dreaded the absence of discipline : 
 he felt certain that he should never need it. 
 His pupils lacked the force and high spirits 
 which call for discipline all except Bayazet. 
 What a delightful little chap he was. He had 
 spirit enough, and he meant to foster, not to 
 break, that spirit. A misgiving followed the 
 pleasure he had in the thought of the lad. 
 Suppose that Bayazet were not to come again ? 
 He was so little he might easily be returned 
 to the nursery for another five years. Of a 
 sudden Adams's position as tutor became col- 
 orless and without interest. 
 
 The last light of the afterglow faded from 
 the sky; the darkness came; and the stars 
 shone down from the Oriental sky with a bril- 
 liance he had never seen equaled elsewhere; and 
 in the starlight the landscape took on fantastic 
 shapes, as if it were a part of his reverie, and 
 were changing as magically as his own fortunes 
 had in the last few days.
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Adams did not move until he was roused 
 by hearing the voice of Lala Sheddin calling 
 his name from below. 
 
 "I am coming," he answered. 
 
 In the sitting-room downstairs Lala Sheddin 
 awaited him, an anxious expression on his face. 
 " Come up with me to the palace," he said. 
 
 "Anything the matter?" 
 
 "Bayazet has cried himself into a fever. He 
 is still crying, and we can do nothing to stop 
 him." 
 
 "Why is he crying?" 
 
 "Because he wants something he must not 
 have. Maybe you will be able to divert him 
 again, as you did this afternoon." 
 
 They heard the child's screams as soon as 
 they came near the palace. "My mother! I 
 want my mother my beautiful mother! 
 Little lion wants his mother." 
 
 The tutor found the child sitting on a couch, 
 swaying to and fro, and never ceasing his cries. 
 A bewildered crowd of courtiers stood about 
 him, manifestly at their wits' ends. At sight 
 of the tutor Bayazet threw out his arms to- 
 ward him. "Oh, my man," he wailed, "these 
 
 52
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 beasts, these dogs keep me from my mother. 
 I want my mother! Take me to her." 
 
 The Englishman took the boy in his arms, 
 and picked up a coverlet to wrap him in. 
 Bayazet kicked it away, too feverish to stand 
 any more warmth. 
 
 Adams talked soothingly to the child, who 
 listened attentively, his little soul in his big 
 eyes. Seeing him quiet, the Englishman tried 
 to play some game with him, but the child 
 refused to play. He was not screaming now, 
 but large round tears were dripping down his 
 flushed cheeks. Over and over again he ex- 
 plained to the tutor that he was tired, that he 
 wanted to go to sleep that he wanted to go 
 to sleep with his mother, and that he was kept 
 from going to sleep with his mother. "Take 
 me to her! Take me to her!" he commanded. 
 
 When he realized that his beloved man was 
 failing him also, he began to scream again, 
 filling the palace with his cries. 
 
 Of a sudden a hush descended upon the room; 
 all the men salaamed to the ground, and the 
 Englishman found himself face to face with 
 the ruler of this land. Before the Sultan Adams 
 
 53
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 alone stood erect, holding the child in his 
 arms. 
 
 Bayazet stopped his cries, and held out his 
 arms to his father. "Oh, my dear father, take 
 me to my mother, take me to my mother," he 
 begged. 
 
 The Sultan frowned upon the child. "You 
 are displeasing me very much. You are making 
 too much noise. It is by my express wish that 
 you have been taken away from her, and that 
 you are going to live like a man in this part 
 of the house, and not be coddled like a baby. 
 To-day you have been made a colonel, and a 
 sword has been belted on you. You are dis- 
 gracing both your uniform and your sword by 
 yelling like an infant. I wish you to cease, and 
 act as befits a man and a colonel." 
 
 The Englishman was astonished at the ex- 
 pression that appeared on the child's face. He 
 would not have imagined that it could have 
 depicted so much rage. The boy clenched his 
 fists and shook them in the air. 
 
 "I am not a man. I am only a young lion, 
 and I want my mother my mother! my 
 mother!" His screams were terrifying. 
 
 54
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Your majesty," Adams said, "I am afraid 
 he will kill himself with screaming." 
 
 The Sultan spoke again to the child, who 
 hushed his howling to listen; but finding his 
 mother still denied him, started in afresh. 
 
 Like a whirlwind some one leaped into the 
 room. The men all fell to the floor, and covered 
 their faces, as the small, lithe figure of a woman 
 sprang past the Sultan, wrenched the child 
 from the Englishman's arms, and tore out of - 1 '- 
 the room with the same speed with which she 
 had entered it. 
 
 The men remained prostrate. The Sultan's 
 face was dark and passionate. He spoke to 
 the Englishman in tones full of menace : 
 
 "You have dared to raise your eyes to the 
 face of one of my wives!" 
 
 An Oriental would have lied. The English- 
 man only said: "Was it a woman, your maj- 
 esty? I thought it was the spirit of a hurri- 
 
 cane." 
 
 The Sultan relaxed. "You have named her, 
 man. You have named her the spirit of the 
 hurricane!"
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE TUTOR'S FIRST DAYS 
 
 ALTHOUGH it was late when he was again 
 alone in his pavilion, the imperial tutor did 
 not prepare for his night's rest. He felt that he 
 wanted none. As before, he stretched himself 
 out on the wicker divan, in the warm night air, 
 and became lost in reverie. From time to time 
 he admonished himself with "You are an ass, 
 Lionel!" from which one might have inferred 
 that he did not like the trend of his thoughts, 
 were it not that man often takes the keenest 
 interest in life when he is able thus to address 
 himself. 
 
 Even as he said the words he would bring 
 his hand to his lips the hand she had touched 
 with her own when she had torn her son from 
 his arms. On his hand and his coat-sleeve 
 there still lingered the faintest odor of her per- 
 fume, the same perfume he had noticed on 
 Bayazet. 
 
 "The spirit of a hurricane!" No, that was 
 56
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 blasphemy! She was the spirit of all that was 
 most loving and tender and unhappy. What 
 a dark country was this that a man might not 
 even come to the assistance of such a one as 
 she. Yet powerless to do anything to help her, 
 he was glad that he- was at least near her, was 
 within the same walled enclosure as she. At 
 this point again Adams shook himself, like a 
 dog coming out of the water, and murmured, 
 " Lionel, you are an ass!" 
 
 Just before day he must have dozed off, for 
 when he again was conscious it was broad day- 
 light. He sprang up and went downstairs. 
 His servitor was already there, and a few min- 
 utes later brought him a cup of black coffee. 
 Then the Turk started a conversation in signs, 
 and, unable to make the Englishman under- 
 stand, took him by the hand and conducted 
 him to the bath-house, reached by a covered 
 balcony. Small as it was, it stood by itself, in 
 order that the heat might not come into the 
 pavilion. After bath and breakfast Lala Shed- 
 din arrived, in a gloomy mood. He gave some 
 brief instructions and departed. 
 
 At nine, the first group of princes arrived. 
 57
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 They were the eldest, and the eldest among 
 them salaamed gracefully and took his seat on 
 the divan. Although they were all about the 
 same age, the etiquette of seniority was rig- 
 idly observed. The second in age only took 
 his place after the first had indicated that he 
 might, by saluting him. He in turn salaamed 
 to the one who was to follow him; and thus, 
 one by one, all six took their seats. All were 
 dressed in their military clothes, and placed 
 their swords across their knees. Then the one 
 who had taken his seat first spoke : 
 
 "My brother, Prince Murad, salutes you. 
 He is sorry that he will be unable to come to- 
 day. He is in his haremlik, where one of his 
 ladies is ill." 
 
 After this there was silence, Adams wonder- 
 ing just how he was to begin his teaching, since 
 there were neither books, pencils, nor paper. 
 What should he teach them, and how? The 
 princes themselves evinced not the slightest 
 curiosity on the subject. They remained in- 
 differently silent, playing with the beads they 
 carried in their bejeweled hands. 
 
 Presently the third prince touched his fin- 
 58
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 gers to his lips and then to his military cap, 
 from the edge of which hung jewels, and said 
 something to his oldest brother. The oldest 
 brother touched his fingers to his lips, and 
 waved his hand, granting permission to speak. 
 Then the third boy addressed the tutor : 
 
 "Tell us how you learned your studies in 
 your country." 
 
 "Do you all understand English?" Adams 
 asked. 
 
 They nodded. 
 
 He told them of his school days. They were 
 interested at least, their dark eyes remained 
 fixed on him and they did not interrupt him 
 once. Exerting himself to entertain them, he 
 now and then caused them to smile and dis- 
 play their beautiful white teeth. They smiled 
 where other boys the world over would have 
 broken into an uproar of noisy laughter. Un- 
 questionably they were the best-behaved boys 
 he had ever seen. Lala Sheddin was right: 
 Osmanli boys were different from other boys, 
 and the princes of the house of Othman were 
 different from any other princes in the world. 
 
 After an hour, grooms arrived, leading 
 59
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 richly caparisoned horses. The princes rose in 
 the same order of precedence and with the 
 same formality with which they had entered, 
 and mounted their horses. Fully a quarter of 
 an hour was occupied in the salaaming which 
 accompanied this. Each prince was assisted 
 in mounting by two grooms and his own body- 
 guard. 
 
 The tutor inspected their seat in the saddle 
 and their way of holding their reins. He asked 
 them if they would like to learn to mount 
 unassisted, and gave them their first lesson 
 in this. They then rode through the wooded 
 avenues, within the palace enclosure, passing 
 many separate establishments of the different 
 princes, the boundaries of which were close 
 rows of evergreen trees, shutting from view 
 all that was within, while affording no pro- 
 tection in case of any revolt against the rule of 
 the Sultan. A few burly eunuchs at some of 
 these residences showed that there was no lack 
 of watch-dogs. These, as well as some gar- 
 deners who were encountered, prostrated them- 
 selves as the princes rode by. 
 
 The return to the pavilion was timed to meet 
 60
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 the second group of princes. The first group 
 dismounted and salaamed to the second, and 
 the second to the first. This was repeated again, 
 the salutation consisting of touching, with the 
 right hand, the ground, the knee, the heart, 
 the lips, and the forehead. As he watched the 
 numerous genuflections all the princes went 
 through, the Englishman acknowledged that 
 Mahomet was indeed a great prophet : for this 
 constant salaaming kept the body supple and 
 graceful: it took the place of dumb-bells and 
 calisthenics. 
 
 This second group of princes, a little younger 
 than the first, knew English less well than their 
 brothers. They spoke it slowly and haltingly, 
 with many mistakes. Their horsemanship, too, 
 was inferior, and the time with them passed 
 more quickly, there being more for him to do 
 in teaching them. They did not leave him till 
 luncheon time, an hour which plunged the 
 world into even greater silence than the one 
 that usually reigned here. 
 
 At four in the afternoon, his man brought 
 Adams his coffee, and shortly afterwards a 
 batch of ten little princes, between nine and 
 
 61
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 eleven years old, appeared. They knew no 
 English, but spoke French well, and he began 
 teaching them his language by showing them 
 objects in the room and slowly saying the 
 English names to them. They were passively 
 amused when they could not quite catch the 
 pronunciation of the words. They had ear and 
 a certain amount of willingness to learn; but 
 what the Englishman marveled at was the 
 repose, the dignity, and the courtesy they 
 possessed even at that early age. This group 
 had not yet learned to ride, yet the rapidity 
 with which, under his instruction, they picked 
 up the rudiments of horsemanship, reminded 
 Adams that, in spite of their present surround- 
 ings, they came of a nation which for centuries 
 had lived in the open and in company with 
 horses. 
 
 ,In the late afternoon all the princes arrived 
 together, and the amount of mutual salaaming 
 was increased in proportion to their numbers. 
 Prince Murad was now with them, he who 
 had been absent in the morning, and the 
 Englishman wondered whether he ought to 
 ask him how his lady was, or to ignore his 
 
 62
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 morning's absence. Not knowing what to do 
 he only said, "I'm glad to have you with us 
 again." 
 
 Prince Murad, as the eldest, was spokes- 
 man, when present. "Sing to us," he ordered. 
 Adams sang a nursery rhyme to them, and was 
 obliged to repeat it several times. "If there 
 were a piano, I could also play to you," he 
 suggested, and they all nodded approval of 
 the idea. 
 
 His scholars left the Englishman without 
 having caused him a single moment's trouble. 
 As he watched their departure, accompanied 
 by a small army of bodyguards, and heard the 
 clanging of their swords, which seemed so in- 
 congruous with their innocuous conduct, he 
 wondered anew whether the fiery and tempes- 
 tuous little Bayazet would in a few years grow 
 to be as passive and acquiescent as his elder 
 brothers. Several times during the day he had 
 been on the point of inquiring after Bayazet, but 
 remembered that he was not to ask questions. 
 
 The first day's work of the imperial tutor 
 was now at an end, and he was at liberty, 
 such liberty as the palace grounds afforded, 
 
 63
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 and just how much that was he did not yet 
 know. He went upstairs in his pavilion, and 
 after an instant's hesitation, passed out on the 
 balcony which faced the palace. He tried to 
 divine what was going on up there where she 
 lived. All that he could see was the dense col- 
 umn of great trees, five abreast, standing be- 
 tween him and the palace, like royal guards, 
 their intertwining branches seeming to bar the 
 way even to his thoughts. Yet for that they 
 were not strong enough, and though he could 
 not see even the glitter of the setting sun on 
 the gilded lattices of the haremlik, he could 
 almost see her holding her boy in her arms, in 
 her room, beyond the column of trees. He was 
 glad that Bayazet had not come, this day, for 
 it must mean that he was with her. 
 
 That evening did not bring Lala Sheddin; 
 and three more days followed, exactly like the 
 first. For Adams, getting into his work, they 
 passed quickly; and the evenings though 
 he had nothing to do but sit on his balcony 
 and smoke and dream the evenings passed 
 quickly, too. At the end of the third day Lala 
 Sheddin appeared. He sank upon a divan. 
 
 64
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Troubled days," he said, "troubled days." 
 
 Lala Sheddin, half an hour before, had re- 
 ceived from the tutor's servant a minute ac- 
 count of all the doings of the tutor, and he was 
 pleased with him. 
 
 "I am glad you came," the Englishman said. 
 "There are a number of things I want to ask 
 you about." He opened his notebook: "May 
 I walk down to the shore in the evening? May 
 I rearrange things here in the pavilion as I like ? 
 And is there any objection to my smoking a 
 pipe I notice you provided only cigars and 
 cigarettes?" He looked up at the eunuch. "I 
 have done nothing about the first two, but 
 I have been smoking my pipe." 
 
 Lala Sheddin laughed. "You are a model 
 man," he exclaimed. "Yes, you may rear- 
 range the pavilion to suit yourself, you may 
 smoke your pipe, and you may walk to the 
 shore in that direction." He pointed. "The 
 other leads toward the women's gardens, and 
 though they are some distance away, I should 
 advise you not to approach them." 
 
 "Very well," Adams assented. 
 
 A pause followed, during which the head 
 65
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 eunuch, though he appeared most absent- 
 minded, was observing the Englishman in- 
 tently. 
 
 "There was a tutor here once," he went on 
 dryly, "who, impelled by the idle curiosity 
 which you Europeans seem to develop, strolled 
 in the direction which I had advised him not 
 to. It was quite innocent curiosity, I believe, 
 but he only took twenty-seven steps beyond 
 the boundary which I had indicated to the 
 eunuchs. I know, because I paced the distance 
 to the body myself and ten eunuchs received 
 a stroke of the lash apiece for every one of those 
 twenty-seven steps." 
 
 Adams offered no comment on this, and the 
 two men sat in silence for some minutes in the 
 deepening dusk. 
 
 "I have explained this to you so minutely 
 in order that you may not err inadvertently," 
 Lala Sheddin remarked dryly. "You Euro- 
 peans always want to have explained the rea- 
 sons for things. You have not learned the vir- 
 tue of obeying without understanding. Have 
 you anything more in your notebook?" 
 
 "Yes; I should like to have a regular school- 
 66
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 house, fitted up with maps and blackboards, 
 with a piano and a harp." 
 
 "What kind of maps?" 
 
 "Geographical maps." 
 
 Lala Sheddin shook his head. "No, you 
 can't have any maps. Maps are lying things, 
 which would tell the princes that there are 
 other countries as large as Turkey." He spoke 
 in perfect soberness, but Adams guessed that 
 there must be a twinkle of humor in his eyes. 
 "And what will you do with the blackboards ? " 
 
 " I can teach English words easier to the boys 
 who know no English, and it will help with 
 those that do. Also I can use them for arith- 
 metic." 
 
 "You need not bother about arithmetic. 
 They will never need it. They do not keep ac- 
 counts. They are given money to spend, and 
 when it is gone they are given more. That is 
 enough arithmetic for princes. You may have 
 the blackboards, though, and the schoolhouse. 
 There is a kiosk down near the water, with 
 two large rooms. How large should you like 
 the blackboards?" 
 
 "The largest you can find; and I should like 
 67
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 about a dozen slates for the use of the boys 
 themselves. If one of the rooms is fitted with 
 desks, I think it would be better. I can draw 
 the design for them, and the carpenter can 
 make them. The other room might be fitted 
 up as a music-room; for they like me to sing 
 and play to them." 
 
 "What more is in your notebook?" 
 
 "Am I allowed to visit the stables and the 
 kennels, and make friends with the animals?" 
 
 "You may. What else?" 
 
 "Well, I should like to learn some Turkish, 
 to get along a bit better with my man here. 
 Have you any objection to that?" 
 
 "So you mean to make a long stay?" the 
 eunuch queried. 
 
 "I should like to." 
 
 "You are interested in your work?" 
 
 "It is not hard." 
 
 "What have the boys asked you?" 
 
 "They ask very little. They like riding, and 
 most of their questions deal with that." 
 
 "You ride very well," the eunuch commented. 
 "I like your seat and the way you manage your 
 horse." 
 
 68
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "When did you see me?" 
 
 "Every time you went out." 
 
 "I did not see you." 
 
 "It is my business to see all, and not to be 
 seen. How had you thought of setting about 
 learning Turkish?" 
 
 "If I had a book with Turkish words and 
 their pronunciation on one side, and the Eng- 
 lish translation on the other, I could study a 
 good deal by myself. Then I should want some 
 one to read the words to, who would correct 
 my pronunciation." 
 
 "I should be pleased to do that for you." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 Lala Sheddin played with his beads for a 
 while. "Is there nothing else in your note- 
 book?" 
 
 "That is all." 
 
 "And you have nothing more to ask me?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Mashallah! But you are the man after my 
 own heart. I don't suppose you have thought 
 at all about Prince Bayazet?" 
 
 " I have thought a great deal about him." 
 
 "And you do not ask?" 
 69
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "That does not mean that I should not be 
 glad to.hear anything you may care to tell me." 
 
 "He is a veritable eagle, that little boy of 
 four! He is the son of his mother." 
 
 Had Lala Sheddin known how eager the Eng- 
 lishman was to hear about Bayazet's mother, 
 he might not have trusted him as he was do- 
 ing at this moment. But the Englishman's face 
 was passive, his manner indifferent. His pipe 
 was between his lips, his hands in his pockets. 
 
 "The boy is ill." 
 
 "Oh!" the English "Oh!" than which 
 no more non-committal monosyllable exists. 
 
 "He cried himself into a fever that night, 
 and he has had fever ever since. Four doctors 
 have been by his bedside; for the Padishah 
 thinks more of that son of his than of any other 
 just as he thinks more of the boy's mother 
 than of any other of his wives. Fate is humor- 
 ous : every other woman in his palace is ready 
 to please the Padishah, and he wants the one 
 woman who does not want him. Kismet! Even 
 a Padishah must have his troubles, lest he for- 
 get that Allah is greater than he." The eunuch 
 got on his feet. " If you find after riding many 
 
 70
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 horses that there are some you like very much, 
 say so, and they will be reserved for you. Is 
 your man attentive to you?" 
 
 "A little too much. I should rather have 
 him go after his work is done." 
 
 "Very well. I will tell him that there is no 
 need of his staying." The double meaning in 
 the words was lost on the Englishman. "Is 
 there anything you would like to have to eat 
 which you do not have?" 
 
 "I have everything, I thank you." 
 
 "The Prophet does not believe in drinks. I 
 regret it for your sake especially since you 
 do not believe in the Prophet." 
 
 "I am beginning to have a great deal of 
 admiration for the Prophet. He keeps his 
 people sober, and gives them plenty of exer- 
 
 cise." 
 
 "You have been seeing the people pray?" 
 "No, but I have seen them salaam." 
 "Well, when you see them pray you will 
 have to admit that the Prophet was a great 
 physician. Now, good-night! You had better 
 take to our praying and salaaming to keep 
 yourself in condition."
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 The Englishman laughed 
 
 "Oh, by the way, I was told that Prince 
 Murad did not come to his lessons this morn- 
 ing, because he was in the haremlik with a 
 sick lady, his mother, I presume. What is the 
 etiquette? Was I supposed to inquire about 
 the lady's health?" 
 
 "No, never mention the word * harem* to 
 any of the princes. Between you and them the 
 word does not exist. It was n't Prince Murad's 
 mother who was ill, anyway. It was one of his 
 
 wives." 
 
 The Englishman lost a bit of his passivity. 
 "You don't mean to say that he is already 
 married!" 
 
 "All of the princes who came to you first 
 are married. Prince Murad has two wives."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE GREAT MAGICIAN OF STAMBOUL 
 
 - IN a huge, underground chamber of the palace 
 toiled the Great Magician of Stamboul. He 
 had been here for days and nights, and had 
 wasted away many pounds since he had come. 
 Of late years, with prosperity, he had waxed 
 fat. When his services had come into demand 
 even at the imperial palace, he had considered 
 his fortune assured. Now he was bending over 
 a copper brazier of live coals, and the smoke 
 from his dread ingredients was thick, and he 
 was muttering exorcising words with a fervor 
 he had never shown before in his life. But it 
 was not so much the hope of reward as the fear 
 of death that caused the drops of anxious sweat 
 to pour off his brow. There was only one 
 entrance to the room occupied by the Great 
 Magician, and Albanian guards were sta- 
 tioned outside the door. They would let no 
 one in they would let no one escape through 
 
 73
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 that doorway. And desperately the magician 
 toiled away at his magics. 
 
 In another part of the palace four European 
 physicians were quartered. Magic and science 
 were both working to save the life of Prince 
 Bayazet; for the Padishah, in spite of his 
 boast that he had many other sons, and that 
 many more could be born to him, felt a love 
 for fiery little Bayazet such as he entertained 
 for none other. If Bayazet were to die, then 
 death should come to other men also, in order 
 that the sorrow of the ruler might be appeased. 
 He could not kill the European doctors with- 
 out creating unpleasant European complica- 
 tions; but the magician with his boasted skill 
 could be crushed like a worm and the magi- 
 cian knew it. 
 
 Although, in their quarters, the aspect of 
 the four European doctors was grave, their 
 state of mind was less distressful than the magi- 
 cian's. As the seed floats to its destination on 
 the thistledown, so the seed of an idea had 
 been wafted from Lala Sheddin's mind to theirs 
 wafted so delicately that hardly a spoken 
 word had been necessary. They knew that it 
 
 74
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 would be well if they did not minimize to the 
 Padishah the dangers which beset their pa- 
 tient, well also if Bayazet's recovery were not 
 to set in until the eunuch pronounced him 
 convalescing. These European doctors had 
 lived long enough in Turkey to know that the 
 hints of a trusted eunuch were not to be dis- 
 regarded. Besides they were human, those 
 doctors, greedy for decorations, and large re- 
 wards, and the fame which the report of mar- 
 velous cures brings. To snatch an imperial 
 prince from the very jaws of death was an 
 achievement more worth while than merely 
 the curing of a slight indisposition and which 
 of us is unheroic enough not to prefer the great 
 achievement to the petty deed ? 
 
 On the fifth night, one of the doctors, as 
 usual, was left to keep watch over the child, 
 and with him was Lala Sheddin. To-night 
 there were complications. Lala Sheddin had 
 to go away for a time, yet he could not leave 
 any man alone in the haremlik of the Sultan, 
 and there was no other eunuch that he cared 
 to trust to take his place. The midnight hour 
 was past, and the doctor, a youngish man, of 
 
 75
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 stout Teutonic build, began to yawn. Fur- 
 tively Lala Sheddin watched him. When the 
 doctor had yawned seven times, the eunuch 
 spoke to him kindly: 
 
 "Suppose you lie down on the couch in the 
 alcove for a little while. I will watch over the 
 prince, and if I hear any movement, I can call 
 you directly." 
 
 The doctor hesitating, Lala Sheddin added 
 in a whisper: "The mother is anxious to come 
 and sit by the boy. I cannot let her come un- 
 less you lie down and pretend to be asleep." 
 
 There is not a European in Turkey who is 
 not desirous of obtaining a glimpse of a Turkish 
 woman, and when it comes to an imperial sul- 
 tana The bribe was no small one. The doc- 
 tor was youngish and handsome, and he had 
 been successful with women. His male egotism 
 was astir. If he lay down in the alcove he should 
 see an imperial beauty and she would see 
 him ! Instinctively his fingers went to his mus- 
 tache: caressed it, twirled it, and gave it an 
 upward slant. His florid face wore the air of a 
 conqueror. 
 
 Not one of these movements was lost on Lala
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Sheddin, and deep within the dried kernel of 
 his own heart he chuckled. 
 
 "Come!" he said, rising. 
 
 In the alcove was a divan and some pillows. 
 With care Lala Sheddin arranged and fluffed 
 up the pillows. The comfort of the doctor 
 seemed of great importance to the head eunuch. 
 He turned to him : 
 
 "Lie down here. So long as you seem to be 
 asleep it will not matter." 
 
 The doctor stretched himself on the couch. 
 It was not the usual hard couch found in Tur- 
 key, it was soft and yielding. A curious pun- 
 gent odor clung to the pillows "An odd per- 
 fume for a sultana," thought the doctor. "I 
 wonder what it is." 
 
 They were his last conscious thoughts. Lala 
 Sheddin, with a vacant expression, watched the 
 lids of the doctor flicker, half-close, then sink 
 down over his eyes, and his breathing come 
 with the regularity that bespeaks the real, not 
 the sham, sleeper. 
 
 The eunuch brought from his pocket a case 
 about the size of a cigar-case. It was carefully 
 wrought and fitted hermetically. Unfastening 
 
 77
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 it, he took out two dried leaves. He rubbed 
 them between his hands, and the same odor 
 the doctor had noticed emanated from them. 
 The powdered leaves he put in a handkerchief, 
 crushing it together till the leaves were well 
 rubbed into the cambric, and then he placed 
 the handkerchief over the face of the sleeping 
 man. "Now you will be out of the way for more 
 time than I need," he muttered. 
 
 He turned to the sleeping prince, and as he 
 gazed upon him, his expression was far from 
 vacant. Whatever was human in Lala Sheddin 
 was alive in him now. "Every bit her child," 
 he murmured. "Every bit her son in face as 
 well as spirit." He bent and lightly passed his 
 hands, smelling of the pungent herb, over the 
 face of the prince. "You must be quiet, quiet, 
 quiet!" he said tensely. 
 
 Softly he opened the door, and passed out 
 into the anteroom. It was small and empty. 
 There was no possible place where a human 
 being could be concealed; yet he examined 
 every corner, every portiere, every impossible 
 spot. Caution had become so ingrained with 
 
 
 
 Lala Sheddin that he would have suspected a 
 
 78
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 walking-stick of harboring some one. Having 
 finally assured even himself that no one was 
 there, he cautiously opened a heavily curtained 
 door. Bayazet's mother was in the room be- 
 yond, with a trusted woman slave. He beck- 
 oned to them to enter; and in spite of the cer- 
 tainty that no one was within earshot, he spoke 
 in so low a tone that it hardly vibrated the air. 
 
 "I have put the European donkey to sleep, 
 and a little I gave Prince Bayazet." 
 
 "Oh, Lala Sheddin ! Is it well for him thus to 
 drug him?" the mother cried. 
 
 "We cannot afford to have him awaken while 
 I am gone and I must go. I shall be back in 
 less than an hour. You must remain on watch 
 here while I am away, and she" pointing to 
 the woman "must remain in the outer room. 
 Should a malevolent spirit impel the Padishah 
 to come here while I am gone, you must keep 
 him from entering that room. If he should enter 
 and find me gone, and the man there and you 
 here, it would mean the end of all things 
 for us, and for Prince Bayazet as well. He 
 would spare nothing that he could wreak his 
 vengeance on." The eunuch paused, and then 
 
 79
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 went on impressively: "Remember, Kizatesh 
 Sultana, the Padishah must not enter that 
 room, even if, to keep him out, you have to 
 pretend that love has suddenly blossomed in 
 your heart for him. If any other persons come 
 to the door of the room," he said, turning to the 
 slave, "tell them my orders are that they are 
 to go away at once if they wish to live twenty- 
 four hours. Now I must leave you. Pray to 
 Allah to be with me. If I succeed, you may 
 keep Prince Bayazet with you in the haremlik 
 for some years longer and you yourself will 
 be molested by no one." 
 
 Lala Sheddin had not boasted to the English- 
 man when he said that he knew the palace well. 
 He knew it better than any man living in- 
 finitely better than his imperial master. The 
 palace was not the orderly conception of an 
 architect's brain. It had grown up, wing by 
 wing, had crumbled, been rebuilt, and altered 
 many times, as the whim of the ruler, or of this 
 or that favorite wife, had impelled; and during 
 Lala Sheddin's forty years of supremacy he had 
 found it convenient to have certain hidden pas- 
 
 80
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 sages made passages with cleverly concealed 
 doors by means of which it was possible for 
 him to pass, unseen and unsuspected, from one 
 apartment to another, or to overhear the spoken 
 thoughts of others who thought themselves 
 alone. Thus, although the Albanian guards 
 stood alertly at their posts, to permit neither 
 ingress nor egress to the vaulted room where 
 the Great Magician of Stamboul was evoking 
 the spirits, suddenly, without sound or warn- 
 ing, the arch-eunuch crouched before him. 
 
 The magician was so startled that at first he 
 thought he had actually succeeded in calling 
 the spirits from the vasty deep. A sign of cau- 
 tion from Lala Sheddin and the fear of the su- 
 pernatural was replaced by another fear. The 
 magician trembled as if in the grip of illness. 
 
 Lala Sheddin flattened himself out on the 
 floor, in the dark shadows, beneath the copper 
 brazier with its flickering light, and began to 
 speak to the magician. He spoke so low that 
 the magician had to bend to catch the words. 
 He spoke at length, and then the magician re- 
 peated certain words several times over, as if 
 learning a certain formula. 
 
 81
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 As silently as he had come, the eunuch went 
 away, in the shadows. Even the magician did 
 not see him move from the darkness beneath 
 the flickering light from the brazier. "Mash- 
 allah! He disappears like a djinn," the magi- 
 cian muttered, with the sincere admiration of a 
 fellow craftsman. 
 
 Nothing untoward had happened during 
 Lala Sheddin's absence. He found the slave 
 woman in the outer room, and Kizatesh Sultana 
 on guard where he had left her. He waved his 
 hand to her. 
 
 "All is well! Your star, carried by the sun, 
 is high in the heavens. Go now to sleep." 
 
 "Lala Sheddin, let me see my boy just 
 one peep," she begged. 
 
 Autocrat though he was within his own 
 sphere, he found it hard to refuse her. 
 
 "Come, then, and come quickly. We must 
 not spoil things to gratify a weakness." 
 
 Prince Bayazet's curly head on the little 
 white pillow lay motionless, in deepest slumber. 
 
 "Make him move, Lala Sheddin. Let me see 
 signs of life to take with me to remember." She 
 pleaded low and earnestly, with the rich tones 
 
 82
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 in her voice which made those who heard her 
 wish to obey her. Lala Sheddin rubbed his 
 hands together, and touched the child. 
 
 "Wake! Wake!" he repeated. 
 
 The little prince stirred. One of his hands 
 moved. The mother caught him to her breast 
 and held him for a second, her face alight with 
 joy. With half-closed eyes Lala Sheddin 
 watched her, unwonted tenderness softening 
 the hard lines of his face; yet when she put the 
 child down and thanked him for his kindness, 
 he spoke savagely to her: 
 
 "Begone, woman; begone, I say! Have n't 
 we run enough risks to-night?" 
 
 On the seventh day after Bayazet had been 
 taken ill, at the hour when the muezzin was 
 calling the faithful to prayer, the magician was 
 brought into the presence of the Shadow of 
 Allah on Earth. He had a message to deliver 
 from the spirits, and this was it: 
 
 "Prince Bayazet had been torn from child- 
 hood and thrust into manhood. This must not 
 be : for five years more he must remain a child 
 remain within the care of the woman who 
 .83
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 had borne him. And during this time she, the 
 woman who had borne Prince Bayazet, must 
 see the face of no man, not even of her husband. 
 Were either of these conditions to be broken, 
 the vengeance of the spirits would descend upon 
 the Padishah himself, and he should die." 
 
 These were venturesome words to speak to 
 the face of the Sultan, and he paled, half with 
 anger, half with fear. 
 
 "When did this message come?" he asked, 
 trying to sneer away a tremor in his voice. 
 
 " It was at the hour when seven stars crossed 
 and recrossed one anothers' courses, O Great 
 Emir. A voice from the depth of the newborn 
 day spoke to me then, and bade me bring you 
 this message. I have no right to question. I 
 can only repeat what the voice said, because 
 after I heard it, as always happens, I fell into a 
 great swoon, only to awaken at the dawn of the 
 morning star." 
 
 Had the Sultan had any doubts of the genu- 
 ineness of the message they would have been 
 dispelled when on that same day the four Eu- 
 ropean doctors pronounced the young prince 
 entirely out of danger. They left the palace 
 
 84
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 loaded down with gifts, and each one wearing 
 his decoration yet it was the Great Magician 
 of Stamboul who carried away the greater 
 riches. Immediately after that all trace of him 
 was lost. He had reached the summit of his 
 ambition he had been called to the palace : 
 he did not desire to have that dangerous dis- 
 tinction conferred on him again. As for Lala 
 Sheddin, he went about his various difficult 
 tasks with his habitual expression of heaviness, 
 managing to keep an army of eunuchs from 
 envying him and a greater army of women from 
 hating him.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 "YOUNG, AND ALONE, AND DEFENSELESS" 
 
 As was his evening habit, the Englishman 
 was stretched out on his chaise-longue on the 
 veranda, smoking and looking up at the stars 
 and pondering on this strange life into which he 
 had been thrown, a life that had not yet had 
 time to become commonplace. He was hoping 
 that Lala Sheddin might come and tell him 
 something of what was happening up there in 
 that huge palace, not half a mile from his 
 pavilion, but which might as well have been on 
 the other side of the globe, so unapproachable 
 was it. 
 
 It must have been a good night for hoping; 
 for suddenly, without Adams's having heard a 
 sound, the head eunuch stood before him. 
 
 "Well, ! I am glad to see you, Lala Shed- 
 din," Adams cried, springing from his chair, 
 "and forgive this one question: How is Prince 
 Bayazet?" 
 
 86
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "The doctors have gone away so has the 
 Great Magician of Stamboul," the eunuch 
 answered. 
 
 "Had a magician, did you?" the Englishman 
 commented. 
 
 The quick ear of the other noted disapproval. 
 Lala Sheddin sat down, and after the English- 
 man was also seated, drew his chair close to his 
 host's. When he spoke, his voice would not 
 have carried three yards. 
 
 "Ah, my young friend, the magician was 
 much more useful than the doctors though 
 they helped also, in their place." In the bright 
 starlight the eunuch, with humorous intentness, 
 watched Adams's face as he refilled his pipe. 
 "Are you not afraid that you may burst?" he 
 asked gravely. 
 
 "Burst how?" the tutor inquired. 
 
 "With all that you would like to know 
 and do not ask about." 
 
 "A condition of my staying here was that 
 I was not to ask questions," Adams observed 
 dryly. 
 
 "Not from the princes." Lala Sheddin 
 touched his nose knowingly with his forefinger. 
 
 87
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Sometimes you may ask from me. But now, 
 tell me, did the carpenters do well in the school- 
 rooms?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. They are fitted up capitally now. 
 I am surprised that with all the anxiety you 
 have had you should have thought of them at 
 all. I had forgotten about them myself." 
 
 "You were anxious I was not; though 
 there were certain combinations I had to bring 
 to a happy culmination." 
 
 Adams felt a certain amount of annoyance 
 with the eunuch. Little as he had seen of him 
 during the ten days he had been here, he had 
 already come to realize that he was not an 
 ordinary man. He admired and respected him, 
 as an Englishman will always respect ability 
 wherever he meets it. But because the eunuch 
 was shrewd beyond Adams's imagination, he 
 was annoyed and baffled, as an Englishman is 
 by what he does not understand. He suspected 
 Lala Sheddin of putting more "side" into his 
 mysteriousness than there was really occasion 
 for. In his next question he reverted to the 
 simpler matter of the schoolrooms. 
 
 "Did you yourself choose those blackboards, 
 88
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 slates, and musical instruments? They were 
 just what I wanted." 
 
 The Mussulman shook his head. "I never 
 leave the palace. I was born here, and all I 
 know is here. I have seen the men composing 
 the outside world, and with few exceptions they 
 give me no desire to see it. Besides, I have all 
 I can do here. There are five thousand people 
 who live in this enclosure: a quarter of them 
 fear me; a quarter hate me; another quarter 
 envy me; and the other quarter attribute to me 
 supernatural powers. And I well, I fear one 
 person, and I care for two; I am sorry for some, 
 and the rest I despise. Yet there is a great deal 
 to do to keep those five thousand people from 
 how shall I say from developing so much 
 friction that they shall get on fire. As for the 
 Padishah" 
 
 The eunuch bowed low as he referred to the 
 august personage. Yet, unless the starlight de- 
 ceived him, Adams perceived a mocking gleam 
 in his eyes as he raised his head again. Leaving 
 the sentence unfinished, Lala Sheddin inquired : 
 
 "Do you like your pupils?" 
 
 "Very much. They give me no trouble, and 
 89
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 they learn quickly whatever they are inter- 
 ested in." 
 
 "You have a pleasant voice when you sing. 
 You sing even better than you play, and the 
 boys are fond of music. Do you still wish to 
 stay on here?" 
 
 " Indeed I do." Adams's tone was hearty. 
 
 "Tell me why you wish to stay here." 
 
 "It's a good job." The tone of the English- 
 man was less convincing than it had been 
 before. 
 
 As if it were a matter of the utmost impor- 
 tance, Lala Sheddin placed the finger-tips of 
 one hand against those of the other a Turk- 
 ish trick when thinking or to gain time. He re- 
 garded them intently until all five were in place; 
 then he raised his eyes and looked straight into 
 those of the Englishman. 
 
 "It is the restful monotony you like?" he 
 asked innocently, " teaching little boys ? Or 
 is it sitting up here, night after night, by your- 
 self, without ever seeing a person?" 
 
 "W-e-1-1, I am usually glad to rest after 
 the day's work," Adams explained, somewhat 
 lamely. "And then I do see you, you know, 
 
 90
 
 THE GRASP. OF THE SULTAN 
 
 and I Ve never met any one who interested me 
 
 more." 
 
 Lala Sheddin did not hide the pleasure he felt 
 at the Englishman's words; yet he shook his 
 head. "You took the post before you had met 
 me. You are young, you are handsome even 
 better than handsome, you have that about 
 you which must make women love you very 
 much; and from what I understand, the love 
 of women is the most potent factor in the lives 
 of men. Yet you are willing to live here like a 
 Christian monk why? " 
 
 The son of an English lord pondered for a 
 minute. "Lala Sheddin, for some years I have 
 paddled in the wrong course. I resolved to get 
 back where I belonged. Manlove Pasha, who 
 is a friend of my family, believed in me and 
 gave me this chance. I mean to justify his 
 confidence." 
 
 "Ah, so you are not a worthy young man who, 
 by diligent studying, has raised himself to the 
 position of tutor to small boys in learning?" 
 
 Adams gave a wry smile. "No," he replied. 
 
 "You have, what you call in your country, 
 'blood'?"
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You are you were rich?" 
 
 "My father is. What came to me from my 
 mother I have already wasted." 
 
 "You have nothing except what you will 
 earn here?" 
 
 "Quite so." 
 
 "At the death of your father, you inherit 
 nothing?" 
 
 "He disinherited me in fact, he believes 
 me dead." 
 
 "'Burton Adams' is not your name?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Is your father a great man in his coun- 
 try?" ' 
 
 "He has a great name, and occupies a great 
 position." 
 
 "I thought so. I am glad I was right. I am 
 pleased you have 'blood.' It is a good thing to 
 start with sometimes." The eunuch leaned 
 forward and touched Adams on the shoulder. 
 " I am a lonely old man, and there are few peo- 
 ple I like. It is a great deal for me to have you 
 here to trust you. I can trust you better, I 
 think, because you have paddled in the wrong 
 
 92
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 course, as you call it and have come back to 
 the right one. Now, let us go in where there is 
 a light, and I will begin teaching you Turkish. 
 I shall do so regularly, in order that there shall 
 be a reason why I come to you often." 
 
 Into the difficult study of Turkish the pupil 
 put great efforts. He had an excellent teacher, 
 and within two weeks could read and write 
 a number of useful words, besides speaking a 
 number more. The friendship between the two 
 men grew with that steady, gradual growth 
 which goes far. The eunuch asked to know the 
 Christian name of the Englishman; "for I do 
 not wish to call you by a false name," he said, 
 and so "Lionel Effendi" he became when they 
 were alone together. 
 
 A month later, after their lesson was ended, 
 the eunuch said : " I shall bring Prince Bayazet 
 to you to-morrow." His tone was casual, but 
 his lynx-like eyes were fastened on the English- 
 man. He saw the sudden light of pleasure, fol- 
 lowed by a troubled look. Leaning toward him 
 Lala Sheddin asked quietly: 
 
 "Why were you glad and then sorry?" 
 
 "I was glad, of course, to see the boy," 
 93
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Lionel replied, with some embarrassment. "He 
 is not an ordinary child." 
 
 "And sorry why were you sorry?" 
 
 "Hang it all, man," Lionel stammered, "it's 
 none of my business, but does this mean that 
 she has lost the boy again?" 
 
 "She who is 'she'?" the eunuch asked, 
 with a blank, puzzled face. 
 
 An uncomfortable flush mounted to the 
 Englishman's face. "You don't expect me to 
 pretend to be indifferent to a woman's suffer- 
 ings, do you ? " 
 
 A slow smile crept into the well-controlled 
 countenance of the eunuch. "You were very 
 clever that night in the palace, when the great 
 Calif asked you if you had seen the woman's 
 face. You did not lie, but you did see her face." 
 Lala Sheddin drew his chair closer. "Tell me, 
 Lionel Effendi, when you sit upstairs at night 
 and watch the stars, do you dream of her?" 
 
 The Englishman shivered. He had an un- 
 canny fear of this man. "My dear fellow " 
 he began. 
 
 Lala Sheddin interrupted him. "You need 
 not deny it, Lionel Effendi. There is nothing so 
 
 94
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 beautiful in the world as to dream of a woman 
 whom you are never to see again. A woman 
 young, and alone, and defenseless, in the im- 
 perial palace: a woman barely eighteen years 
 old a child, with the heart of an eagle, the 
 courage of a lion. Why should you be ashamed 
 to admit it, Lionel Eflendi? She is worth 
 dreaming about, this young mother who is 
 sending you her son to-morrow, and who bids 
 me to tell you that she trusts you, and begs you 
 to make of him a man like yourself." 
 
 "She sends me that message?" The English- 
 man's voice sounded strange in his own ears. 
 
 " She does. But there is no use of your think- 
 ing you will ever see her again; for you never 
 will. Only there is no harm in your dreaming 
 about her, and" his voice was very low 
 " and even loving her. It is said that love is the 
 most powerful thing in the world: that by its 
 strength it can protect the beloved one as if 
 surrounding her with the walls of a fortress. 
 She needs it young, and alone, and defense- 
 less, up there in the imperial palace." 
 
 He rose. "No more to-night, my boy. The 
 strongest of us have weak moments, moments 
 
 95
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 when we say and do things which we regret 
 afterwards. Let no such regrets come between 
 us. Good-night!" 
 
 Lionel closed the door after the eunuch, and 
 went up to his room, his heart still vibrant with 
 the words: "Young, and alone, and defense- 
 less." It was hours before he could compose 
 himself to sleep; and even then he dreamed of 
 a woman, barely eighteen, whom once he had 
 seen and whom he was never to see again.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MANLOVE PASHA WONDERS 
 
 IT was a still pale and frail-looking boy, the 
 little Bayazet, whom Lala Sheddin brought to 
 the tutor the next day, but his eyes were clear 
 and as full of fire as ever. He stretched out his 
 arms to Lionel, and his delight was of the great- 
 est when "his man" spoke a few words to him 
 in his newly acquired Turkish. He did not wear 
 his colonel's uniform, but a little frock, with an 
 eaglet embroidered on his breast. 
 
 Lala Sheddin pointed to the eaglet. "She 
 wears a mother eagle. She embroiders them all 
 herself." 
 
 "Is she going to lose him again?" Lionel 
 asked. "You did not tell me last night." 
 
 The eunuch shook his head. "She is to keep 
 him for five whole years. Do you see now how 
 important the magician was?" He smiled 
 slightly. "Not only is she to keep him; but 
 during those five years, he" he made a move- 
 ment of his head in the direction of the palace 
 
 97
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "he is not going to see her. So much I have 
 gained for her." 
 
 A great flare of joy suffused Lionel's whole 
 being. He held out his hand to the eunuch. 
 "Lala Sheddin, you are a man." 
 
 "By the grace of Allah, I should have been," 
 the eunuch replied quietly. 
 
 The other princes entered at this point, and 
 saved the Englishman from the necessity of 
 trying to extricate himself from the embarrass- 
 ment into which Lala Sheddin's words had 
 thrown him. 
 
 With the return of Bayazet, Lionel's daily 
 work became more interesting. He was by far 
 the most intelligent of all the princes, and 
 would have been a remarkable child anywhere. 
 As the boy rapidly learned English, he and his 
 tutor became great chums. While exquisitely 
 childlike in many ways, Bayazet often startled 
 the tutor with thoughts that might have been 
 natural to a precocious boy of sixteen, but 
 which, emanating from his tiny frame, were 
 uncanny. He was the most regular of all the 
 princes in his attendance at school, occupying 
 a little high chair beside the tutor; and when 
 
 98
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 his brothers went out to ride, he went, too, sit- 
 ting on a silk pad in front of the Englishman's 
 saddle. Every night he carried his little slate 
 home with him, and when Lionel suggested 
 that he leave it in the schoolroom with the 
 others, he shook his head vehemently. "No! 
 No! I must take it!" he insisted; and he pre- 
 served the English words on his slate from 
 erasure with the greatest care, not even per- 
 mitting his bodyguard to carry it. 
 
 One day, in the middle of the forenoon, the 
 Sultan himself visited the schoolroom. The 
 princes and the tutor rose, and Bayazet, who 
 was pinned in his chair, raised his hands above 
 his head, to give the impression of rising. 
 
 The Sultan returned the salute of his sons, 
 then approached Bayazet and asked: 
 
 "Art thou also learning to be a man?" 
 
 "The sultana, my mother, has already taught 
 me that," Bayazet replied. "Addam" teaches 
 me other things. See!" Painstakingly he wrote 
 on his slate: "I love my father." He read it to 
 the Padishah, and translated it. 
 
 The Sultan laughed, and caressed the boy's 
 long, dark curls, which framed his thin, sensi- 
 
 99
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 tive face. He touched the jewels embroidered 
 on the ribbon which kept the boy's hair from 
 falling into his eyes. 
 
 "These are mean jewels, my son, for such 
 a clever lad as thou art. Tell the Sultana, thy 
 mother, that she must ask me for better 
 
 ones." 
 
 Bayazet's head was proudly tossed. "Must 
 the sultana, my mother, beg for jewels, Padi- 
 shah, father? If I am a good lad, may I not 
 receive the jewels without my mother asking 
 for them?" 
 
 The Sultan frowned. "Thou art too proud 
 for thy mother, my son. And for thy father, 
 what hast thou in thy heart?" 
 
 Bayazet put his ten finger-tips to his lips, 
 then laid his fingers on his head, as the Turks 
 do to express respect. "My father is the Calif 
 of the Faithful, the Shadow of Allah on Earth 
 so the sultana, my mother, teaches me." 
 
 The Sultan smiled. He detached a large em- 
 erald from the string of jewels he was play- 
 ing with, and asked the Englishman to tie it 
 to the boy's ribbon. Graciously salaaming, he 
 left the room. After this it became his custom 
 
 100
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 occasionally to drop in on his sons at their 
 studies, and while he took notice of them all, 
 it was manifest to Lionel that his interest was 
 keener in little Bayazet than in any of the 
 others. 
 
 To Lala Sheddin the tutor explained that 
 since Bayazet was so much younger than his 
 brothers, it would be well if he could have him 
 alone for some time each day. The eunuch gave 
 his consent at once. Thus Bayazet, in addition 
 to his morning hours, came to "his man" for 
 an hour in the afternoon, before any of his 
 brothers arrived. During this hour Lionel gave 
 Bayazet certain setting-up exercises, to broaden 
 and strengthen his little frame, exercises 
 which the other princes would have considered 
 beneath their dignity, and during this hour, 
 also, Lionel gradually began instilling into the 
 lad principles and a mode of thought more 
 suited to the son of an English gentleman than 
 to the son of an Osmanli ruler. And as he came 
 to know him better, he learned that he could 
 trust Bayazet never to betray by the slightest 
 sign that he adopted a different attitude toward 
 him. 
 
 101
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Although Manlove Pasha had occasion to 
 come to the palace every week or two, he had 
 not seen his protege since the day he entrusted 
 him to Lala Sheddin, having understood from 
 the latter that it would be advisable for the 
 tutor to see few visitors. 
 
 Two months had elapsed when one day the 
 head eunuch invited Manlove to stay and take 
 luncheon with his fellow countryman. The 
 older Englishman was very curious to see how 
 Lionel was standing the monotony and confine- 
 ment of his position. He was surprised to find 
 his young friend not only resigned, but appar- 
 ently contented. It puzzled the admiral. 
 
 "But what do you do when you are not tutor- 
 ing?" he inquired. 
 
 "My work takes up a good deal of my time. 
 Then I have to prepare the lessons you know 
 I have to be rather circumspect in what I touch 
 on. Would you like to see the schoolroom? I 
 tried to keep things simple," he explained, 
 when they came to the schoolroom, "but see!" 
 The plain desks were already partly carved 
 with great elaboration; the benches were cov- 
 ered with precious rugs; the walls were hung 
 
 102
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 with satins, on which in gold thread were em- 
 broidered mottoes from the Koran. "You see 
 they are making sure that any evil effects of my 
 teaching shall be exorcised." 
 
 Manlove noticed the child's high chair, cov- 
 ered with hand-woven cloth of gold, standing 
 on the platform beside the tutor's desk. 
 
 "You haven't babies, too, have you?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 "Only one little chap four years old. Some- 
 times I think he's the oldest one of the lot, 
 though." 
 
 "I had no idea they had such schoolrooms in 
 the palace." 
 
 "They did n't. I had to draw the design for 
 these desks, and the palace carpenters made 
 them. Of course I did not mean to have them 
 carved nor all that frippery on the walls. 
 The mothers sent the rugs and brocades." 
 
 "They're pretty little fellows, the princes, 
 are n't they? I suppose it's not to be wondered 
 at, since the mothers are chosen solely for their 
 beauty. Who is the little chap that sits up 
 beside you?" 
 
 "Bayazet is his name, and he, at least, is
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 better than pretty. In fact, if it did n't sound 
 ridiculous, I should say that he was one of the 
 most remarkable personalities I have ever met." 
 
 "H'm! Well, they'll probably manage to 
 stifle that before he's much older. What is in 
 the other room?" 
 
 "It's the music-room. Come and see it." 
 
 In this other room, besides the satins, the 
 precious rugs, the mother-of-pearl tables, and 
 some golden goblets, stood a piano, a harp, and 
 other musical instruments. 
 
 "It's a fortunate thing that I knew a little 
 about music," Lionel observed. "It's the one 
 thing they take an active pleasure in." 
 
 "You inherit that from your mother, Lionel. 
 I never have heard a professional whose playing 
 on the harp I liked as well as hers." 
 
 " She taught me. We used to play together a 
 good deal." 
 
 They sat down in the music-room, lighted 
 their pipes, and took the comfort in each other's 
 company which fellow countrymen find in a 
 foreign land. 
 
 "Who are your companions here aside 
 from the princes?" Manlove asked, still seeking 
 
 104
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 for some logical reason for the younger man's 
 apparent contentment. 
 
 "Lala Sheddin is my only social visitor. I 
 understand there used to be some other foreign 
 tutors; but he has got rid of them in one way 
 or another," Lionel replied, thinking of the fate 
 of the one whose curiosity had carried him 
 twenty-seven paces too near the women's gar- 
 dens. "There are, of course, scores of religious 
 teachers for the boys, but I can't say that they 
 have made any overtures to me. In fact, con- 
 sidering what a little city the place really is, 
 with all the Sultan's brothers and their families 
 and retainers, I have met singularly few per- 
 sons. About the only ones I have had to prac- 
 tice my Turkish on are the gardeners I see when 
 I go out for a stroll. Each man's life seems to 
 run according to the planning of some master 
 mind." 
 
 "Yes, Lala Sheddin's," Manlove said with a 
 nod. "He has been running the palace for close 
 on forty years now." Presently he added, in a 
 puzzled tone: "You seem so contented, Lionel." 
 
 "Did n't you expect me to be?" the younger 
 man asked, smiling. 
 
 105
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Oh, I expected you to make good, but to be 
 contented here, no, I can't say I did." 
 
 "You trusted me, and Lala Sheddin trusts 
 me. I don't believe you know how satisfactory 
 that is, after years of living under a cloud." 
 
 For a time they puffed at their pipes in 
 silence. 
 
 "Had your mother lived," Manlove said at 
 last, "it would have been different." 
 
 "If only father had n't insisted on my going 
 into the Church. The thought of making it a 
 profession, when I had no vocation for it, seemed 
 to rouse all the worst in me. Still, that was no 
 reason why I should have gone to the dogs." 
 
 "Well, you've come safely back, and you 
 may be a stronger man for having extricated 
 yourself. And I shall see to it that you don't 
 have to stay here indefinitely: I'm on the look- 
 out for a more congenial post for you, outside 
 the palace." 
 
 Dismay gripped Lionel at the prospect. "Er 
 I would n't trouble about that. The fact is 
 I 'd rather stay here for a while. It er pays 
 well, you know." He seized on the most tangi- 
 ble argument, and brought forth a roll of bills. 
 
 106
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Lala Sheddin paid me this morning, in ad- 
 vance, and asked me to get you to invest the 
 money in England in my own name, which he 
 does not wish to have identified with the name 
 I bear as tutor. I don't know why he made 
 these stipulations; but he usually has some 
 good reason for all he does." 
 
 "He knows your real name, then?" 
 
 "Yes. He asked me, and I told him. Will 
 you er repay yourself out of this the 
 money you lent me when I first came?" 
 
 "Quite so, and I will send the rest to Eng- 
 land. But you'll want to keep out something 
 for current expenses, won't you." 
 
 "The palace, apparently, attends to my cur- 
 rent expenses. Lala Sheddin gave me a purse 
 full of silver soon after I came, but I Ve hardly 
 touched it. Everything I ask for comes to me 
 without payment. The odd thing is that, as 
 nearly as I can make out, the person who gets 
 me what I want is the imperial cook." 
 
 Manlove broke into immoderate laughter. 
 
 "Yes, he would be the man to do it," he ex- 
 claimed, when he recovered his gravity. "You 
 have n't met him yet, I presume. Turkey is 
 
 107
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 certainly the place for incongruities. The cook 
 is a Greek of very high birth, and one of the 
 cleverest men in the empire. He has been gov- 
 ernor of various provinces, and a Councilor of 
 State. His hobby used to be food. To hear him 
 describe the cooking of some of the dishes he 
 invented was like listening to a poem; and if 
 you were lucky enough to be invited to eat one 
 of his dishes well, you knew how a poem 
 tasted. He used to say that food would be his 
 undoing and it was. One day he happened 
 to describe one of his dishes to the Sultan. The 
 Sultan commanded him to descend to his 
 kitchen and prepare the dish. After he tasted 
 it, he at once created the Greek head cook of 
 the palace." Manlove broke into fresh laugh- 
 ter at the thought. "The Sultan certainly 
 gained a good cook, though the State lost one 
 of its ablest men. However, he and Lala Shed- 
 din get along famously together, so perhaps the 
 State has lost the statesman in appearance 
 only." 
 
 "But does n't the Greek mind being reduced 
 to a cook?" 
 
 "Oh, no. It makes no difference in his social 
 108
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 position, and the whole thing is a huge joke 
 among the diplomats. As for Anton Effendi 
 himself, he says he has more money now than 
 he ever had before; for he receives his salary 
 punctually. If he does n't, he neglects the cook- 
 ing, and that is of far more importance to the 
 Sultan than if, as Councilor of State, he had 
 refused to attend to his duties. The Sultan can 
 run the government himself but he can't 
 cook." Manlove rose to go, and held out his 
 hand for the roll of bills. "How much is there ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 "A thousand pounds." 
 
 "A thousand pounds," the older man re- 
 peated slowly. "That's not bad especially 
 paid in advance." 
 
 He stood with the roll of bills in his hand, his 
 eyes narrowed, pondering. He had been so long 
 in Turkey that instinctively he searched for the 
 underlying motive. "I wonder if he paid all 
 his tutors at that rate?" he murmured. 

 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 No salary had been specified when Lionel 
 first came to the palace. The thousand pounds 
 he had entrusted to Manlove Pasha he had 
 supposed to be his salary for the coming year; 
 but six months later Lala Sheddin gave him 
 two thousand pounds more, with no explana- 
 tion, but with the same instruction for its safe 
 investment in England, 
 
 Again, six months after the second payment, 
 
 the eunuch haruifd to the Knglishman a fat 
 roll of bills. 
 
 "But I have already had my salary," stam- 
 mered LJoneL "You gave me a thousand 
 pounds a year ago, and then two thousand 
 more, and now this " 
 
 "Five thousand pounds sterling," Lala 
 Sheddin concluded with a nod. 
 
 "Really, I have already been overpaid," 
 Lionel protested. 
 
 "TTiere is no intrinsic value to any work," 
 no
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 the eunuch declared sententiously. "It is the 
 man who does the work who has the value. 
 Every day you are worth more to me, and what 
 I am able to pay you I do not consider enough. 
 When you leave here I wish you to be in a posi- 
 tion to live in your country as your father's son 
 should live. This only makes eight thousand 
 pounds placed in England to your name." 
 
 A feeling of dismay swept over the English- 
 man. " I thought I was to stay here a long time, 
 I I have become very fond of Bayazet. I 
 should like to stay here so long as he needs a 
 tutor." 
 
 Lala Sheddin waved his hand. <c Who are we 
 to guess what the future holds in store for us? 
 All we can do is to prepare. Money is the fuel 
 of life. It is well to have a great deal of that 
 fuel. Some day I may ask you to do something 
 for me." 
 
 It was not the first time that the eunuch had 
 dropped a hint of a service which the English- 
 man might be able to render him in the fu- 
 ture. Could Lala Sheddin be providing for the 
 time when something might go wrong and his 
 long control of palace affairs come to an end? 
 
 in
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Feinting, to find out if this might be so, Lionel 
 asked: 
 
 "Do you not ever wish to travel and see 
 something of the world?" 
 
 The eunuch smiled. "When a thought is 
 born in your brain, Lionel Effendi, tell it to me 
 straight. You think I give you this money so 
 that some day I may ask a part of it back from 
 you? Well, if the fortunes of life are uncertain 
 everywhere in the world, as our wise ones 
 tell us, how doubly uncertain must they be 
 here, where all depends on the whim of a man 
 who has never known what it was to curb his 
 whims." 
 
 After this Lionel had no compunction in 
 accepting the sums of money which Lala 
 Sheddin from time to time gave him. If he 
 could do anything to insure the comfort of 
 Lala Sheddin when finally his tact should prove 
 insufficient to meet some whim of his imperial 
 master's, Lionel was only too glad to do it; for 
 the passing time gave the Englishman a more 
 sincere liking and admiration for this sad-faced 
 being, who had so much power and so few 
 friends. 
 
 112
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 One day Lala Sheddin asked abruptly: 
 
 "Tell me, does Bayazet ever talk to you about 
 her?" 
 
 "Y-e-s, sometimes." 
 
 The eunuch remained silent a long time. 
 
 "You know she studies very hard with her 
 little son. That is why he always insists on 
 carrying his slate himself. He is afraid lest the 
 bodyguard may rub out some of the words. He 
 takes such pains with her. His manner is so 
 like yours, when you teach, that he might be 
 your son. Now we always speak English to- 
 gether, she and I, when we are alone. They live 
 very close to each other, those two isolated 
 
 ones." 
 
 "Is her life very lonely?" 
 
 " She never sees any one, except her women, 
 and Bayazet, and me. There are two eunuchs 
 whom I trust, who sleep outside the threshold 
 of her apartment." 
 
 "Has she no relatives no one who belongs 
 to her?" 
 
 "She has no one in the world but me," the 
 eunuch replied, his face softened. 
 
 "I suppose her parents are dead," Lionel
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 said tentatively, fearing lest he was showing too 
 great an interest. 
 
 "No one knows about them. She was found 
 as a year-old baby below the cliffs of the island 
 of Crete, after one of the Cretan uprisings had 
 been put down. On that unfortunate island, 
 when word comes to the women that their men 
 have been defeated by the Turkish armies, 
 they either set fire to a keg of powder in some 
 house where they all assemble, and blow them- 
 selves up with their babies; or, if they have no 
 powder, they hurl themselves from the cliffs 
 into the sea. Kizatesh Sultana must have been 
 thrown over the cliffs by her mother, and have 
 escaped by a miracle. A soldier found her at the 
 edge of the sea, playing with the water. He 
 carried her inside his coat to keep her warm, 
 and fed her with bread-crumbs and what milk 
 he could get. He brought her to his home, and 
 at the age of three, sold her to a great lady. 
 There, a few years later, the sister of the Sultan 
 saw her, was charmed with her, as all were, 
 and brought her here. She was a delightful 
 child, full of joy, laughter, and high spirits. 
 That is why they named her Kizatesh, which 
 
 114
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 means 'child of fire.' She was like a lighted 
 brazier, giving warmth and pleasure to all 
 around her. She could coax anything out of 
 anybody, and all the women used her to squeeze 
 privileges out of me for I was her slave from 
 the first. 
 
 "There never was a question of her being 
 destined for the Padishah; for although her 
 eyes were wonderful, she was small and slight, 
 and on the whole not beautiful enough for a 
 Sultan. Yet, on her fourteenth birthday, the 
 Padishah, spending an afternoon with his sister, 
 saw her, fell under her spell, and chose her to 
 be his wife. There was no chance of saving her. 
 Bayazet was born that same year, and her 
 foster mother, the Sultan's sister, died a few 
 months later." 
 
 The eunuch sat silent, looking before him, 
 vacantly. Finally he continued: "Some of the 
 Turkish laws protect women. One of these says 
 that when a woman is about to have a child she 
 shall not be molested and so long after the 
 birth of the child as she chooses to nurse it. 
 That law protected Kizatesh for almost two 
 years. And as the mother of an imperial prince, 
 
 "5
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 and therefore a sultana, she was given her own 
 apartments, her own allowance, her jewelry, 
 and her retainers. 
 
 "How strange it is," Lala Sheddin mused, to 
 himself rather than to Lionel, "that the little 
 girl whom no one thought beautiful enough for 
 the ruler should be the one he should choose 
 himself, and the one he should continue to want, 
 when he tires so quickly of all the others. At 
 the time of her marriage, Kizatesh was even 
 younger than her years, playing with her dolls, 
 and climbing the trees, and talking to the birds 
 and the flowers. She became a woman in a 
 night and a terrible woman. She rebelled 
 against that which to all other women was the 
 highest honor; and when two years later the 
 Sultan again presented his affections to her, she 
 refused to listen to him. 
 
 "Where she found the strength to resist, the 
 courage to dare and to fight for her freedom 
 against the man who by all the laws was her 
 husband, is beyond understanding. Entreaties, 
 jewels, garments all were of no avail. Then 
 the Padishah became angry. He swore that 
 she should be brought to her senses by other 
 
 116
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 means than love, since love failed. She was as 
 unmoved by his anger as she had been by his 
 entreaties. 
 
 "He gave me a dog whip, heavy enough to 
 kill a bulldog, and ordered me to go and beat her 
 me who would have given my life to bring 
 her lost laughter back to her lips. Things are 
 mixed up in the human heart; for in a way I 
 was glad also that it was to me he gave the 
 whip. Had he put it into the hands of another 
 eunuch, I believe I should have torn him to 
 pieces. 
 
 "I went to her room, the Sultan remaining 
 outside. Lionel Effendi, what would you have 
 done if you had been commanded to beat a 
 frail girl whom you had seen grow up, whom 
 you had carried on your shoulders, and whom 
 you loved like your own daughter?" 
 
 The knuckles of the Englishman's hands, 
 clutching the arms of his chair, showed white. 
 
 "I should kill the man instead," he answered 
 steadily. 
 
 "And if the man were your emperor, and 
 your master what then?" 
 
 Lionel sprang from his chair, and paced the 
 117
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 length of the room. He stopped before the 
 eunuch, and said hoarsely: 
 
 "Lala Sheddin, don't tell me that you beat 
 her." 
 
 "I ought not to have told you all this: it was 
 not kind," the eunuch replied. "Why should I 
 harrow your feelings for a woman who is noth- 
 ing to you?" 
 
 "You cannot stop now. Tell me what you 
 did." 
 
 "I went to her room, and, as I said, he sat 
 outside. He could not see us, but he could hear 
 us. By a sign I made her understand this, and 
 then I said to her: 'Kizatesh Sultana, my mas- 
 ter and your husband sends you his love, aftd 
 asks in return the love a dutiful wife owes to 
 her lord. If you persist in refusing, I shall have 
 to beat you with this whip.' 
 
 "She rose. 'Go tell your master that, al- 
 though I bore him a son, I have no love for him. 
 I was a child he made me a woman; but that 
 woman can never be his, as was the child. And 
 since I can have no love for your master do. 
 his bidding.' 
 
 "She was like a delicate flower, defying the 
 118
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 wind and the storm. He, from outside, cried, 
 'Beat her! Let me hear her cry!' 
 
 "I have known many dark days since I was 
 born. That one was the darkest. Her eyes, like 
 two stars, watched me, while he from outside 
 cried again, 'Beat her! Beat her!' I raised the 
 whip and struck her slight shoulders. She was 
 barely seventeen then, yet I knew that I could 
 have killed her by beating her, and no cry 
 would have crossed her lips. After the first 
 stroke, I turned the whip on my own legs, and 
 struck and struck and struck them, making 
 low moans, pretending that it was she who 
 cried. 
 
 "All the time I watched for the slightest 
 movement of the portieres. Thus, when he 
 came into the room I held the whip over her. 
 He strode to where she stood, her face so lifeless 
 and white that one would have thought it was, 
 indeed, she who had received the beating. He 
 took her chin in his hand. 'Dost thou like this 
 better than love?' he inquired. She did not 
 reply. ' This will bring thee to thy senses. This 
 will teach thee to love thy master.' 
 
 "'This will teach me to hate my master.' 
 119
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 She said it distinctly and fearlessly. Never in 
 his life had another spoken to the Sultan as she 
 dared to. He could not pretend he had not 
 heard. 
 
 " 'How many times must I have thee beaten ? * 
 he asked. 
 
 "'As many as it will take to kill me.' 
 
 "And I, looking at her white face and at her 
 large, dark eyes, more than ever like stars, won- 
 dered what made him want her. She was not 
 made for such as he. The beating brought no 
 results. He must have lain awake at night, 
 thinking up ways of tormenting her, but noth- 
 ing availed, and she kept her sweet self to her- 
 self. Separating her from her child the first 
 day you came to the palace was a master- 
 stroke. I feared he had at last found the right 
 weapon; I feared she would succumb. I had not 
 counted on Bayazet himself. You saw how it 
 ended; and now she will have some years of 
 peace." 
 
 Lionel raised his head and inhaled a long 
 breath. He touched his forehead with the back 
 of his hand and found it wet with perspiration. 
 
 "How did you manage it, Lala Sheddin?" 
 1 20
 
 THIS WILL TEACH ME TO HATE MY MASTER'
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 His voice was weak from what he had suffered 
 while listening to the story of the eunuch. 
 
 "Magic!" Lala Sheddin replied laconically. 
 " It is of great value to me that the Sultan's life 
 is sacred, and must be preserved even at the 
 cost of permitting others to escape their just 
 punishment. But time flies. In a few years he 
 will again be free to trouble her and he has 
 not forgotten her, as I hoped that he would. 
 Daily I have to report to him all that she does. 
 I have noticed his face at times when he sat 
 playing with his beads, I can usually tell 
 when he is thinking of her, and the diabolical 
 expression makes me shiver for her. To wait 
 for a woman nine years is a long time for a man 
 like him. 
 
 "Although I worry, she does not. She has a 
 childlike trust in her heart, and she sits up there 
 quite contented, with her son on her lap, learn- 
 ing from his childish lips the language of your 
 people. She believes implicitly in the great 
 Allah, who is going to help her to realize 
 her dreams for she has dreams, impossible 
 dreams, Lionel Effendi, that girl up there in her 
 little corner of the palace. They would stagger 
 
 121
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 the stanchest of brave men, yet she expects, as 
 I said before, with the help of the great Allah, 
 to carry them through." Rather to himself 
 than to the Englishman, Lala Sheddin contin- 
 ued : " I don't know perhaps there is a great 
 Allah. I never used to believe there was, but of 
 late I don't know I begin to think, from 
 certain things, that perhaps there is such a 
 force, and that perhaps the faith of that young 
 mother may be nearer the truth than my own 
 thoughts. The other day she said to me: 'You 
 may laugh if you like, Lala Sheddin, but I 
 believe those clouds we see up there in the 
 heavens are people's dreams traveling toward 
 Allah.' 'Foolish,' I answered, 'have you not 
 seen how clouds break up and nothing is left 
 of them?' 'Some do,' was her reply. 'Those 
 are selfish dreams which people make for them- 
 selves. But I have watched the heavens too 
 long, and though I have seen clouds disperse, I 
 have also seen others turn from dark to lighter 
 and lighter hues to pink and gold and 
 slowly rise till they are lost to sight. I know 
 that these are the dreams which do reach the 
 great Allah. My dreams used to be black 
 
 122
 
 full of sadness and despair; but now there is 
 light in them. Some day will come rosy hues, 
 and they will turn to gold, and will ascend 
 straight to the great throne.' 
 
 " I let her dream, Lionel Effendi. It would be 
 wicked to take the dreams from a girl's heart. 
 It is all she has, and as I said before her faith is 
 so great that I sometimes wonder if it can be 
 quite wrong. At any rate, in my old age she is 
 teaching me to believe in the great Allah me, 
 who, if I ever thought of him at all, thought 
 of him only to curse him."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 ON BOARD THE SHIMSHEK 
 
 THREE years had passed since Lionel Deguer- 
 ney, as Burton Adams, became tutor to the 
 Ottoman imperial princes. Manlove Pasha, on 
 his way to take luncheon with him, wondered 
 how Lionel could see the time slip by with such 
 apparent contentment. As a stop-gap for a 
 desperately poor man it had been all very well ; 
 but since then he had had several chances for 
 something better. There must be more to the 
 situation than met the eye. To-day he was 
 going to apply a test. 
 
 During luncheon the two men talked of cas- 
 ual things, of England, and of the English who 
 drifted out to the East. They knew that the 
 men serving them did not understand English,, 
 yet in Turkey the habit of mistrust becomes so 
 ingrained that it is impossible to throw it off. 
 With the coffee they were left alone, and when 
 they had lighted their cigars Manlove said: 
 
 "My sister has just died, Lionel." 
 124
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "I am very sorry to hear it." 
 
 "She was old and an invalid, and had been 
 awaiting her call for years." Manlove did not 
 try to pretend any great grief for the sister, 
 nearly twenty years older than himself, whom 
 he had not seen for many years. " It is n't her 
 death that is sad. It is the silence and the 
 emptiness of the manor." 
 
 "Shall you return to England? Of course, I 
 should miss you awfully, but " 
 
 "No, I've lived too long out here. I'm fond 
 of this dirty, beautiful Constantinople. It gets 
 into your blood after a while. I could n't live 
 anywhere else if I tried." 
 
 There followed a silence, while Manlove was 
 shaping the words of a proposition he was going 
 to make to the younger man. 
 
 "Lionel, the East is sort of a disease. I don't 
 want you to catch it. I want you to get out of 
 here. You've shown your mettle. When we 
 first met I told you that I knew your breed. 
 There was no doubt of you in my mind then : 
 had there been, I should feel satisfied now. I 
 may as well tell you," he said abruptly, "that 
 I intend to make you my heir. I've no near 
 
 125
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 relatives, and there's no entail on the old place, 
 so I can do as I like." 
 
 The news came so suddenly that Lionel could 
 hardly take it in. "That's awf ly good of you," 
 he stammered, tongue-tied as most Englishmen 
 are when they try to express deep gratitude. 
 
 "Not a bit of it," Manlove went on briskly. 
 "I'm doing it for my own pleasure. But here 
 is the point I am coming to : the manor needs 
 a young mistress and a young master, and the 
 echo of children's laughter. I want you to go 
 home, and, when you find a nice girl you like, 
 marry her. There 's plenty of money for both 
 of us : not the slightest reason why you should 
 wait till after I'm dead to begin enjoying it. 
 Besides, I want to feel that I have a family, 
 and that it is growing up; and it would be pleas- 
 ant to think I could run up to England any 
 time and find my room all ready for me. Now, 
 what do you say?" 
 
 "It it's awfully good of you," Lionel re- 
 peated. 
 
 "Then you will go?" 
 
 Lionel could feel the blood mounting to his 
 forehead. He cleared his throat twice. Man- 
 
 126
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 love, pretending to be examining his cigar, 
 watched him keenly. 
 
 "I I can't go just now," at length Lionel 
 blurted out. "I'm Lala Sheddin that is 
 to say, I have to stay on here for a while, you 
 know. Lala Sheddin has treated me uncom- 
 monly decently, and I know he counts on my 
 staying." 
 
 "H'm! Yes, he does seem to appreciate your 
 work," Manlove replied, assenting. "I sup- 
 pose it is difficult to get just the right man for 
 a place like this." 
 
 Lionel was too much relieved at escaping 
 from the subject of returning to England to 
 pay much attention to the other's unnaturally 
 easy acquiescence. Manlove let the matter 
 drop, as if it were of small consequence. Al- 
 though he had obtained for Lionel his present 
 position, and had just announced his intention 
 of conferring great benefits upon him, he did 
 not feel justified in fofcing a confidence mani- 
 festly withheld from him. Yet the uneasiness 
 about Lionel, which had been accumulating in 
 his mind, became still more acute. Why should 
 the boy be so averse to leaving the palace? 
 
 127
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 That the reason was pure devotion to pedagogy 
 never once entered Manlove's mind. What 
 other cause barring necessity would keep 
 a man like Lionel in such a situation? The ages 
 have given the answer a woman ! 
 
 The thought sent the gooseflesh creeping up 
 the admiral's spine. A woman in the palace 
 of the Sultan! To such a situation there could 
 come only one end: the death it might be 
 through torture of this young man whom he 
 had come to regard as a son. Manlove had gone 
 far in the world, quite as much by paying no 
 attention to what was no concern of his as by 
 strict attention to what did concern him. Now 
 he laid aside his principles without a qualm. 
 By interference he might not only gain no 
 thanks from Lionel himself, but he might make 
 a bitter enemy of some woman some sultana 
 even who would find a subtle means of re- 
 venging herself upon him. 
 
 Of all this tumult in his mind he gave no 
 sign. He smoked on as placidly, chatted as 
 indifferently, as if he were interested in nothing 
 beyond the brand, of cigar he was smoking. 
 When he rose to go, he asked casually: 
 
 128
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "When are you coming to see me again?" 
 
 "I can't tell. You know Lala Sheddin does 
 n't approve of my asking for a leave of absence 
 often." 
 
 "It's three months since you last took a trip 
 with me on the yacht. That is n't very often. 
 I '11 speak to him about it and see if he has any 
 objection to your coming the end of next week." 
 
 "That would be jolly. And er you 
 know how grateful I am for all you are doing 
 for me." 
 
 "Oh, that's nothing." Manlove waved away 
 the subject. "It gives me as much pleasure as 
 it does you. Well, good-bye." 
 
 According to instructions he had received, 
 Lionel never accompanied his friend. As Man- 
 love was walking away from the pavilion, he 
 was joined by Lala Sheddin. 
 
 "How do you find your young friend?" the 
 eunuch asked. 
 
 "He seems well and happy. I think that an 
 occasional change would be good for him, 
 though." 
 
 "Did he speak about it?" Lala Sheddin 
 asked, with a note of anxiety in his voice. 
 
 129
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "He said nothing about it to me, but I am 
 sure it would be good for him. This restricted 
 life is quite a change from what he has always 
 been used to." 
 
 The head eunuch considered the matter 
 thoughtfully. "Perhaps it would," he muttered. 
 "Perhaps it would even be wiser if from time 
 to time he went away for a few days. Yes, you 
 are right." 
 
 " I suggested a day on my yacht, next week, 
 to him, and he seemed pleased with the idea. 
 Would that suit your plans?" 
 
 "He shall come. But don't forget that it 
 would be well if your friend and the imperial 
 tutor should not be associated in the minds of 
 others as the same person." 
 
 Manlove nodded assent, and took his leave. 
 
 These same instructions Lala Sheddin im- 
 pressed again upon Lionel, when he gave him 
 leave of absence at the end of the following 
 week. 
 
 Manlove received his guest with more than 
 his accustomed cordiality, on welcoming him 
 aboard his yacht. 
 
 "Sorry we can't start out at once. Some-
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 thing has gone wrong with the engines," he 
 explained. "It isn't often I'm caught like 
 this. I suppose it has to happen now and then 
 to remind me that the Shimshek sails under 
 the Turkish flag." 
 
 The delay did not trouble Lionel at all. He 
 did not even mind when, an hour later, the 
 engineer came up to report that the engine 
 would not be in order in time to steam through 
 the Dardanelles before sunset, when all move- 
 ment of ships had to end. 
 
 "We'll have to spend the night at anchor 
 here, instead of in cruising among the islands," 
 Manlove said regretfully. "But we'll make an 
 early start, and be ready to pass through the 
 straits just as soon as the sunrise opens up 
 navigation." 
 
 "Don't bother on my account," Lionel re- 
 sponded. "I'm quite happy here. You can't 
 imagine what a lark it is to me just to be out- 
 side the walls enclosing the palace grounds." 
 
 "Why don't you come out for good? You're 
 wasting yourself in there, my boy." 
 
 Again Manlove noticed the constraint that 
 came over Lionel at mention of this topic; but
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 he did not pursue the subject further, much to 
 the relief of the younger man. 
 
 The yacht was rather a luxurious little craft. 
 It had four staterooms and mounted two quick- 
 firers. On occasion it performed the duties of 
 a revenue cutter, and it was in quite the most 
 ship-shape condition of any of the Sultan's 
 ships. 
 
 A lovely cloudless evening followed the long, 
 warm afternoon. They had dinner on deck, 
 with McVey, the captain of the yacht, a tall, 
 taciturn Scotchman, who took no part in the 
 conversation, and left them as soon as the meal 
 was over. With the eagerness of a boy Lionel 
 watched all the characteristic sights about him : 
 the slim caiques, with their picturesque Turkish 
 boatmen; the heavier barges, manned by de- 
 scendants of the Crusaders, who, in spite of the 
 centuries that have passed, still speak their 
 native Genovese. Constantinople, which daily 
 sees the tribes of all the earth, assuredly is not 
 the melting-pot: in it every nationality clings 
 to its own language and customs with time- 
 defying tenacity. 
 
 With delicious Turkish coffee and good cigars, 
 132
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 the night sank upon them. The seven hills of 
 Constantinople were but ill-lighted, while old 
 Stamboul across the way showed a solid dark 
 mass, with ghostly minarets rising above it. 
 The light in the Tower of Galata alone burned 
 brightly. 
 
 While not reverting to the plan he had pro- 
 posed at their last interview, Manlove led the 
 talk back to old England, to "home," its quiet, 
 satisfactory pleasures, and its endearing land- 
 scape : he almost talked himself into a wish to 
 return to England; but through it all Lionel 
 gave no sign that he was similarly moved. 
 There was always the assumption, of course, 
 that some time, in the future, he would return; 
 but it was that future whose confines do not 
 overlap the edges of the present. If Manlove 
 hoped to melt the young man's heart with 
 homesickness, he failed signally. 
 
 They sat up very late. Once or twice Lionel 
 asked if he were not keeping his host up too 
 long. 
 
 "No, don't let's go to bed yet. Such nights 
 are not to be wasted in sleeping. Besides, we 
 can snooze as late as we like in the morning. I 
 
 133
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 always break my early rising rules on these little 
 cruises. Sometimes I don't even get up for 
 luncheon." 
 
 It was three o'clock before they went to bed, 
 and the chill of the night air made Lionel glad 
 to dive under the bedclothes. He slept like a 
 top. Once he became dimly conscious that the 
 engines were throbbing, and knew that the 
 yacht was under way. A long time afterwards, 
 it seemed to him, he half-wakened. His cabin 
 was still dark, and he turned over and again 
 plunged into delicious slumber. 
 
 When finally no more sleep remained in him, 
 he was surprised to find his cabin still dark. He 
 peered forth from his berth and discovered that 
 a heavy covering of some kind was hanging down 
 outside his porthole, keeping out the light. "Very 
 thoughtful of Manlove," he ruminated, and felt 
 under his pillow for his watch. "Whew!" It 
 was past eleven. He sprang out of bed and 
 dressed hastily. 
 
 Out in the saloon the cabin boy was indus- 
 triously cleaning, and gave him a cheery 
 greeting. 
 
 "The admiral up. yet?" Lionel asked. 
 134
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "No, sir, I have n't seen him," the boy re- 
 plied. "I have orders, sir, not to waken him. 
 I will bring you your breakfast, sir, directly." 
 
 Lionel ate his breakfast with an excellent 
 appetite and went on deck. The yacht was 
 steaming steadily toward the west, and he won- 
 dered whither they were bound. He sauntered 
 forward to McVey, to make some inquiries. 
 The replies of the Scotchman were so short 
 and non-committal that they bordered on rude- 
 ness, and Lionel decided to bother him no 
 more. 
 
 Luncheon was eaten by the two in determined 
 British silence. Then Lionel stretched himself 
 out in a steamer chair, to doze the time away 
 until Manlove should appear. The hours passed 
 pleasantly enough, if monotonously, until the 
 striking of seven bells warned Lionel that it 
 was half-past three, with no sign either of Man- 
 love's appearance or of turning back. He be- 
 came uneasy now on his own account. He had 
 understood that the yacht was to return to- 
 night to Constantinople. While no navigator, 
 it seemed certain to him that they had barely 
 time to return to the Dardanelles before sunset; 
 
 135
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 and it was a good long stretch from there to 
 Constantinople. 
 
 Since McVey was so unapproachable he de- 
 cided to go down and rout out Manlove himself. 
 
 He rapped on the door. 
 
 There came no response. 
 
 After knocking three times, he tried the 
 handle. It turned, and Lionel entered. 
 
 Manlove was not in the stateroom, nor was 
 there any sign of its having been occupied. For 
 twenty seconds Lionel stood dumbfounded ; then 
 he made his way swiftly to Captain McVey. 
 
 As the latter perceived the young English- 
 man's impetuous approach, the ghost of a smile 
 flickered over his face. 
 
 * "Where is Manlove Pasha?" Lionel de- 
 manded sternly. "And where is this yacht 
 bound?" 
 
 "WeVe cleared for Piraeus, the port of 
 Athens," McVey replied coolly. "As for the 
 admiral's whereabouts, I canna tell ye that; 
 but he bade me gie ye this, when a suitable 
 time should arrive." 
 
 He took a sealed letter from his breast pocket, 
 and handed it to Lionel.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE PACT 
 
 WHEN on the fourth day Lionel failed to 
 return to the palace, and Lala Sheddin' s mes- 
 sage to Manlove Pasha only elicited the reply 
 that his excellency was detained at home by 
 illness, Lala Sheddin decided to begin an inves- 
 tigation. He easily appeased the languid curi- 
 osity of the princes about the cause of their 
 tutor's absence. Bayazet alone wrathfully re- 
 fused to accept any excuse, and to him the 
 eunuch promised to go and bring back "his 
 man." Then he ordered a carriage, and for the 
 first time in his life left the precincts of the 
 palace. 
 
 Manlove Pasha knew the habits of Lala 
 Sheddin. He was correspondingly astonished 
 to find himself, in his own sitting-room, face 
 to face with the eunuch. 
 
 "Hullo, Lala Sheddin! What chance brings 
 you here?" His tone was a trifle too bluff and 
 hearty. 
 
 137
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "You did not expect me?" Lala Sheddin 
 asked suavely. 
 
 "Expect you! Why should I?" 
 
 "To inquire after your health. You are not 
 often ill." 
 
 "Oh, I 'm quite fit again. I was just knocked 
 up for a day," Manlove said airily. 
 
 Lala Sheddin, unbidden, settled himself com- 
 fortably in a big armchair, and pointed to an- 
 other chair near his. 
 
 " Sit down, Manlove Pasha, and tell me where 
 Lionel Effendi is." 
 
 "Lionel Effendi! Didn't he return to the 
 palace, after our little cruise?" The English- 
 man's surprise was an admirable imitation. 
 
 The eunuch gave the other man a slow, con- 
 templative look. "You played the wrong card, 
 my friend, in the beginning. Had you come to 
 the palace when I sent for you, you might have 
 pretended with a certain amount of success that 
 you did not know where Lionel Effendi was. 
 Now I have come here to find out where he is 
 and you are to tell me." 
 
 Manlove Pasha had not much confidence 
 in the possibility of hoodwinking Lala Shed- 
 
 138
 
 THE^GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 din, yet he continued "to play the wrong 
 card." 
 
 "Why do you think that I know where Lionel 
 Effendiis?" 
 
 "Because you do." 
 
 "As a matter of fact, I don't." 
 
 Lala Sheddin pondered this a few seconds. 
 "From your calculations, then, where do you 
 think that he ought to be?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 Lala Sheddin became lost in thought. When 
 he spoke again it was with a slow earnestness 
 that impressed the Englishman with his entire 
 sincerity. 
 
 "There is no man living who loves Lionel 
 Effendi better than I. Perhaps you, Manlove 
 Pasha, know how it feels to be the father of a 
 son. I have dreamed of mine: when that boy 
 came to the palace, the son of my imagination 
 became alive in him." After a pause, the eunuch 
 went on: "You see, you need not be afraid. 
 Tell me, why did you take him away?" 
 
 "Lala Sheddin, I will not fence with you any 
 more. I was frightened. It did not seem to me 
 natural that a young man of his breeding should 
 139
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 be willing to pass his life as a tutor when other 
 openings were offered him. I know you pay him 
 well, but several months ago I offered him a 
 position which could not help being far more 
 attractive to a young man than the one he now 
 holds. He refused it. The other day I told him 
 that my sister was dead, and that I meant him 
 to be my sole heir. I wanted him to return to 
 England, marry, and live as a man of his class 
 should live. Not only did he refuse to do this, 
 but he told me that he must stay on here for an 
 indefinite period. Well, what I had suspected 
 became a certainty in my mind, after that. I 
 knew that there must be some woman in his 
 life and that woman was in the harem of the 
 Sultan. You know as well as I the dangers of 
 such an intrigue. A minute ago you spoke of 
 the love you had for Lionel. If that is so, you 
 ought to be glad that I am trying to save him 
 in spite of himself." 
 
 "My friend, you have made a mistake," Lala 
 Sheddin said, slowly and impressively. "You 
 have judged the boy by the standard of ordi- 
 nary men. He is not remaining in the palace 
 moved by the desires of an ordinary man. No! 
 
 140
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 No! You have made a mistake. You said, just 
 now, that you were trying to save him in spite 
 of himself. Then you did not talk this over with 
 Lionel Effendi? He did not agree to leave?" 
 
 "No; but I am in hopes that by this time he 
 will have come to his senses and will do as I 
 have begged him to do." 
 
 "At what time and by what means did he 
 leave Constantinople?" 
 
 "He left by water, the night he dined with 
 
 me." 
 
 "Where was he to be landed?" 
 
 "At Piraeus." 
 
 "If he does as you wish him to do, he will 
 return to England from there?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "If he does not then he comes back here? 
 And if he comes back, will you again try to take 
 him away when I tell you there is no intrigue?" 
 
 "Lala Sheddin," Manlove Pasha said ear- 
 nestly, "will you tell me what keeps Lionel in 
 the palace ? " 
 
 The eunuch did not reply at once, and into 
 his lined face crept the light of a rare expression, 
 which only a few persons had ever seen. What 
 
 141
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 was human and kind and divine became alive 
 in him. The Englishman marveled at what he 
 saw. 
 
 "There are things in life," said the eunuch 
 slowly, "which are so elusive that they cannot 
 be put into words. That which keeps Lionel 
 Effendi in the palace is such a thing. Ordinary 
 men could not understand it: if it were put 
 into words to them, they would only laugh it to 
 scorn. Other men might give their lives for it; 
 for it is a dream a dream which makes life 
 infinitely more worth while than the possession 
 of a woman of the greatest beauty. Don't take 
 from the boy that which makes his life what it 
 is. There is work in the palace work to be 
 done only by such as he. If there should ever 
 be danger for him, I swear that I will send for 
 you. But now, let him come back to me. I am 
 a lonely old man. That boy brought into a bare 
 life all the riches of the world. I need him." 
 
 These two men had both been young when 
 first they had met. Lala Sheddin then had been 
 the trusted servant of the late sovereign. Man- 
 love Pasha had seen the star of many a man 
 rise in glory and set in gloom. Lala Sheddin 
 
 142
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 had been the only one on whose horizon there 
 had been neither glorious rising nor any setting. 
 The Englishman admired him for his astute- 
 ness, for his brain, and above all for the way he 
 handled his power. As the possessor of heart 
 and feeling, such as he was exhibiting at this 
 moment, he was a man new to the Englishman. 
 
 "Very well, Lala Sheddin, let us wait and 
 see what comes of my experiment. If Lionel 
 returns to England, of course that ends the 
 matter. If he comes back here, I promise not 
 to interfere again." 
 
 "He will come back, and I will keep my word 
 to you. If ever I send you a red handkerchief, 
 come to the palace, for you will be needed." 
 Lala Sheddin rose, and started to leave the 
 room. At the door he hesitated; then turned: 
 "Are we quite safe from eavesdropping in this 
 room?" 
 
 "I believe so. But if what you have to say 
 demands greater secrecy, we can go into my 
 own room." Manlove locked the door of the 
 room they were in, then conducted the eunuch 
 to his sleeping-chamber. "We are now quite 
 safe, as you see. These windows give on the
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 garden. On this side is my dressing-room, and 
 there is my study." 
 
 The eunuch went into both rooms and in- 
 spected them carefully. He came back and 
 took his seat close to the Englishman. 
 
 "How did you send Lionel to Greece? In 
 your own yacht?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The eunuch meditated a minute. "It's not 
 very large, is it just an ordinary pleasure 
 craft?" 
 
 "Yes; but it can go from here to Gibraltar, 
 to the Azores to England, if necessary." 
 
 "H'm!" Again the eunuch became lost in 
 thought for a considerable time. He had faith 
 in Manlove Pasha's character. During Sultan 
 Medjid's peaceful reign and the intriguing one 
 of his present master, he had learned, of all the 
 foreigners in Constantinople, to trust the Eng- 
 lish most. He pondered long; then raised his 
 eyes and looked straight into Manlove's. 
 
 "You must love Lionel Effendi very much, 
 indeed, to make him your heir, and then to 
 dare play with his personal liberty. Lionel 
 Effendi, in spite of his quiet ways, does not 
 
 144
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 strike me as a man with whom it is wise to trifle. 
 The roughing he did for a few years must have 
 added to his capacity for taking care of him- 
 self." 
 
 Though Lala Sheddin stopped speaking, the 
 Englishman said nothing. He waited for the 
 man from the palace to continue. On his side, 
 Lala Sheddin's eyes never left the face of 
 Manlove. 
 
 "Supposing, Manlove Pasha, that an occa- 
 sion should arise in which Lionel Effendi were 
 obliged to leave the palace hastily; and sup- 
 posing he were to leave it, let us say, with a 
 man of my size. Would it be possible for two 
 such men to hide on your yacht, and to pass 
 through the Dardanelles, even if the authorities 
 were to make a thorough search of the vessel?" 
 
 "It would not." 
 
 "It would not be possible now, as the yacht 
 stands; but could it not be made possible? 
 Could not, for example, a compartment be 
 built, with double walls, and such a door that 
 only the ones who know of it could find?" 
 
 It was Manlove's turn to scrutinize the coun- 
 tenance of Lala Sheddin. " Since you wish to
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 utilize my yacht, don't you think it would be 
 wiser if you took me into your confidence?" 
 
 "If the occasion should ever arise, I would 
 take you into my confidence. But will you not 
 have such a compartment built before I take 
 you into my confidence?" 
 
 "A minute ago you told me that Lionel was 
 not in danger. You even swore, I believe, that 
 there was no intrigue going on and now you 
 intimate that both these things exist. Lala 
 Sheddin, I have given you my promise not to 
 interfere with Lionel, if he should return. I gave 
 you that promise because you deceived me. 
 Now I take it back. Something is afoot in which 
 Lionel is involved. I have been here forty years. 
 It is a country that loves plots, and I have never 
 yet known a plot whether it succeeded or 
 not that was not drenched in the best blood. 
 I shall not become a party to anything that I 
 do not understand; and what is more I mean 
 to interfere with Lionel, even if I go to the 
 length of asking the Sultan to dismiss him." 
 
 Lala Sheddin smiled. "You are not a wise 
 man, my friend, to tell me this. Supposing I 
 were to believe you, do you think you would 
 
 146
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 have an opportunity of seeing my master 
 again?" 
 
 The Englishman winced. In the forty years 
 that he had known Lala Sheddin, this was the 
 second time the head eunuch had shown his 
 strength. He remembered what had happened 
 the first time. A Teuton, whose influence with 
 the Sublime Porte had begun to spread its 
 shadow over the rest of the diplomats, had 
 crossed Lala Sheddin's path. He left Constanti- 
 nople: his trunks followed later. 
 
 While Manlove Pasha was thinking over 
 these things, the eunuch was watching him in- 
 tently. 
 
 "Between us stands a young man whom we 
 both love. Do you think it wise for us to be- 
 come enemies and to try to crush each other? 
 No matter which one of us falls, Lionel Effendi 
 will be the loser. He will have to go on with his 
 task without one of us and he needs us both. 
 You and I must stand together for his sake. 
 Lionel EfTendi will return to the palace as soon 
 as he can make his way here from Athens. The 
 occasion I mentioned may never arise. How- 
 ever much we scheme, plan, and prepare, there 
 
 147
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 is a hand which seems to guide our destinies, 
 and that hand may move us away from our 
 schemes, plans, and preparations. Yet I believe 
 it wise to prepare according to our present lights. 
 All I ask of you now is to build a place in your 
 yacht where two men could hide and escape the 
 most rigid search the authorities might make. 
 Why can you not do that? It does not involve 
 you in any danger, nor does it pledge you to 
 any scheme." 
 
 " Confound the man ! " thought Manlove. " I 
 wonder if he is planning to leave the palace?" 
 Yet the thought comforted him. So long as 
 there was no woman in the plot it seemed safer. 
 
 "How soon do you think you will need that 
 compartment?" 
 
 "I may never need it." The eunuch waved 
 his hand. "That is one of the many things 
 which I like to know are ready. It is best that 
 it should be on your yacht. There are spies 
 everywhere, and you have a good reputation." 
 
 "H'm! You do not mind playing with my 
 reputation. And shall you expect me to be on 
 the yacht when the two men sail on it?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. I count on that." 
 148
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 The Englishman grunted. "And why do you 
 think I shall lend myself to your schemes, Lala 
 Sheddin?" 
 
 " In the first place, because you pushed your- 
 self into them by abducting Lionel Effendi ; and 
 secondly, because you are an Englishman. You 
 Englishmen love big risks: it goes with your 
 quiet natures and your orderly habits. You are 
 not good talkers, and the pleasure others find 
 in talking, you take out in doing things. I can 
 see now by your eyes that you are already a 
 party to my schemes. You have not pledged 
 your word, but your soul is pledged, and that is 
 better." 
 
 "Confound you, Lala Sheddin, that's all I 
 can say. I shall be a miserable pariah if I have 
 to be exiled from Turkey. It's the most inter- 
 esting piece on the international chessboard, 
 and it's likely to become more and more inter- 
 esting. And here you wish me to get mixed up 
 with something that I do not even understand, 
 and lose all the excitement, for somebody else's 
 gain." 
 
 Lala Sheddin nodded. "Yes; that's the Eng- 
 lish of you. You will do it faster for somebody 
 
 149
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 else's gain than you would for your own. I 
 have not been studying men for half a century 
 to be mistaken now. I have always liked you. 
 I have felt that beneath the capable official 
 you were what women would call roman- 
 tic." The eunuch smiled. "As a matter of fact, 
 I never knew an Englishman a nice one, I 
 mean who was not romantic. The only diffi- 
 cult thing is to make you admit it. So now you 
 will have that compartment built." 
 
 "That is, of course, if Lionel should return." 
 
 Lala Sheddin rose. "If Lionel Effendi left 
 Greece, he would be back here when?" 
 
 "To-day, I suppose." 
 
 "Then I shall find him at the palace."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 KIPRULI ALI 
 
 As the carriage bore Lala Sheddin back to his 
 formidable post, in a world apart from other 
 worlds, it was characteristic of him that he did 
 not take the trouble even to glimpse this new 
 world into which circumstances had put him 
 for an hour or two: he was a man of single 
 purpose. 
 
 The eunuch had declared that Lionel would 
 return, and he believed it. Manlove Pasha had 
 promised that he would not interfere again, and 
 Lala Sheddin trusted his word. Yet in spite of 
 his faith in the two Englishmen, he was trou- 
 bled. He knew the happenings of life to be 
 complex and inexplicable: in life's tricks he had 
 no faith. "I shall only feel at ease when I see 
 my boy's face," he murmured. "My boy I" 
 He tasted the joy of the words with closed eyes, 
 his hands clasped on his knees. 
 
 The broad shoulders of the young English- 
 man were what he first saw when he stepped
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 from his carriage, Lionel's carriage having pre- 
 ceded his by only a few seconds. 
 
 "Oh, my boy!" cried the eunuch. "I knew 
 you would come!" 
 
 "I was delayed. I am sorry," Lionel an- 
 swered. 
 
 Lala Sheddin shook hands with him warmly. 
 "I know everything. I have just returned from 
 Manlove Pasha's. Go to your pavilion now, 
 and I will join you presently." 
 
 A half-hour later they were comfortably set- 
 tled in Lionel's sitting-room. 
 
 "You said that Manlove Pasha had explained 
 the cause of my absence to you?" 
 
 "Quite satisfactorily. He got frightened, 
 and dared a great deal, believing he was doing 
 you a service. Now, tell me how you got back." 
 
 "There's not much to tell. We went to the 
 Piraeus, much against my will and then we 
 came back. Manlove Pasha had entrusted a 
 letter to Captain McVey for me. As soon as I 
 read it, the second day out, I tried to make him 
 turn around at once. He replied that he had 
 orders to take me to Greece, ' so that I should 
 have time to think it over.' I tried everything 
 
 152
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 on him, from bribery to curses. His only answer 
 was that he must obey orders and he did." 
 
 At this instant the door was flung open and 
 Bayazet burst in, followed by his bodyguard; 
 he threw himself into his tutor's arms and cov- 
 ered him with tempestuous kisses. Thereafter 
 he drew away, and looked frowningly at the 
 Englishman. 
 
 "My man, why did you stay away so long?" 
 
 "It was unavoidable, Bayazet." 
 
 "What did you say 'un'voi'ble'?" 
 
 "Unavoidable," Lionel repeated. 
 
 "Una unavoibable ? " 
 
 "No; unavoidable." 
 
 "Unavoidable! I do not like that word. It 
 kept you away from us. We were very anxious 
 up there, and a word which makes her anxious 
 is an ugly word. Take it out of the language. 
 I command it." 
 
 " I cannot take it out of the language, Bay- 
 azet," Lionel replied, smiling, "but I shall try 
 not to have to use it again. Now, am I for- 
 given?" 
 
 "I shall forgive you; but you must never stay 
 away again because of 'unavoidable.' Why 
 
 153
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 should you go away at all, my man? / never go 
 away from here." 
 
 Lala Sheddin laughed at the imperious airs 
 of the little prince. "Don't you think you had 
 better go back, now? It is getting dark." 
 
 Bayazet jumped down from the lap of the 
 Englishman and menacingly approached the 
 eunuch. 
 
 "You go back, at once!" he ordered. "I de- 
 cide to stay here and eat with my man. You 
 go back and take my bodyguard with you. Tell 
 the sultana, my mother, that I salute her, and I 
 stay with my man to eat, since the desire takes 
 
 me." 
 
 Lala Sheddin rose. "Very well, I go; but I 
 shall come back for you soon after the meal." 
 
 The boy stamped his foot and shook his head, 
 his long, dark curls dangling over his shoulders. 
 "Are you ordering me ? I shall go when I choose, 
 and you go at once, without more words." 
 
 Lala Sheddin glanced at the tutor, smiling, 
 salaamed very low, and departed. When the 
 door closed behind him, Bayazet burst out 
 laughing, and clapped his little hands with 
 pleasure. 
 
 154
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Did n't I make him obey well?" He came 
 and perched himself upon the Englishman's 
 knees, put one arm around his neck, and clasped 
 a big hand with one of his small ones. "Now 
 we are alone together. I did not know I loved 
 you so much till you did not come back. The 
 days were long and sad without you, and be- 
 sides, the sultana, my mother, was made un- 
 happy. You must not make her unhappy again, 
 my man. She was not herself while you were 
 away, and we both prayed to the great Allah 
 to bring you back. I am not going to let you 
 go again and you are not to go unless I give 
 you leave." 
 
 Lionel gave the child a hug. He wanted to 
 ask him more about his mother, but did not 
 dare. He only said : " I am unhappy when I am 
 away from here, too." 
 "Then, why did you stay so long?" 
 "I told you before that it was unavoidable." 
 "Write the word. I shall show it to my 
 mother, that she, too, may know the reason." 
 Lionel put down the child and went over to 
 his desk. On a sheet of notepaper he wrote: 
 "My absence was unavoidable. I am sorry if it 
 
 155
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 caused you pain." He was deeply moved at 
 the thought that with her own eyes she was to 
 read his written words. He was so moved that 
 he did not stop to consider whether this was a 
 wise thing to do. 
 
 Bayazet took the missive and read it slowly; 
 then folded it and carefully put it into his little 
 pocket. 
 
 "I am glad you are sorry, and that you say 
 it to her. My man is her man, too, if I let him 
 and I am going to let you." With a quick 
 movement he sprang upon the tutor's knees. 
 "Now that you are back, she, and you, and I 
 all three are happy." 
 
 The Englishman gave the child another 
 squeeze. "Bayazet, I can never be happy away 
 from here," he said. In this privacy he dared 
 be a little sentimental. 
 
 There was deep joy in the large eyes of the 
 boy. "I shall tell her that," he said, nodding 
 his head. " She often asks me if you are happy 
 here, or if you want to go back to your own 
 country." 
 
 "Tell her that I shall not leave here, so long 
 as she wishes me to stay." 
 
 156
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "My man, you said those words as if you 
 were praying to Allah." 
 
 "Did I?" And the Englishman relaxed. 
 
 They had supper together. Bayazet, in his 
 emulation of the simplicity of English life, ate 
 only bread and butter and milk. Lionel shared 
 the same fare, to the huge delight of the boy. 
 It was a gay meal, for all its meagerness, and Lala 
 Sheddin and the bodyguard arrived all too soon. 
 Bayazet frowned portentously at their arrival. 
 
 "The sultana, your mother, sends me," said 
 Lala Sheddin smoothly. " She is worrying, and 
 you had better go to her." 
 
 The boy rose at once. He salaamed to his 
 tutor, and the two men returned the salutation. 
 The bodyguard lifted the little prince in his 
 arms, and by the way the tall, stalwart Albanian 
 held the child one could see that his little charge 
 was very dear to him. After they were gone, 
 Lala Sheddin came over and put his hand on 
 the Englishman's shoulder. 
 
 "I wonder if you know how glad I am to 
 have you back again." Without waiting for an 
 answer he went on: "Manlove Pasha is here. 
 He wishes to see you." 
 
 157
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "May I see him?" 
 
 "Yes, you had better." 
 
 The eunuch went away and presently re- 
 turned with Manlove Pasha. "You may spend 
 the night here," he said. "The man of Lionel 
 Effendi will arrange a bed for you. Now I will 
 bid you good-night." 
 
 As soon as they were alone, the older English- 
 man came to the point, without beating about 
 the bush. 
 
 "There is no use my asking you to excuse the 
 liberty I took with you, Lionel. I had to. I was 
 frightened." 
 
 "There is no need of your saying anything 
 about it. On the contrary, I appreciate and 
 thank you for the interest that you take in me. 
 And I hope you don't really mind my coming 
 back." 
 
 "N no. You know that I have seen Lala 
 Sheddin. He assures me that my fears are 
 groundless, and that there is no danger such as 
 I had imagined. Yet there is something out of 
 the ordinary on his mind : he is preparing for a 
 possible emergency. Were you aware of that?" 
 
 "In a vague way." 
 
 158
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "You have no idea for what contingency he is 
 planning?" 
 
 Lionel shook his head. 
 
 "Yet when that emergency arises, he means 
 to call on you." 
 
 "I'm glad he does." 
 
 "Do you know that there is danger in his 
 plan that he expects the Porte to interfere? 
 He asked me to have a secret compartment 
 built on my yacht, in which two men could 
 elude the most rigid search of the Government." 
 
 Two pairs of steel-gray eyes met. The two 
 Britons were trying to fathom each other's 
 souls. They had the air of a pair of hunters, 
 resolute and formidable. They were two good 
 specimens of Albion's best that best which 
 cannot be beaten anywhere in the world. 
 
 "Are you going to have that compartment 
 made?" Lionel asked* quietly . 
 
 "Y-e-s. But what I want to know is this: 
 Are you going tacitly to become a part of Lala 
 Sheddin's scheme, without knowing anything 
 about it?" 
 
 "What did Lala Sheddin tell you about it?" 
 
 "Nothing, beyond the fact that he would 
 159
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 like to know that such a compartment existed 
 on my yacht." 
 
 "Yet you are going to have it made?" 
 
 "Yes," the older man grumbled. 
 
 " You lend yourself to Lala Sheddin's schemes 
 without knowing more than I do. Then you 
 expect less of me than you are ready to give 
 yourself?" 
 
 "By having such a compartment made I am 
 not risking my life while you may be asked 
 to risk yours." 
 
 "I don't mind." 
 
 "But do you expect your friends not to 
 mind?" 
 
 "To risk one's life is honorable. To risk one's 
 honor is dishonorable. Yet we always make a 
 great fuss over the first, while we let those we 
 care for go to the gutter without raising a finger 
 to help them." 
 
 "You are right, Lionel. I ought to have come 
 to you years ago, and not have waited for Fate 
 to bring you here." 
 
 "I beg your pardon! I was not thinking of 
 you and me; I was just thinking generally. I 'm 
 exceedingly happy here. In a vague way I know 
 
 160
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 that some day my services may be needed for 
 something I do not yet understand, but which 
 I feel it will be worth risking my life for." 
 
 "What makes you think that?" 
 
 "Because Lala Sheddin is a rare man. I can- 
 not imagine his letting me in for anything un- 
 worthy. It makes me feel proud to be trusted 
 by him. In a way my self-respect is increased 
 just because he has chosen me to help him." 
 
 "H'm!" The monosyllable ended the dis- 
 cussion. 
 
 Manlove Pasha spent the night at the pavil- 
 ion, and he went away the next morning by 
 boat, without going up to the palace. This the 
 eunuch had suggested, and he met Manlove 
 on his way to the landing. He slipped a pack- 
 age into the Englishman's pocket. "There are 
 ten thousand pounds in this package. Please 
 put them in Lionel Effendi's name. Now that 
 you are with us, I can give you directly any 
 sums that I can spare, and you can have them 
 placed in his name." 
 
 "You seem to be paying my young friend a 
 pretty handsome salary," Manlove observed. 
 
 The eunuch shrugged his shoulders. "There 
 161
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 are many people in the palace who are getting 
 salaries they do not at all deserve. I take a 
 little from each of them and give it to Lionel 
 Effendi, who is worth all and more than he 
 gets." 
 
 When he disembarked at Galata, the English 
 pasha made his way toward the European city, 
 through the Turkish quarters so little known 
 to casual tourists. In one of the narrow streets 
 he met three carriers, walking abreast. The 
 middle one had a grand piano on the little sad- 
 dle on his back. The other two were there to 
 be ready in case of emergency, and to see that 
 no one jostled him and threw him off his bal- 
 ance. It was not an unusual sight, but one 
 which always excited the admiration of the 
 Englishman. He looked at the big bent man, 
 walking rhythmically along, balancing the 
 great burden so beautifully on his tremendous 
 shoulders as to render the services of the other 
 two unnecessary. 
 
 Directly in the way of the great carrier a spar- 
 row was picking up crumbs in the street. The 
 man made a slight detour to avoid disturbing 
 the sparrow. The Englishman was so touched 
 
 162
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 by the thoughtful little act that he bent to see 
 the man's face. Half-hidden though it was, it 
 somehow seemed familiar, though he could not 
 remember where he had seen it before. 
 
 From his bent position the carrier glanced 
 up, and then called cheerily from under his 
 burden: "Good-morning, your excellency. How 
 is his young excellency, yur friend? Tell him 
 that he took care of my wound so well that it 
 healed more quickly than I ever knew a wound 
 to heal." 
 
 At the words Manlove Pasha remembered 
 that this was the carrier whom Lionel had at- 
 tended on the first day of his arrival in Turkey. 
 
 "My young friend is very well, and he still 
 remembers you," the Englishman replied. An 
 inspiration came to him. He turned, and 
 walked beside the carrier. "Do you know," he 
 went on, "I never tasted such coffee as you 
 gave us that day. You fellows have the best of 
 everything. If you should ever invite me to 
 partake of your luncheon again, you would 
 not have to ask me twice." 
 
 "You are invited now, to-day, by me, Kipruli 
 AH, who is pleased to call you his friend." 
 
 163
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "I am proud to be called a friend by Kipruli 
 AH, and I shall be there at noon." He touched 
 his fez with his fingers, and turned into a 
 side street, and then up another, and gradu- 
 ally mounted the hill leading to the European 
 quarters. 
 
 The midday hour found Manlove Pasha at 
 the tiny coffee-house where the carriers were 
 assembling for their meal. Kipruli Ali received 
 his distinguished guest hospitably, but not 
 vaingloriously. At heart the Turks are the only 
 really democratic nation in the world. They 
 value a friendship more because of the man 
 than because of the position the man occupies. 
 That is why one can often see a great pasha 
 sitting with a fisherman and partaking of the 
 latter' s hospitality, without condescension on 
 the pasha's part, without pride or humility on 
 the fisherman's part. 
 
 The only difference the carrier had made in 
 his meal to-day was that he had a big stool, 
 covered with a clean red handkerchief, which 
 served as a table. The food was exactly what 
 he would have eaten had he been alone. There 
 is an innate nobility in the Turk which makes 
 
 164
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 him simple. The admiral and the carrier ate 
 and conversed together as if they had been of 
 the same social stratum, and for that reason 
 both had a very good time. When the meal was 
 over Manlove Pasha presented the carrier with 
 a gaudy waistcoat, to procure which had caused 
 him two hours' labor that morning; for he had 
 had to go to a special shop in a special quarter 
 where the carriers buy their clothes. 
 
 Kipruli Ali was ravished with the sight of the 
 waistcoat. "Is this for me?" he asked. 
 
 Manlove Pasha nodded. "My young friend 
 sends it to you." 
 
 From this they fell to talking more about 
 Lionel. "Is he quite well and prosperous?" the 
 carrier asked. 
 
 "Quite well, quite prosperous, but a lover of 
 risks. Some day he may need a strong friend." 
 
 Kipruli Ali's face lighted with pleasure. He 
 tapped his chest with his fist. "Is this strong 
 enough?" he asked. 
 
 "It may be a dangerous risk," Manlove 
 Pasha said, assuming a mysterious air. 
 
 The carrier winked. "A lady?" he inquired. 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 165
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 :j-u ' 
 
 The carrier tapped his Breast with his fist, 
 clapped his hands together, touched his head 
 and his legs, and closed his eyes. 
 . "All his with eyes shut," he said. 
 
 Manlove Pasha laughed. "You are a man, 
 Kipruli AH, and I would rather trust you than 
 six others. I shall tell my friend exactly what 
 you have said." 
 
 "Tell him that in my heart and my head I 
 am his, any year, any day, any hour lunch 
 time not excepted." 
 
 Manlove Pasha nodded, well pleased. He did 
 not know exactly how it might be possible to 
 utilize the strong arms of Kipruli Ali, but he 
 felt that such an ally, sent by Providence itself, 
 should not be disdained. When he rose to bid 
 his host good-bye, he said casually: "Come and 
 break bread with me some time." 
 
 The carrier was delighted. 
 
 " Come next week, a week from Wednesday. 
 Meet me by the Galata Bridge. I will take you 
 out to my boat, and we can have our food there." 
 , They salaamed and parted. 
 
 At the appointed place they met, a week 
 later. Kipruli Ali, having never before been on 
 
 166
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 a yacht, 'exhibited a childlike delight in all its 
 contrivances. Manlove took him all over it, 
 enjoying the big man's pleasure. They ate and 
 smoked by the starlight, unhampered by other 
 people, and while the yacht steamed up the 
 Bosphorus, they talked of Lionel again. 
 
 "Where is the young effendi now," Kipruli 
 Ali asked, "and when is he going to be in a 
 scrape?" He winked at the Englishman. His 
 eyes were big and bright, and by the starlight 
 he looked very strong and handsome, indeed. 
 "Scrapes," he said, inhaling a deep breath, as 
 if he could smell them, " scrapes and fights 
 they are the joy of life. And when they are 
 about a woman well, they are a joy in the 
 blossom. I should like to be in a fight by the 
 side of the young effendi." He half-closed his 
 eyes with a mysterious air. "The young effendi 
 is made to turn the heads of all women. I should 
 say they would come willingly to him. Why 
 should he need help?" 
 
 "The lady might be guarded." 
 
 The Turk clapped his hands and laughed 
 gleefully. "But I should love to be in a scrape 
 with the young effendi," he repeated. 
 
 167
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Suppose, then, that you and I do not lose 
 sight of each other; and if we ever need you, 
 we shall know where to find you." 
 
 Kipruli Ali's shoulders looked about a yard 
 and a half broad, as he squared them. "You 
 know where to find me," he said. 
 
 Manlove Pasha contemplated the sturdy 
 form of his guest with grim satisfaction. "Lala 
 Sheddin is not the only one," he thought, "who 
 likes to know that certain things are in readi- 
 ness which may never be used. If the guiding 
 hand beckons to me, it shall not find me un- 
 prepared." 
 
 A few days later Manlove asked for a short 
 leave of absence, and steamed off in his yacht 
 to Italy. He commanded her himself, giving 
 McVey a vacation. At Brindisi he gave all his 
 crew a week's leave of absence on shore. Then 
 he went to see a noted cabinet-maker of the 
 town. 
 
 When the crew returned to the yacht they 
 noticed a smell of fresh paint; but they ob- 
 served no other difference about her.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 "WHO AM i? OH, I'M ONLY " 
 
 IT was Friday, which is the Turkish Sunday, 
 and Lionel was free from school duties. He 
 awoke early, and wished he had slept longer. 
 Of late he had come to dread the weekly recur- 
 rence of these days of inaction. On every other 
 day he was so busy that he had no time for 
 thoughts; on Fridays his thoughts sometimes 
 could not be controlled. 
 
 It was a warm spring day. A jasmine vine 
 had clambered luxuriantly over one corner of 
 the railing of his upper porch, pushing aside a 
 pale-pink climbing rose. The starlike flowers 
 added their subtle perfume to the heavier one 
 of the rose. The sweet scents seemed to increase 
 the restlessness of the young Englishman. A 
 mood of discontent held him in its grip this 
 morning, a discontent subtle yet strong, like 
 the scent of the jasmine. He felt homesick 
 yet he did not wish to return to England. 
 Rather the thought of doing that opened up 
 
 169
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 a dreary vista before his mind's eye. He felt 
 lonely, and longed for something he had not 
 for something that would rest his body and 
 soul. Before his servant called him to breakfast 
 he went out on the porch outside his sleeping- 
 room, which was walled in on one side by the 
 thick, interlacing branches of the mass of trees 
 between him and the haremlik of the palace. 
 For one mad moment he laid his hand on a 
 branch, and thought of climbing into the trees, 
 and making his way from one to another until 
 he should come to that latticed building which 
 men dared not approach. Then he gave a short 
 laugh, as he regained his sanity. He recalled the 
 other tutor, who ventured twenty-seven steps 
 too near the women's gardens, and whose career 
 had ended abruptly, then. Lionel was as loath 
 as any sane man to risk his life for nothing. 
 Definitely now, however, he knew for what he 
 longed. 
 
 The jasmine with her starry eyes; the rose 
 with the bloom of her cheeks; the vital spring 
 morning all had been trying to tell him. And 
 he had not understood had not understood 
 that every fiber of his being belonged to a wo- 
 
 170
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 man beyond this mass of trees, a woman whom 
 he had seen only once, and who legally was the 
 wife of an autocrat whose whim was law. Sud- 
 denly, on this spring morning, his love for her 
 flared up from the smouldering brands which 
 long had been growing in strength. He no 
 longer could ignore it; and with it there swept 
 over him a wave of impotence: he felt small, 
 helpless less than an insect or a worm; for 
 they at least could crawl toward what they 
 wanted. With acute misery he became aware 
 that he craved the girl up there in the palace, 
 whom he could neither see nor speak to. He 
 gripped the railing of the balcony. Does the 
 soul curse in its agony, or does it pray; or does 
 it curse and pray in the same breath? Lionel 
 did not know which he did. He was hungry and 
 thirsty for that woman, little more than a child, 
 with the heart of an eagle and the courage of 
 a lion. Standing rigid, his hands still gripping 
 the railing of the porch, his imagination lashed 
 him into daring deeds. He brushed away the 
 screen of tall trees, broke through the forbidden 
 lattices, and entered her room. And their eyes 
 met and spoke, and the red of her lips was 
 
 171
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 reflected in the dark of her eyes, and gave to her 
 face, which he had seen so pale and stern, color 
 and beauty, and to him all the desires of life. 
 
 As if the tempest in his heart broke the spell 
 of the perfect day, a dark cloud in the west 
 began climbing up the heavens, like a huge, 
 devouring spider. The threatening heavens 
 called to Lionel. Without waiting to eat, he 
 ordered to be saddled that one of the horses at 
 his disposal of whose temper he was least sure 
 a dapple gray from the desert. By the time 
 it was brought, another bank of clouds from 
 the east was mounting high into the heavens, 
 until there remained only a narrow strip of blue 
 sky between the threatening masses. Lionel 
 welcomed the oncoming storm. What if the 
 clouds were to burst and deluge him? Revolt 
 against the restraint of his life held him: he 
 craved the pelting rain. So he rode on and on, 
 watching the clouds rapidly becoming thicker 
 and more menacing. 
 
 There came a crash, as if one of the battalions 
 of clouds had opened its artillery on the other; 
 and the sky above became the great Armaged- 
 don. The storm was wonderful in its terrifying 
 
 172
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 noise: terrible in its beauty of darkness and 
 light, and light and darkness. 
 
 The dapple gray had been restive at the out- 
 set of the ride. He was now galloping along like 
 a leaf before the storm, with the terror which 
 forgets that line and bit were meant to guide 
 and curb. His blood, refined by long descent, 
 was capable of greater extremes than is the 
 blood of common horses. It became untamed 
 and wild as the storm itself. 
 
 They reached the woods near the end of the 
 palace enclosure, and through the trees the sea 
 gleamed, angry and wrathful at the disturbance 
 above. A fiery bolt fell straight down from the 
 heavens into the sea, as if to punish her for 
 daring to be displeased at their combat. The 
 bolt fell where a schooner was battling to gain 
 its port. Instantly it was a mass of flames, a 
 ghastly and wonderful spectacle in the midst 
 of the crashing thunder. 
 
 At the terrific crackling detonation, the gray 
 lost all semblance of sense. He veered, and, as 
 if he had been blinded by the lightning, crashed 
 through a thick cedar hedge. By a miracle he 
 passed through it without losing his footing, 
 
 173
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 yet the half-yielding mass of thick branches had 
 stopped his impetus; and before he could gather 
 speed again, a hand seized the bridle, while a 
 voice, soft and caressing in the midst of the 
 storm, spoke soothingly to the horse. There 
 seemed to be something mesmeric in the tone 
 of the voice, in the touch of the hand, slim and 
 bejeweled, for the gray, instead of plunging and 
 trying to break loose, stood still, shivering, his 
 head low and pressed against the man who had 
 stopped him. 
 
 The Englishman slid from his saddle. In- 
 deed, now that the exhilaration of the mad ride 
 and its dangers had somewhat passed from him, 
 he was glad to be safely off the back of his 
 dangerous steed. It had all happened so quickly 
 that only now had Lionel time to take note of 
 his rescuer, in the dim light of the storm. Under- 
 sized, slender and graceful, one would have 
 thought him a boy, except for his beard, and 
 his long silky mustaches, from which the rain 
 dripped. 
 
 "I say, I believe you saved my life," Lionel 
 said, speaking instinctively in English. 
 
 "Perhaps; but you see it was not written 
 174
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 that you should die," the other replied, with a 
 marked accent, but in excellent English. "So 
 here you are, alive for the moment, though 
 drenched to the skin and still being drenched. 
 However, the best part of the storm is at an 
 end. There will be isolated cannonades, and the 
 rain will continue to fall, but the main battle 
 is over. It is not worth while staying out any 
 longer." 
 
 "Yes, I've had quite enough for one morn- 
 ing. I fancy I 'd better lead my horse back. He 
 might take it into his head to bolt again." 
 
 "You are entirely too far from your part of 
 the palace grounds to think of walking back, 
 Mr. Adams; and if I know the Arab he will 
 dislike turning back. He will go ahead, if you 
 choose, but he has the blood which takes turn- 
 ing back as a defeat. So come with me. We are 
 right at my pavilion, and I have warm bever- 
 ages for you, and a shelter for your horse." 
 
 "Thank you. That sounds better than walk- 
 ing all the way back through the rain." 
 
 They led the still trembling horse between 
 them, while the rain, now coming down more 
 straight and steady, had the rhythmic step of 
 
 175
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 a marching army. The pavilion before them 
 was much larger than the one occupied by the 
 tutor. At the door the man clapped his hands, 
 and two richly attired Anatolians appeared. 
 " See that the horse is soothed and rubbed down 
 -till he is himself again, and then put a light 
 sheet on him," he ordered; then turned to the 
 tutor: 
 
 "Come, my friend, you need treatment as 
 well as your horse. A bath may seem superflu- 
 ous after our drenching; nevertheless, it will 
 take out any possible chill." 
 
 They went through a richly furnished hall, 
 up a flight of stairs, directly to the bathing- 
 house. Two other attendants appeared, and in 
 a minute they were divested of their dripping 
 clothes, and were enjoying the luxuries of a 
 Turkish bath. After the bath, his host offered 
 the Englishman an Oriental bathrobe so silky 
 and fluffy as to seem suitable only for a coquet- 
 tish woman. The other wrapped himself in a 
 similar garment, and the two men passed into 
 a small room, so like a woman's boudoir that 
 the Englishman felt uncomfortable at finding 
 himself there. 
 
 176
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "I am sorry my dressing-gown is so short for 
 you; but I am afraid, my friend, that you are 
 over seven feet tall." 
 
 The Englishman laughed. "I'm barely six," 
 he replied. 
 
 "That is quite sufficient to make it impossi- 
 ble for me to clothe you, since I am barely five 
 feet two in my shoes." 
 
 After settling himself comfortably among the 
 innumerable pillows on his divan, he clapped 
 his hands, and a man answered the summons. 
 
 "My medicines, please; and since the gentle- 
 man here is also afraid of catching cold, he will 
 partake of the same." 
 
 "Yes, your excellency." 
 
 "Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Adams. 
 Put that rug over you, where my dressing-gown 
 lacks adequate length." 
 
 The rug was of double plush, unmistakably 
 from London, and Liberty's. He himself 
 wrapped his diminutive person in a rug of rich 
 golden brown, which matched the robe he was 
 wearing. The incongruity of his beard and mus- 
 tache, with his thick brown hair, which was 
 long enough to give the illusion of a woman's 
 
 177
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 head, and above all the feminine luxury of the 
 man's room repelled, and at the same time 
 fascinated, the Englishman. Who was the man ? 
 Undoubtedly he was a personage. There was 
 that about him which bespoke blood, refine- 
 ment, culture, and above all, financial ease. 
 And how wonderfully he spoke English; yet the 
 musical tones of his voice deprived the language 
 of its virility they made it a language for 
 women and children, instead of what it essen- 
 
 . ,, . | r Sto-JU**-* -f *> 5Jt*-v-dt*A <J~*. 
 
 tially is, a language for men.^juu-wv^Su 
 
 The servant appeared with a tray on which 
 were two black bottles. On the one was written 
 "Irish," on the other "Scotch." Beside them 
 stood a white siphon bottle. The servant placed 
 the tray on a richly inlaid table between host 
 and guest. On another table he put four 
 glasses. 
 
 With gravity the host inquired: "Which one 
 will assist you best not to catch cold?" He 
 spoke in Turkish for the benefit of the non- 
 drinking Mohammedan, who stood erect, his 
 arms crossed on his breast. 
 
 "Scotch, thank you." 
 
 "Pipes," said the host. 
 178
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 The man prepared them, salaamed, and went 
 from the room. 
 
 "I hear that you are not provident enough 
 to keep such preventatives in your pavilion. If 
 you will permit me, I will take pleasure in 
 stocking you up with some. Mine come directly 
 from England England, the home of men." 
 
 Lionel almost laughed to hear him speak thus 
 of "men," while waving his beautiful hand, 
 whereon flashed a fortune in diamonds and 
 rubies. Yet something saved the man, in spite 
 of these incongruities; it was the eyes his 
 luminous, intelligent brown eyes. 
 
 "You have been to England?" Lionel asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I was educated in England, and I 
 entertain for your country great admiration 
 and profound respect. And because of that, I 
 like every Englishman more or less. You are 
 a very good example of what an Anglo-Saxon 
 ought to be. I have liked you from the first, 
 and have been waiting for opportunity to bring 
 us together. I had to wait quite a long time 
 but as part of eternity three years is a 
 very short time." 
 
 "Then you have seen me before?" 
 179
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Oh, yes. Ever since you came to the pal- 
 ace. I like to see you ride, and sometimes I 
 have walked near your pavilion, to hear you 
 sing. You are a paradox, Mr. Adams. You are 
 every inch a man, and yet you seem content to 
 live here like a French virgin in a convent." 
 
 Lionel blushed. The remark was in decided 
 bad taste. 
 
 The other threw back his head and laughed. 
 "I see you blush, my friend. How British! 
 And how I envy you how I wish I were an 
 Anglo-Saxon. And yet I should miss being my- 
 self, too, miss it terribly." He raised his 
 glass, and drained its contents with gusto. 
 
 More than ever Lionel would have liked to 
 know who the man before him was, but his 
 Britishness kept him from asking. 
 
 "I think your race a marvelous race," the 
 host continued. " It lacks the Gallic spirit, it is 
 true; but it possesses fire underneath its calm 
 exterior." 
 
 "Every nation has its good side," Lionel 
 replied. "I am learning that here." 
 
 "How much did you know of the East, Mr. 
 Adams, when you came here?" 
 
 1 80
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Nothing at all, and I cannot say that I 
 know much yet." 
 
 "You ought to learn the history of Constan- 
 tinople from its very beginning, when it was a 
 small colony of Constantine Bysas, before the 
 Roman legions swept" down upon it and from 
 Greek Byzantium turned it into Roman Con- 
 stantinople. Then follow it three hundred 
 years later, when the spirit of Greek culture 
 again predominated, and changed the Roman 
 Constantinople back into a Greek Empire. 
 Follow its history from one period to another, 
 until, in the fifteenth century, the mantle of 
 Islam was flung over it all." 
 
 As the man talked, his spirit seemed to de- 
 tach itself from its environment and to live in 
 his eyes alone. There was nothing ridiculous 
 about him now. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Adams, there is no history so in- 
 tensely beautiful and so human as the history 
 of Constantinople. To the average person, 
 Constantinople is the city of the Sultan 
 picturesque, unkempt. To the average diplo- 
 mat, it is a place of intrigue. To the average 
 monarch, it is a piece of booty. But to the stu- 
 
 181
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 dent of civilization and history, Constantinople 
 is an intellectual mine. In its glory as a Greek 
 Empire, great poets, great orators, great rulers 
 succeeded one another. It was here, within the 
 walls of St. Sophia, that John Chrysostom made 
 his famous speech on Vanity, while Ypatos 
 Eutropius, in his night-clothes only, crouched 
 beneath the holy altar, trembling before the 
 infuriated mob, which, like an unchained beast, 
 with snarling teeth and nostrils snuffing blood, 
 sat waiting for Eutropius. You can hear John 
 Chrysostom addressing the loathsome brutes 
 before him: 'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.' 
 He points out to them the once powerful man, 
 now barely covered with his night-clothes, and 
 continues: 'Where now is the splendor of this 
 trembling man? Where are his fine clothes? 
 Where the power he had? All are gone! Noth- 
 ing is left but a weak and defenseless fugitive, 
 clinging to the holy altar.' And as he talked 
 with his 'honeyed tongue' the infuriated mob 
 gradually became human, and one by one they 
 left St. Sophia, no longer bent on killing the 
 man who had oppressed their souls. Ah, Mr. 
 Adams, a country with such spiritual power 
 
 182
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 cannot go under. The Asiatic hordes can con- 
 quer such a city. They can turn St. Sophia into 
 a Turkish mosque. They can coat with white- 
 wash the pictures of the Christian saints; and 
 they can build minarets on her old churches, 
 from which the muezzin call the followers 
 of Islam to prayer. They can surround Con- 
 stantinople with the pomp of the Califs, and 
 make of it the capital of Turkey; but make it 
 Turkish never! Conquered, humiliated, out- 
 raged, sacked and burned, Constantinople still 
 breathes Greek life; for those who spoke the 
 language of Chrysostom, those who discovered 
 in their souls the secret of immortality, are its 
 rightful possessors. They are the watchers be- 
 side the bleeding soul of Greek civilization. The 
 world thought that the Greek soul had died 
 with Constantine Paleologos; but those who are 
 watching beside it know that it can never die. 
 The Turks have lived here for five hundred 
 years, but they have only been camping they 
 have neve*r been able to take root; and being 
 unable to take root they have lost the superb 
 qualities which made the Turkish race what it 
 was in Asia." 
 
 183
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 He leaned over and tapped the Englishman's 
 arm. "That is what ails the Turkish nation to- 
 day. They feel themselves aliens and outsiders 
 in the capital of their own empire. Their salva- 
 tion lies in the East: they must go back to Asia, 
 and start over again to become strong as they 
 once have been. There is much that is good 
 and great in their nation; but the Asiatic seed 
 will not grow in Greek soil. Come with me some 
 night, Mr. Adams, out on the ramparts of old 
 Byzantium. There in the silence of the night 
 you will hear the moaning of the Greek soul. 
 You will hear her calling to her children to rise 
 and free her from the bondage she has been 
 under for five hundred years." ~ 
 
 He shook his head and smiled. "I talk non- 
 sense, Mr. Adams, but to know Constantinople 
 you must breathe her aroma, you must see be- 
 neath her veil. And I will give you other illus- 
 trations of the truth of what I say about the 
 futility of trying to transmute one nation into 
 another. Has Austria ever been able to make 
 Italy Austrian or any of the other alien races 
 she governs? Has Poland whether she be 
 German or Russian ever forgotten that she 
 
 184
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 is Polish? Has Alsace forgotten that she is 
 French; or has great England managed to make 
 the nations, which form the vital organs of her 
 body, -English? I have traveled extensively 
 through Great Britain, and I have found Ire- 
 land to be Irish, Scotland, Scotch, and Wales, 
 Welsh, although they are a part of the most 
 civilized country of the white race. If England 
 fails, how can any other country succeed? No; 
 the national ideals, such as they may be, need 
 their own soil." H 
 
 -*** * cw-^c-^Jr tL'+JLr*-*****-^*" -*"t<-Vv<4fc^ I, 
 
 More intently than ever he continued : " Con- 
 stantinople is the point where ethical civiliza- 
 tion received its first great check. A great soul 
 is kept here bleeding; and until the world breaks 
 these chains and gives to each soul, great and 
 small, the freedom to live its own national life, 
 we shall continue to be a world of hatreds, ene- 
 mies, intrigues, and wars. Have I talked too 
 much, Mr. Adams? You see, I had to try to 
 entertain you while your clothes were being 
 dried, and the only tale I know well is the one 
 I have just told you." 
 
 He laughed, becoming again the complexity 
 he had been. "I like England," he went on, 
 
 185
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "and, as I said before, I like the English. I 
 should like to be your friend, and help you to 
 understand things." 
 
 He extended his hand toward a panel, on 
 which was painted a gay little Watteau shep- 
 herdess. He pressed an invisible spring, and 
 the panel flew open, disclosing several shelves 
 filled with books. 
 
 "These are what no man may own, openly, 
 in Turkey. In them is the spirit of Greece 
 of civilization. If you care to know them, come 
 and spend some hours with me, and I will take 
 you step by step into their contents. When you 
 know their secrets, you will know immortal 
 things." 
 
 He pressed another spring, and the panel 
 shut, and all that remained of the books was 
 the gay little shepherdess of the Watteau panel. 
 
 Unable to keep the question back any longer, 
 the Englishman exclaimed: "Who are you?" 
 
 "Who am I? Oh, I'm only the imperial 
 cook."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A NIGHT ON THE RAMPARTS 
 
 Thank you. 
 
 Kizatesh. 
 
 In these three words the mother of Bayazet 
 replied to the note Lionel had written her. The 
 English came to him with a thrill, though he 
 had known that she was learning it from her 
 son. 
 
 This was the beginning of an irregular cor- 
 respondence, which meant more in the tutor's 
 life than any other single factor. What if it 
 concerned itself mainly with the education of a 
 small boy? Through it, he and she learned to 
 know each other, almost as if they had been 
 able to meet and talk together. Their letters 
 were short. Now and then a word, a phrase, gave 
 Lionel a glimpse of Kizatesh's inner self of 
 her exquisite personality. In one of her letters, 
 she begged Lionel to get her some books of the 
 history of the world, that she might not be so 
 
 187
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 ignorant, and might second him in the instruc- 
 tion of her boy. Thus, for her sake, he became 
 a reader and student of books, which he pro- 
 cured through the help of Anton Effendi, the 
 imperial cook, and which then reached Kizatesh 
 Sultana through Lala Sheddin. The eunuch 
 made no objection to this unlawful knowledge 
 filtering into the palace. In this process of 
 education, the one-time diplomat and states- 
 man, and present imperial cook, played no small 
 part, and Lionel became his pupil, even as he 
 himself was the teacher of Bayazet and of 
 Bayazet's mother. The peculiarities of Anton 
 Effendi no longer bothered him. His effeminate 
 ways, his occasional lapses from good taste, 
 receded, and Lionel saw only the man's great 
 intellect and superb scholarship. 
 
 With these interests, and with the friendship 
 of Manlove Pasha and of Lala Sheddin, the 
 years slipped by with a contentment that was 
 almost happiness. 
 
 After Lionel came to know Anton Effendi 
 well, he found out that the burning dream of 
 the man was his patriotism for Greece. One 
 evening Lionel was calling on Anton Effendi, 
 
 188
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 when the talk touched on Athens. At the 
 word the cook's face seemed to become all eyes, 
 as it did whenever he was absorbingly inter- 
 ested in anything. "I do not like Athens," he 
 said with a shiver. " I am always unhappy there 
 
 I have the feeling that I am walking on a 
 corpse. Even the Acropolis seems to me dead 
 
 without life and spirit. For a long time I 
 could not discover the cause. I know it now. 
 I found it out while walking on the ramparts of 
 old Byzantium. Athens is without soul. It is 
 Greece in body, in form; but the soul is here. 
 When that is set free, the Acropolis will come 
 to life not before." He sprang from his seat. 
 "Mr. Adams, come with me to-night out 
 on the ramparts of old Byzantium. Then you 
 will understand." 
 
 "I should like to; but I have not asked per- 
 mission. There would be trouble to get out 
 
 and we might not be able to get back at 
 all." 
 
 "Come!" repeated Anton Effendi. "There 
 will be no trouble. I must show it to you." 
 
 Lionel followed him, resolved, if the gate- 
 keeper made any objection, to return to his own 
 
 189
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 quarters. But Anton Effendi did not go toward 
 the gates : he went in the opposite direction. It 
 was a brilliant moonlight night. They walked 
 toward the wooded end of the palace enclosure, 
 till they reached a mass of laurel bushes grow- 
 ing thick along the wall. Stopping for an in- 
 stant, and looking about him, to make sure no 
 one was observing him, the Greek plunged in 
 among the laurels, crouching down, so that he 
 was entirely lost to view. 
 
 With difficulty the tall Englishman followed 
 his example, and they squirmed their way to- 
 ward the wall. On reaching that they turned 
 to the left for about twenty yards, till they came 
 to a small door in the wall, hardly four feet 
 high. In the uncertain light which filtered 
 through the laurels it looked very old and quite 
 disused; but Lionel noticed that when the 
 Greek inserted a key in the lock it turned 
 smoothly as if well oiled. 
 
 Anton Effendi pushed open the door a foot, 
 against something on the other side which re- 
 sisted his push, and the two men squeezed 
 through. On the other side a luxuriant growth 
 of ivy covered both the door and the wall, and 
 
 190
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 when the former was in place again, it became 
 entirely lost under its dense covering of vine. 
 
 "How ever did you manage to find this way 
 of leaving the palace?" Lionel asked, straight- 
 ening up his tall figure with relief. 
 
 "In an old rabbit warren like the palace, 
 there are always secret ways of getting about. 
 I spent three weeks after I took up my per- 
 manent residence here in examining the 
 walls of the palace before I came upon this. 
 Apparently it had n't been used for years, and 
 I spent another week pouring oil into the lock. 
 And then " He stopped and laughed. "I am 
 about to commit an indiscretion, and all be- 
 cause you have inspired in me a confidence 
 which, alas! I fear none of my own country- 
 men could have inspired. I am going to confess 
 to you one of my accomplishments that no 
 other living person knows about. I am a lock- 
 smith. I have a small, secret room fitted up 
 with an interesting collection of tools. No one 
 goes there. I believe they think I am something 
 of an alchemist and it. does not hurt my 
 reputation to have them think so. There I 
 spend many pleasant hours, when tired of 
 
 191
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 books, in studying and dissecting all kinds of 
 locks." 
 
 "But why should you make a secret of it?" 
 Lionel asked. 
 
 "Locks play a more vital part in the life of 
 the East than they do in that of the West. You 
 only lock up your gold: we lock up our women. 
 Thus, locksmithing is lifted out of the prosaic 
 realm of Business into the glory of Romance. 
 The lock is the endeavor of man to keep, with- 
 out striving, what he only won by strife. And 
 the futility of it the weakness of that whole 
 spirit which seeks merely to conserve is ex- 
 emplified by the fact that, with a bit of wax 
 and a day's time, there is not a lock in the 
 ^ Sultan's palace to which I cannot fit a key." 
 
 "No wonder you don't want your accom- 
 plishment known," Lionel said. 
 
 Anton Effendi chuckled. "I tumbled into 
 enough trouble through my talent for cooking. 
 If my taste for locksmithing were discovered, 
 it might conduce to* my own considerable in- 
 convenience. They are a suspicious lot, these 
 Orientals. I doubt if they could comprehend 
 an abstract interest in the subject." 
 
 192
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "How did you happen to take up this fad?" 
 
 "Praise be to Allah that I did. But for it, 
 my movements would often be more circum- 
 scribed than I should like as to-night, for 
 example. There is a boat-landing not far from 
 here where we can get a caique." 
 
 After a half-mile walk they reached the land- 
 ing, where a row of boats rested on the water, 
 fastened by short ropes to iron rings in the 
 landing. The Greek pulled in the first boat by 
 the rope, peered into its depths; then stepped 
 into it and shook the sleeping forms of the 
 cai'quetchis in the bottom. "Wake, my friends, 
 and take us to the Golden Horn." 
 
 The men picked up their oars with alacrity, 
 and Anton Effendi and the Englishman settled 
 themselves comfortably in the stern. They dis- 
 embarked at one of the villages. All the world 
 seemed plunged in a great silence, and only 
 once did they meet the night watchman, with 
 his lantern and his heavy stick, patrolling the 
 unlighted streets. Beyond the village they 
 climbed the hill, the houses below them looking 
 like dark, recumbent forms on the edge of the 
 water. 
 
 193
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 They reached the ramparts : those Byzantine 
 walls, once the pride of its emperors, now use- 
 less and scorned; in places intact, but oftener 
 half-demolished, or merely a heap of stones, 
 like discouraged sentinels of a past civilization, 
 standing above the sea. The Greek, with head 
 bent, walked on without a word, seeming to 
 forget that he had brought a guest with him. 
 They came upon a solitary figure, sitting on the 
 stump of a demolished column. He touched 
 his forehead with his forefinger. "Ya tin eleph- 
 theria," he said. 
 
 "Ya tin elephtheria," replied the Sultan's 
 cook, and touched his own forehead with his 
 forefinger. Twice again, during the night they 
 encountered men, who saluted each other with 
 the same words and the same gesture. Lionel 
 asked no questions, respecting the taciturnity 
 of his usually vokible host. Finally they stopped 
 beside a huge crumbling gateway. 
 
 "This is the gate through which the Asiatic 
 hordes entered the city," said Anton Effendi 
 somberly. "I never walk by these walls but I 
 live over again the last tremendous fight which 
 Christianity made against Islam. 'Christian- 
 
 194
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 ity,' did I say? I was wrong, because the 
 Greeks were refused help by the then powerful 
 Church of Rome, unless they would abandon 
 the Orthodox faith, and become Roman Catho- 
 lics." After a long pause he went on: "I come 
 here, whenever I can, on nights when the moon 
 is full. I come, in order that it" he waved 
 his hand toward the dark city "may know 
 that it does not suffer alone." 
 
 They walked still farther along the ramparts, 
 and in this fantastic night, it seemed to Lionel 
 as if he could in very truth hear the moaning of 
 the enchained Greek soul, in the old city below. 
 
 "I shall never marry," Anton Effendi went 
 on, with a touch of sadness in his voice. "You 
 will find many Greeks of wealth all over the 
 world who will not marry, so long as Constanti- 
 nople is enslaved. It is not an easy thing, be- 
 cause we Greeks love to be fathers, to have 
 sons, many of them, and to see them grow up 
 with our traditions. But we, who belong to the 
 Brotherhood of Ships, must have no descend- 
 ants to claim our wealth when we die. All our 
 money must go to the buying of dreadnoughts 
 to the building up of a great Greek navy, 
 
 195
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 > 
 
 which some day may reconquer Constanti- 
 nople, may free the Greek soul, and permit the 
 priests to enter St. Sophia, again." 
 
 It was a wonderful experience for the Eng- 
 lishman, this night spent on the ramparts of 
 old Byzantium. The two returned to the pal- 
 ace just before dawn, entering the same way 
 that they had gone out. It did not seem worth 
 while to Lionel to go to bed at all. Later in the 
 morning, and for many days afterwards, 
 when he was teaching the Ottoman princes as 
 usual, he would stop to wonder whether he and 
 Anton Effendi had, indeed, been out of the pal- 
 ace on that night, or whether he had dreamed 
 it all, so remote, so unreal did it seem.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 MOTHER AND SON 
 
 LALA SHEDDIN approved of the friendship of 
 Lionel and Anton Effendi. "Of course I only 
 trust Anton Effendi up to a certain extent," 
 he remarked one day. "No Mussulman ever 
 trusts a Greek implicitly perhaps because 
 he has the feeling that he is sitting in the 
 Greek's home." 
 
 This admission surprised Lionel. "Do you 
 think that the Greeks hope some day to recon- 
 quer Constantinople?" he inquired casually. 
 
 "They don't 'hope,' they expect to," Lala 
 Sheddin replied. "A great deal of the money 
 they earn here as government officials they 
 send to Greece, for her army and navy. They 
 have a grim humor, these Greeks, and they are 
 a heartless race." Lala Sheddin tapped his fore- 
 head: "They do everything from here not 
 from the heart." 
 
 Lionel was learning the East from all sides, 
 Manlove Pasha's, no less than Lala Sheddin's. 
 
 197
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Manlove had the heartiest contempt for the 
 Greeks. "They are all soulless rascals," he said 
 one day with great earnestness. "They worship 
 money for money's sake. Look at Anton 
 Effendi! He is actually content to be a cook, 
 because he gets more pay than he did as an 
 exalted government official. What he does with 
 his money I can't imagine. I tried to get some 
 out of him once for charity, and he would n't 
 give me a copper. Said he did n't believe in 
 charity. The only good thing about the Greeks 
 is that, like the Jews, they take care of their own 
 people. And there is n't a village throughout 
 Turkey with a hundred Greeks in it but a 
 church goes up and a fine school and from 
 somewhere the money is forthcoming. Just the 
 same, they are a detestably cunning race. They 
 keep things boiling here." 
 
 Lionel never came to Manlove Pasha's opin- 
 ion about the Greeks. Perhaps it was because 
 he had plumbed the depths of Anton Effendi's 
 character; or it may have been because the 
 mother of Bayazet was of pure Greek descent, 
 and the race which could produce her could not 
 be hateful to him. 
 
 198
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Bayazet was in his ninth year when his 
 mother sent Lionel a letter begging him to try 
 to save her son from a premature marriage. 
 "Soon I may no longer see him often," she 
 wrote, "and my words may grow dim in his 
 mind. He is so tall and strong that they will 
 try to give him a wife even earlier than his 
 brothers. As he already has pride in his blood 
 and race, can you not give him equal pride in 
 his strength and manhood ? Then he may him- 
 self refuse to accept a wife." 
 
 Lionel's attention was caught by a rustle of 
 leaves in the trees near his balcony, where he 
 was sitting. Thrusting the letter into his pocket, 
 he looked up and saw Prince Murad among the 
 leaves. He was flattened along a limb, his head 
 thrust forward, his nostrils distended, and he 
 snuffed like an animal at fault in following a 
 scent. In an instant, seeming to catch the scent 
 again, he crept out to the end of the limb, swung 
 himself to another, and followed that to the 
 trunk of the next tree. 
 
 The Englishman watched him in horrified 
 fascination until he disappeared from sight. 
 Prince Murad had finished his education three 
 
 199
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 years before, and Lionel had seen little of him 
 since. Yet stories of his perverted degeneracy 
 had frequently come to his ears. It was said 
 that he had small wild animals trapped for him; 
 then released them within the palace enclosure 
 and hunted them down, killing them with his 
 teeth and nails. He had also a demoniac fond- 
 ness for perfumes, and had been known to fol- 
 low the trail of some woman for a mile through 
 the palace enclosure. His sense of smell was 
 said to be keener than that of a hound. 
 
 To-day was not the first time that Lionel had 
 actually been a witness of Murad's hunting. 
 Once he had seen him catch a squirrel, tear 
 its throat with his teeth, and drink its blood. 
 The remembrance of the hideous sight had 
 haunted Lionel for days. With Kizatesh Sul- 
 tana's letter in his pocket, he shuddered at the 
 possibility of Bayazet's ever sinking to such a 
 state. 
 
 There came a crash through the branches 
 and a scream, and then the thud of a heavy 
 body falling on the ground. Lionel rushed down- 
 stairs and out in the direction of the noise. He 
 found Prince Murad lying unconscious, one 
 
 200
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 hand still clutching a young lynx, which was 
 scratching and biting at his face. Almost as 
 quickly as the Englishman there arrived 
 Murad's bodyguard, and by the time they had 
 dispatched the young lynx and obtained some 
 water to bathe the face of the unconscious man, 
 Lala Sheddin appeared. He did not seem sur- 
 prised at the scene. Sadly he gazed upon the 
 face of the reviving youth; then said in English 
 to Lionel : 
 
 " It would have been better had he died. His 
 wives would have been happier. It is their blood 
 he will be drinking next." He stroked his chin, 
 and then went on slowly: "They take away 
 from us the gift of life, and they themselves 
 beget such as this. Ah, Lionel Eifendi, if you 
 were to go with me from palace to palace, in 
 this enclosure, you would see to what extent 
 the soul can be outraged by pampered and in- 
 dulged bodies. I have grown old in the service 
 of the Califs, but I believe that which has made 
 my hair gray is not years, but the ugliness of 
 life." 
 
 A litter was sent for, and Murad was carried 
 to his home. Rather to Lionel's astonishment, 
 
 20 1
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 none of his brothers ever made any reference 
 to their brother's accident. Only Lala Sheddin 
 referred to it a few nights later. 
 
 "When they don't get altogether stupefied, 
 they are likely to develop all sorts of manias. 
 What can you expect? Before they are half- 
 developed they are treated as men, and given 
 their own harems. That is what she is afraid 
 of. She fears that when they take away her 
 child, they will marry him immediately; and, 
 of course, in a few years he will be strengthless 
 and spiritless, like the rest of them." 
 
 These talks with Lala Sheddin, and the inci- 
 dent that led up to them, afforded the tutor 
 startling proof of the very real danger against 
 which Kizatesh Sultana had warned Lionel, 
 and he resolved to exert to the utmost his influ- 
 ence with the boy to avert it. The next day he 
 guardedly hinted at the unhappy condition of 
 his brother Murad, and at its cause. He began 
 to work on the boy's pride as an Osmanli prince, 
 and then passed on to the greater pride which 
 each man should entertain for his manhood and 
 his physical fitness. 
 
 Bayazet listened with the attention he always 
 202
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 accorded the words of his tutor; but it staggered 
 the Englishman when the boy replied : 
 
 "A boy becomes a man when he is the lord of 
 a woman. I am stronger and taller than many 
 of my older brothers, and my bodyguard has 
 told me several times that there are already 
 many women in the palace who wish to claim 
 me for their lord." 
 
 The proud attitude of the boy as he spoke 
 was added proof how right the mother had 
 been to fear for her son. Lionel considered the 
 youngster a minute; then he asked gravely: 
 
 "Have you ever told your mother what your 
 bodyguard told you ? " 
 
 Bayazet drew himself up. "A man does not 
 talk with a woman of what he talks with an- 
 other man." ^ 
 
 Looking earnestly into the boy's eyes, Lionel 
 said: "Will you do me the favor to tell her, this 
 evening, what we have talked of, and what your 
 bodyguard told you? You will find that, al- 
 though she is a woman, because she is your 
 mother, she can enlighten and help you more 
 than any other human being." 
 
 The boy was impressed by his tutor's serious 
 203
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 manner, and, after an instant's hesitation, 
 promised. 
 
 Lionel looked after Bayazet, when the latter 
 left him at the close of school hours, with newly 
 appraising eyes. The arrogant pride of the 
 Osmanli, together with that inherited from his 
 Cretan blood, made the boy stand straight and 
 hold his head erect, while the exercises Lionel 
 had given him had made his shoulders flat and 
 broad. He stood a head taller than his brothers 
 of the same age, who by this time had come 
 under the Englishman's care. Lionel had been 
 very proud of Bayazet's physical development 
 and manly appearance. Now he became afraid 
 of both. 
 
 The early slates had been replaced by copy- 
 books, for the last two years, and these Bayazet 
 still carried to his mother every night. That 
 evening, after she had gone over his lessons 
 with him, as usual, she asked : 
 
 "My lion, what did your man talk with you 
 about to-day?" 
 
 The boy tossed up his head and surveyed his 
 mother. No one had ever told him directly that 
 one sex was superior to the other, yet instinc- 
 
 204
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 tively he had the Oriental attitude toward the 
 woman. She was made to be the flower in a 
 man's garden; she was made to be adored: but 
 never for a moment did he consider her the 
 equal of a man man, the lord of creation! 
 It hurt him now to have to talk with his mother 
 on a subject which he felt he should discuss with 
 men alone. And though his man had told him 
 to, he still hesitated, and caressed his mother 
 instead of answering her. Gradually and quite 
 naturally he had assumed toward her the air of 
 a protector. 
 
 She patted him. His former long, dark curls 
 for the last two years had lain in a silk bag, 
 among the mother's precious possessions. His 
 baby clothes had been replaced by military 
 uniforms, and the eaglet she once had embroid- 
 ered on his dresses, now, made of jewels, he 
 wore pinned on his breast. It was the one re- 
 maining sign of his babyhood which he would 
 still endure. But it delighted her to foster the 
 air of the dictator which the boy naturally 
 assumed toward her; because she had great 
 dreams for him, she wanted him to learn to 
 command from early boyhood. She was content 
 
 205
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 to assume the role of second, in order that he 
 might learn to be first. 
 
 She waited patiently for him to speak. Tak- 
 ing up his hand she kissed it. "This little hand 
 will some day be a man's hand, and do men's 
 deeds," she murmured. 
 
 "Sultana mother, when does a boy become 
 a man?" 
 
 The moment had come, and she thanked 
 Allah for it with all the fervor of her soul. 
 Taking both his hands, she placed them on her 
 heart. "My son, it is here that I carried you 
 for nine whole months, keeping myself pure in 
 action and pure in thought, so that your little 
 body should grow within me in purity. I 
 thought of you, and you alone, from the mo- 
 ment you came to me. I breathed clean air so 
 that you should have it clean. I did not light 
 one cigarette, lest it might annoy you. I ate no 
 heavy food, so that you might not be disturbed 
 by its heaviness ; and never did I permit myself 
 to feel anger or hate, so that you should not 
 learn those mean things through me. When you 
 were born, your little body was perfect, because 
 I had worked for its perfection. All that is what 
 
 206
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 the woman does for her son; but the son has also 
 a father, and some day you will be a father of 
 sons when you will be a man. You should 
 look upon your body as proudly as you do upon 
 your rank, and keep it clean and sweet. You 
 asked me just now when a boy becomes a man. 
 I should say when he was twenty-one years 
 old." 
 
 "Twenty-one," Bayazet repeated thought- 
 fully. "It seems to me a man is very old when 
 he is twenty-one." 
 
 "My son, suppose you were in the woods, 
 hunting, and the exercise had given you great 
 desire for food. Your food awaits you two hours 
 away: there your table is spread. Nevertheless, 
 you are very hungry, and come upon a small 
 child, eating. Although it is only child's food, 
 it would appease your hunger. You are bigger 
 and stronger would you take it from him ? " 
 
 "But suppose that, instead of a child, I meet 
 a man's feast, and am invited to partake 
 must I still keep on until I reach my own 
 table?" 
 
 "Bayazet, in my allegory, you cannot be in- 
 vited to a man's feast while you are yet a boy; 
 
 207
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 and you will not be a man before you are 
 twenty-one. Should you take a wife before you 
 reach that age, you would be like a hunter who 
 stole the child's food. And that child would be 
 your own son, and the food you would steal from 
 him would be the strength and the power which 
 you must reserve in yourself to give to your 
 sons. A man is what his mother and father 
 make of him. Would you like, my prince, to be 
 the father of weak and sickly sons?" 
 
 Bayazet shook his head vehemently. 
 
 "Then remember that your sons are flesh of 
 your flesh, and blood of your blood, and that 
 they will be what you make of them. You 
 would not be what you are had I not thought 
 solely of you before you were born. Should you 
 misuse your strength before you are twenty- 
 one, you will rob your sons of their inherit- 
 
 M 5-*^tJ J -!*- s^6 'f t 9 +H. * 
 
 ance. 
 
 "But my bodyguard told me that already 
 there are women who wish to acclaim me as 
 their lord. All my brothers are lords of women 
 before they are fourteen. Am I, then, to be 
 considered inferior to them?" 
 
 A shudder passed over Kizatesh Sultana, as 
 208
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 she listened to these words. Some one was 
 already at work, like a thief in the night. 
 
 "My prince, do you think that the strong, 
 fair-haired young Englishman who teaches you 
 is less of a man than your brothers?" 
 
 "No; he is much more," Bayazet said de- 
 cidedly. 
 
 "Yet he possesses no women and he is far 
 stronger, far more of a man than any one here, 
 just because he can be master of himself." 
 Kizatesh clasped her son to her, and held him 
 for a long time to her heart without speaking. 
 When she had carefully formed the words of 
 what she wished to say, she spoke: "Lion, son, 
 it is true that you are not yet a man to be father 
 of men; yet you are man enough to make and 
 keep a promise. Will you give a promise to 
 your mother, and having given your promise, 
 can you be strong enough and splendid enough 
 to keep it?" 
 
 "Have I ever failed you?" he asked proudly. 
 
 "Thus far you have never failed me but 
 also you have never been put to a severe trial. 
 Have you the courage to keep a promise to me, 
 even if a great desire may possess you? Like 
 
 209
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 the hunter in the woods, you may become hun- 
 gry long before you reach your own table, and 
 on all sides you may see tempting food which 
 unlawfully you could make your own. Do you 
 think you could then keep your promise?" 
 
 " I am sure I could," he replied proudly. 
 
 "Let us then have a trial before you make 
 any promise. For three days go without food, 
 while seeing tempting food within your reach. 
 That will show you how difficult it will be to 
 resist." 
 
 Bayazet rose up, superbly indignant. "Eagle 
 woman, do you think you need to give me such 
 a trial?" 
 
 " I ask it as a favor." 
 
 "Well, then, I accept only it shall be five 
 days, instead of three." 
 
 "No! No! That is too much," Kizatesh 
 cried. 
 
 " It must be five, because I will it." 
 
 To his mother's arguments, he, in his 
 wounded pride, would not listen. That feeling 
 in him, which had revolted at the idea of any 
 trial being necessary, now urged him to make 
 the conditions of the utmost severity. Since 
 
 210
 
 
 IT MUST BE FIVE, BECAUSE I WILL IT
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 his eagle woman doubted him, she should learn 
 of what he was capable. 
 
 Kizatesh Sultana sent a letter to Lionel, tell- 
 ing him of the trial, and begging him to per- 
 suade Bayazet to be content with a three days' 
 fast. 
 
 "Plucky little beggar," the Englishman mur- 
 mured, after he had spoken with Bayazet about 
 it, " I believe he will stick it out." 
 
 During the days of fasting, Kizatesh Sultana 
 did not spare her son. Delicious baskets of 
 fruit were the first things that met his eyes 
 when he woke up; plates of tempting slices of 
 bread and butter and cold meats were placed 
 on the tables in his dressing-room. Even when 
 he came to his lessons, he found viands on his 
 desk. 
 
 Lionel had never liked and admired the boy 
 so much as during these five days of trial. 
 Bayazet touched nothing. On the evening of 
 the fifth day he came to his mother. He was 
 pale, and felt dizzy, yet he stood before her 
 proudly as ever. 
 
 "I think you ought to have had more faith 
 in me, sultana mother," he said. 
 
 211
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 i 
 
 " It was not faith that I lacked. I wished you 
 
 to know how difficult it would be for you to 
 keep your promise. I did not wish you to say 
 later: 'My mother had no right to exact a 
 promise from me which I could not possibly 
 keep.'" 
 
 "And now that I have shown to you that I 
 can do what I will to do, what is that other 
 promise you wish me to give you?" 
 
 She took him in her arms. "You must eat 
 first, my son. It is now five full days since a 
 morsel of food has passed your lips." 
 
 "I prefer to take the oath now, fasting, as if 
 this were the real Ramazan." 
 
 "Very well, my son. Perhaps it is better. I 
 wish you to promise me that until you are 
 twenty-one you will refuse to become lord of 
 
 women." 
 
 Bayazet's eyebrows contracted. "I shall be 
 laughed at by my brothers; but since you and 
 Addam think it best, I will." 
 
 With hands folded on his breast he gave his 
 mother the promise that she longed for.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE PRICE OF A WOMAN 
 
 THE comparative tranquillity in which those 
 concerned in this tale were living was drawing 
 to a close. It was no indefinite period, which 
 might last on from year to year: it had its fixed 
 limits, only 'too well known to most of the ac- 
 tors in this drama. Manlove Pasha alone did 
 not know of the five years' armistice between 
 the Sultan and Kizatesh Sultana, nor of the 
 struggle that had preceded it. Hence, for some 
 months after Lala Sheddin's visit to him, he 
 had chafed under the expectation of something 
 about to happen, which never happened; but as 
 a year passed, and then another, without bring- 
 ing any dire results, his apprehensions gradually 
 dulled themselves on the edge of time. The 
 only circumstance that, at irregular intervals, 
 reminded him that something might yet occur, 
 were the sums, now large, now small, which the 
 head eunuch entrusted to him to invest for 
 Lionel. These now amounted to a considerable 
 
 213
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 total, which was rapidly increasing, since the 
 interest was always added to the principal. Ex- 
 cept for this, Manlove Pasha would have come to 
 the conclusion thatLala Sheddin had abandoned 
 whatever scheme he once had entertained. 
 
 On the day which ended Lionel's fifth year in 
 the service of the Sultan, the young English- 
 man arose earlier than usual. It was cool and 
 fresh, and the air had that velvety quality 
 which soothes the nerves and stirs the mind to 
 reveries of the past. Lionel stood on his bal- 
 cony, breathing in the air gently blowing up 
 from the Bosphorus. He was not ruminating 
 of the past, but speculating about the future. 
 Five years he had been here, and this was sig- 
 nificant because in a few days there would also 
 be at an end the five years during which the 
 Sultan had promised to leave Kizatesh Sultana 
 in peace. Then again the thwarted monarch 
 would be at liberty to persecute to punish 
 to torture, if he would, the woman who had 
 withstood him. The Englishman's lips were 
 drawn into a straight line, and his hands were 
 clenched in his pockets. Who was to defend her 
 when these last few days were past? 
 
 214
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Well, my friend, your face looks as if you 
 were preparing to hit some one a hard blow." 
 
 The eunuch, as usual, had appeared, softly, 
 unannounced. Lionel shook hands with him. 
 
 "What brings you here with the sun?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Oh, not with the sun. He has been up a 
 long time, and has no doubt already seen a lot 
 of mischief, though we may know nothing of it. 
 As to what brings me here : a message from my 
 imperial master." 
 
 "A message? Forme?" 
 
 Lala Sheddin nodded. "It is five years to- 
 day since you undertook to teach his sons." 
 
 "Oh! Did he remember that?" 
 
 "Yes. He seems to have a good memory for 
 dates," the eunuch replied dryly. 
 
 A pause followed, full of significance for both 
 men. Lionel cleared his throat. 
 
 " Then er I suppose there is no chance that 
 he will forget that the five years of Kizatesh 
 Sultana's er respite are drawing to a close?" 
 
 Through half-closed eyes the eunuch gazed 
 toward the far horizon, where the loveliest of 
 hills bathed their feet in the Bosphorus. 
 
 215
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "I think he will remember," he replied 
 slowly. 
 
 The two men remained silent for several 
 minutes. Then the eunuch asked : 
 
 "Were you thinking of that, when you 
 looked so savage?" 
 
 "Savage! Was I looking especially savage?" 
 Lionel asked evasively. 
 
 Lala Sheddin laughed. "Don't waste your 
 time pretending. I know you as well as a 
 mother knows her only child. But don't you 
 wish to know my message?" 
 
 "Yes, of course." 
 
 "You are to come up with me to the palace, 
 and there you are to take breakfast with my 
 imperial master, and with all the princes who 
 have been or who still are your pupils. His 
 intention also is to decorate you. That is why 
 I came so early to give you time to make 
 yourself fit for such imperial breakfasting. Now 
 you may go and get ready while I sit here 
 and speculate as to the cause of the savage look 
 you wore when I appeared. Oh, by the way, I 
 have also a package for you from Kizatesh 
 Sultana." 
 
 216
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 From the pocket of his frock coat the eunuch 
 produced a small bundle, wrapped in a piece 
 of brocade. Cool and self-restrained as Lionel 
 was, the color flew to his cheeks; and his con- 
 fusion was increased by the knowledge that the 
 shrewd eyes of the other were fastened upon 
 him. "Confound the man!" he thought. 
 
 Carelessly he accepted the package, and 
 turned to go. 
 
 "I shall have to invent some nice things to 
 tell Kizatesh Sultana that you said, or her feel- 
 ings will be hurt. It's hard lines to have to 
 invent things for everybody's feelings," Lala 
 Sheddin complained. "I expected you would, 
 at least, manifest a little pleasure in her gift 
 considering she has worked at it for months." 
 
 "I am awfully obliged," Lionel replied, blush- 
 ing anew. 
 
 Lala Sheddin took him by the shoulders and 
 shook him and the Englishman was amazed 
 at his strength : "Come now, my boy, you know 
 you are as happy as how do you say? ah, 
 yes as happy as punches. Are you going to 
 your room to put away the package until a 
 more convenient time? No! You will open it 
 
 217
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 as soon as you are alone. Therefore, why not 
 open it now? Do you think because I know the 
 vanity of the world, I have outgrown curiosity? 
 Some months ago she asked my permission to 
 make something for you, for this date. I gave 
 her the permission and now I want to know 
 what is in the package." 
 
 Lionel unwrapped the piece of brocade. In- 
 side it was a little pile of handkerchiefs, beauti- 
 fully embroidered with a mother eagle and an 
 eaglet. 
 
 On the wings of each was embroidered a 
 letter, and to the Englishman's surprise, it was 
 the letter L. There was also a note : 
 
 From Bayazefs mother, whose 
 heart is a mosque, in which the 
 religion is gratitude for you 
 
 Lionel thrust the letter into his pocket. This, 
 at least, he would not share with Lala Sheddin. 
 He pointed to the embroidered Us on the 
 wings. 
 
 "How did she know my name?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, we have talked a good deal about you. 
 She knows all that I know. Sometimes it 
 
 218
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 seems to me that she even knows more." As the 
 eunuch contemplated the little pile of hand- 
 kerchiefs, he shook his head wearily. "There is 
 a special Providence for fools and women. Had 
 this package been found on me with a note 
 to you I don't know what would have hap- 
 pened to her; but I know that by this time / 
 should have been hanging from some tree, of 
 which my master would have had a good view 
 from his window. I was carrying my own 
 death-warrant, and did not know it." 
 
 He picked up one of the handkerchiefs, and 
 examined the eagles, smiling grimly. 
 
 "When you go to breakfast with my master, 
 suppose you take one of these, and let him see 
 what an excellent needlewoman Kizatesh Sul- 
 tana is. I doubt whether he knows of this ac- 
 complishment of hers." The eunuch with his 
 head on one side caressed his beardless chin. 
 "By the Mantle of the Prophet, that would be 
 an experience," he chuckled. An instant later 
 he was quite serious again. "Enjoy these hand- 
 kerchiefs all you wish, to-day. To-night Man- 
 love Pasha is coming to dine with you. Give 
 them to him, and tell him to send them to 
 219
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 England to await you there. Here they are too 
 explosive. I should love to whip her for this. 
 I don't know what Allah was thinking of when 
 he created women. He must have been absent- 
 minded, and have forgotten to give them any 
 
 sense." 
 
 Again he contemplated the little pile of 
 handkerchiefs, and smiled: "Allah must have 
 a sense of humor," he murmured. "The Sul- 
 tan holds sway over nine hundred million souls 
 yet those handkerchiefs he could not have 
 as a free gift, for all his power. And now you 
 will go up to him, you will drop on one knee be- 
 fore him, and he will decorate you with a pre- 
 cious bauble : and for nothing that he possesses 
 would you even let him see one of these pre- 
 cious handkerchiefs. It is a humorous 'world. 
 Well, go and get ready: things will happen as 
 they will happen." 
 
 Half an hour later the Sultan received the 
 tutor and the head eunuch with all his Oriental 
 courtesy and charm of manner. He motioned 
 to the Englishman to sit down on the foot of the 
 divan, on which he was half-reclining. With 
 another motion he dismissed Lala Sheddin. 
 220
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "It is five years to-day since you came here," 
 he began graciously. "You have been happy?" 
 
 "Quite so, your majesty." 
 
 "Anton Effendi calls you a monk. Are you 
 going to take orders?" 
 
 "No, your majesty." 
 
 "Then are you going to be married?" 
 
 "I do not think so, your majesty." 
 
 "Is there a woman you are in love with?" 
 He spoke with an odd drawl in the middle of 
 his sentence, which somehow gave to his words 
 unusual significance. 
 
 After a slight hesitation, the Englishman an- 
 swered: "Yes, your majesty." 
 
 " She must be a very difficult lady to make 
 you wait so long." 
 
 Lionel made no reply to this. 
 
 "And you must love her very much, to be 
 able to live so indifferent to the rest of woman- 
 kind," the Sultan went on. 
 
 Again the tutor did not answer. 
 
 "Is she very beautiful?" 
 
 "She has a beautiful soul." 
 
 "We are told women have no souls. Do you 
 believe differently?" 
 
 221
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "My mother had a soul. The woman I love 
 has one." 
 
 The Sultan played with the string of precious 
 beads in his hand, meditatively. Then he 
 asked : 
 
 " Is it because she has a soul that she refuses 
 to be yours? Or is it because you are poor? 
 Suppose you were a monarch, like me, would 
 she then come to you?" 
 
 "No, your majesty. The soul of a woman 
 has no price." 
 
 "You talk as poets talk but you are wrong. 
 Allah alone has no price : women are created 
 to bring joy to men." After a slight pause he 
 added: "Do you not hope some day to make 
 her yours?" 
 
 "I have no hope of that, your majesty." 
 
 "Meanwhile, her youth is passing; her bloom 
 is fading. But since there is no hope of your 
 obtaining the woman you love, I suppose we 
 can count on keeping you here." 
 
 "I should like to stay here until Bayazet 
 finishes his education." 
 
 The Sultan glanced quickly at the tutor. 
 "Why only Bayazet?" he asked. 
 
 222
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Because er" Lionel thought he dis- 
 cerned awakening suspicion in the words of the 
 monarch "because he is the youngest pupil 
 I started with." 
 
 The ray of suspicion- if it were such dis- 
 appeared from the countenance of the Sultan, and 
 in its place appeared an appraising expression. 
 
 " Is Bayazet cleverer than his brothers? " he 
 asked. 
 
 "He is different." 
 
 "Is the * difference* in his favor?" 
 
 Lionel weighed his reply carefully. 
 
 "It is a matter of taste, your majesty." 
 
 The Commander of the Faithful did not 
 pursue the subject further. Instead he laid his 
 hand on a box, near him on the divan, and 
 opened it. It contained a decoration. He 
 glanced at it, then clapped his hands, and, to 
 Lala Sheddin, who entered, he said : 
 
 "I have changed my mind. I prefer to give 
 to Adams Effendi a decoration of a higher 
 order. Keep this yourself." 
 
 Lala Sheddin kneeled and kissed the foot of 
 the monarch, took the decoration, and left the 
 room. He returned with another box. 
 
 223
 
 THE'GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Come, Adams EfFendi," said the Sultan. 
 
 The Englishman dropped on one knee before 
 him, and the Sultan fastened the decoration 
 upon his breast. 
 
 "This is for your services to my sons." Then 
 from his pocket he drew a gold cigarette-case, 
 engraved with the imperial arms. "And this is 
 from me." 
 
 Lionel thanked him, glad to be through with 
 his knight-errant posturing. 
 
 "And now, as to your poetical love," the 
 Sultan said suddenly, "perhaps if you were to 
 describe her, one similar to her might be found 
 to console you." 
 
 "I am afraid not," the Englishman replied 
 icily. And there blazed a light in his eyes be- 
 fore which the gaze of the potentate flickered 
 and sought the far horizon. 
 
 Presently the Sultan turned to Lala Shed- 
 din: "My sons may now join us for breakfast." 
 
 During the next few days the tension of wait- 
 ing he knew not for what grew almost 
 insupportable for Lionel. Had the Sultan for- 
 gotten? Had he found a new favorite? And 
 
 224
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 if he had, would that make him forgive the 
 woman who had repulsed him? 
 
 The Sultan had proved to the Englishman 
 that he had a good memory. 
 
 How would he now plan his revenge? Would 
 it not be in the manner that would be most 
 poignantly felt through Kizatesh Sultana's 
 love for her boy? Fiercely Lionel resented this. 
 The Sultan and he had oddly reversed roles; 
 and with something like a father's love Lionel 
 thought protectingly of Bayazet. 
 
 A week passed, and nothing happened. In- 
 stead of lulling Lionel's fears, the delay in- 
 creased them. 
 
 On the ninth day, Bayazet did not come to 
 his morning lessons. Lionel hoped that he 
 might only be ill, and was alert for any word his 
 brothers might drop about it he dared not 
 ask them. 
 
 In the afternoon, with an anxiety that no 
 one could understand whose life and interests 
 had not been as restricted as had Lionel's, he 
 awaited the hour for his private lesson with 
 Bayazet. At the appointed time the boy did not 
 
 225
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 appear. A quarter of an hour passed twenty 
 minutes. 
 
 Lionel got up and paced the length of his 
 room. 
 
 At the half-hour he heard hurried footsteps 
 approaching; the door of the schoolroom was 
 flung open, and Bayazet came in, without a 
 bodyguard, and carrying his own books. 
 
 "Good-day!" he said gruffly. 
 
 His face was pale and haggard, and it was 
 easy to see that he was unhappy. That he was 
 blazing with rage was also plain. The tutor 
 thought it best to wait for the boy to speak; yet 
 it was the Englishman who finally broke the 
 silence. 
 
 "If you are in trouble, Bayazet, there is no 
 need of my telling you that I will help you, if I 
 am able to." 
 
 The boy shook his head miserably. "No, no 
 one can help me. It is not I, so much as as 
 my mother." 
 
 The Englishman felt a cold sinking at the 
 heart. For her, he eould not even offer his 
 help. 
 
 Bayazet covered his face with his hands for
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 an instant; then he raised his head, and stamped 
 on the floor. 
 
 " She always says I must be a man and I 
 want to cry like a baby. What is the use of 
 pretending? I am not a man. If I were, I could 
 kill like a man, and defend her like a man." He 
 went up to the Englishman, and placing his 
 clenched fists on his breast cried: "Addam, 
 when shall I be able to slay- 1 - to slay?" 
 
 The boy looked like a veritable little savage. 
 Lionel drew him down upon his knee, tall as he 
 was. 
 
 "Sit still a minute, Bayazet. Perhaps we 
 shall be able to think of some way to help, even 
 better than slaying." 
 
 The boy threw his arms around his tutor's 
 neck, and for a few seconds the dark head rested 
 on the man's breast, while the sobs, for so long 
 restrained, shook his young frame. Then he 
 sprang up. 
 
 "I cannot sit still. If I do, I just think! I 
 should not mind it so much if I could see her 
 and talk it over with her. I did not sleep all 
 night: my thoughts would not let me sleep." 
 
 His large, dark eyes were larger than usual, 
 227
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 and reminded Lionel more than ever of those 
 fiery, dark eyes, which had met his for one sec- 
 ond, just five years ago. 
 
 "Suppose we try to study," Lionel suggested. 
 "That may calm your thoughts." 
 
 "But I do not want to calm my thoughts. 
 Addam, do you know what they mean me to 
 stand? They mean me never, never to see my 
 mother's face again. I tried to go to her this 
 morning, in spite of them. I fought with hands 
 and feet and teeth. I hit and hit and hit, but 
 after all, I could not defeat an army of eunuchs 
 and that is what stood between me and her. 
 And that still stands between us. She can 
 fight her way even less than I; for she is little, 
 like a white flower. What is she doing? Is she 
 crying and are they mocking her ? Is she beg- 
 ging for me, and are they laughing at her? 
 Addam, when shall I be big enough to slay? 
 I don't want to learn any more from books. I 
 want you to teach me to slay men to slay 
 all that army that stands between me and her, 
 so that I can pass over their dead bodies to get 
 to my mother." 
 
 "Suppose you were to see your father, and 
 228
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 ask him to let you see your mother and talk 
 the matter over with her," Lionel suggested, 
 though with faint belief in his own suggestion. 
 "Don't ask it in anger; ask it as a favor." 
 
 "He will not see me. I tried all last night, 
 and all this morning he refuses to see me. 
 Yesterday, in the evening, when at my cus- 
 tomary hour I was going to my mother, I was 
 stopped and told that from now on I was to live 
 in the salemlik, with the men. I asked to go 
 and see her as my brothers see their mothers 
 and then go to the salemlik, and was told 
 that I was not to see my mother. I don't know 
 how, but gradually I understood that I was 
 never, never to see her again." Bayazet choked, 
 and for a minute could not speak. "Yesterday 
 morning I left her as usual. She knew nothing 
 of what was coming; for she was as happy as she 
 always is. Now, where is she? What is she do- 
 ing? Why am I not to see her again? I do not 
 understand, and my father refuses to speak 
 with me." 
 
 The door opened, and two stalwart men en- 
 tered. They salaamed to the floor. "We are 
 your new bodyguard," they announced. 
 
 229
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Bayazet looked at them sneeringly. "I 
 struck my bodyguard this morning with a glass, 
 which broke on his face. So now they give me 
 two new ones and quite big ones, too. They 
 flatter me."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 FATHER AND SON 
 
 THE Sultan remained half-reclining on his 
 divan, but his hand stopped playing with his 
 beads. 
 
 "I believe I said that I did not wish you to 
 disturb me," he said coldly. 
 
 "I have not come to disturb you, father 
 Padishah. I have come to lay my case before 
 you, and to ask of you justice." 
 
 "Do you imply that justice has not been 
 accorded you by me?" 
 
 "Not by you, father Padishah, but by those 
 who do not understand your orders." 
 
 "It is by my orders that you are henceforth 
 to live in the salemlik." 
 
 "I am only nine years old. I should have 
 three years more to live with my mother." 
 
 " It is true that you are only nine years old, 
 but you are taller than any of your four brothers 
 who are twelve years old you are as tall as 
 most of your brothers who are fourteen. They 
 
 231
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 all live in the salemlik, like men, without mak- 
 ing a fuss and forcing themselves into my pres- 
 ence. Are you such a baby that the lack of a 
 woman's lap to sit on makes you forget all 
 etiquette?" 
 
 Bayazet flushed. " Since it is by your orders, 
 I bow to them, Padishah. Yet all my brothers 
 who live in the salemlik are permitted to go to 
 their mothers whenever they like. Why am I 
 alone to be denied this privilege?" 
 
 The ruler of Islam affected an air of supreme 
 indifference, lest he betray to the boy the thrill 
 which his manly tones sent through him. To 
 safeguard the interests of the reigning monarch 
 it was necessary that the heirs to the great 
 throne should be without will, without initia- 
 tive, with little courage. Only thus could all 
 danger of revolt and upheaval be avoided. Yet 
 the father in the monarch gloried in the spirit 
 of this son. He gloried in it the more because he 
 could do so safely, since between the boy and 
 the throne there stood a great number of nearer 
 heirs. He indulged himself in the novelty of 
 meeting an intense personality, which was not 
 snuffed out by near approach to his sacred 
 
 232
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 person. To mask his unwonted interest the 
 Sultan began to play again with his beads, 
 stretching a leg out straight upon the divan, 
 while his head slowly sank back on the pillows; 
 yet one arm supported the imperial head suf- 
 ficiently so that his eyes should lose nothing. 
 Feigning indifference, he was alive to every 
 change in the boy's face. 
 
 Bayazet awaited the reply to his entreaty. 
 The Sultan of Turkey chose to make none. 
 
 "You have heard me, father Padishah?" 
 
 "Heard you! I have tried not to. This is 
 insubordination to my will." 
 
 "Father Padishah, I do not wish to be in- 
 subordinate. I do not mean to question your 
 decisions. I come to you as a suppliant " 
 
 The ruler interrupted with a laugh. '"You, 
 a suppliant, when you force your way into 
 my presence, with storm on your face, with 
 thunder in your voice! A suppliant, with 
 clenched fists, and body erect, as if to im- 
 press me with your premature height. By the 
 Beard of the Prophet, you are a humble sup- 
 pliant!" 
 
 The boy crossed his arms on his breast it 
 233
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 may have been to keep his fist from clenching 
 anew. 
 
 "Does it befit an imperial son of the house 
 of Othman to be a humble suppliant even to 
 his Padishah?" 
 
 Involuntarily the ruler changed his position. 
 With what vivid pride this boy of his blood 
 carried himself. A tinge of fear crept into the 
 gaze of the Sultan: the father had receded; the 
 monarch was now uppermost. He appraised 
 Bayazet as a new force that had come into his 
 life a force possibly hostile. Bayazet was 
 nine : in five short years he would be a man 
 a man of action, of courage, and fully aware of. 
 his imperial heritage. A legion of brothers stood 
 ahead of him, but what was a legion of spineless 
 boys to such a man as Bayazet would become? 
 Incidents to which he had previously paid little 
 attention came rushing back into the monarch's 
 mind. All men in the palace worshiped this 
 boy. Even that Englishman was willing to stay 
 in the palace, living like a monk, because he 
 loved Bayazet. His old bodyguard whom the 
 boy had struck with a heavy piece of glass, and 
 who was now in the hospital, was begging to be 
 
 234
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 allowed to return to his young master as soon 
 as he should be well; while the two new men, 
 who had been appointed in his place, were anx- 
 ious to retain their positions. And had not Lala 
 Sheddin, one day, called Bayazet a veritable 
 eagle? 
 
 All these thoughts crowded the Sultan's 
 brain, while his eyes held those of his son, who 
 did not flinch before his gaze. And Bayazet, he 
 remembered, was the son of the woman who 
 had defied him him the Shadow of Allah on 
 Earth. 
 
 Bayazet, looking into his father's eyes, as one 
 thought after another changed the light in 
 them, became suddenly conscious of a vague 
 impending danger. As if he had been warned in 
 words, he knew that he must be careful. He had 
 seen friendliness in the depths of his father's 
 eyes, even when his words had been hard. Now 
 menace flooded them. 
 
 Kizatesh Sultana was a Greek and a Cretan, 
 a combination fearless as it is cunning. Her 
 son, though only nine years old, acted in this 
 emergency like the descendant of a race of 
 strategists. Before the welling enmity of the 
 
 235
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Sultan had time to culminate, Bayazet was on 
 his knees beside the divan, his arms around 
 his father's neck, his voice, exquisitely sweet, 
 pleading: 
 
 "Father, why should we quarrel, you and 
 I, who only have love for each other?" 
 
 Again the father in the monarch rose upper- 
 most. At the moment Bayazet could have done 
 what he wished with his father, who, with 
 Asiatic sensuousness, abandoned himself to the 
 joy of satisfied fatherhood. 
 
 How lasting the reconciliation might have 
 become, it is impossible to say. Unfortunately, 
 there lingered about the boy the exquisite per- 
 fume indelibly associated with his mother. As 
 the father kissed his son, the senses of the man 
 were stirred by half-forgotten things. With the 
 scent, whose secret Kizatesh alone possessed, 
 the boy's voice recalled the musical tones of 
 the mother. Slowly the dormant desire of the 
 man for the woman awoke. Fire rushed through 
 his veins with overpowering strength. He felt 
 alive, and ferociously glad in his passion. He 
 had been like a man half-dead of late: he had 
 forgotten that within him the man let loose 
 236
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 could cause such delirious rioting. The woman 
 who was in his power the woman who had 
 given him this boy, and who yet had never been 
 his, in spite of her motherhood that woman 
 he now wanted, as he had never wanted her 
 before and he wanted her, loving and tender, 
 as the boy was at this moment. He wanted her, 
 not with eyes shot with fear, but with the ex- 
 quisite tenderness of the lovelight with lips, 
 not shivering with horror, but tremulously 
 seeking his. 
 
 When the Sultan had ordered the separation 
 of Bayazet and his mother, he had done so with- 
 out any well-defined plan for the future. It 
 was the first move, while waiting for Fate to 
 guide. Now he knew what the next step was to 
 be. He must possess the woman. He sprang 
 from the divan. 
 
 "Wait here! I am going to your mother." 
 Striding past the boy, he traversed the ante- 
 chamber, and passed down the long corridor, 
 amid bowed heads, until he reached the mebe- 
 hin, the dividing door between the men's and 
 the women's parts of the palace. A group of 
 eunuchs was there playing cards. At sight of 
 
 237
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 the potentate, they prostrated themselves, and 
 one, receiving a command, crawled from his 
 master's presence, and disappeared behind the 
 heavy portiere which hid the communicating 
 door. Presently, from the other side, the por- 
 tiere moved outward, raised by invisible eunuchs. 
 It rose above the head of the Calif, and, as he 
 advanced toward the door, slowly fell behind 
 him, hiding the haremlik from any man's eyes, 
 even before its door was opened.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE SHAME OF AN EAGLET 
 
 BAYAZET, left alone, wondered what had 
 caused all the changes in his father, and why he 
 had departed so abruptly to go to his mother. 
 His mother! He caressed the eaglet on his 
 breast, and impatience seized him anew to be 
 a man. He felt that his mother needed him to 
 protect her. 
 
 He rose to his feet, and, with his hands 
 clasped behind his straight young back, began 
 striding up and down the room. He walked as 
 the Cretans do, in long strides, with head erect, 
 and the springy step of a free animal of the 
 wilds. His walk was one of the most attractive 
 things about Bayazet, and his father had often 
 remarked upon it with pride and satisfaction. 
 If any of his hearers knew just whence that 
 stride came, they abstained from informing the 
 Calif. For two hundred years Crete had not 
 been a pleasant subject for any of the rulers of 
 Islam. 
 
 239
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 The boy paced up and down, thinking in- 
 tently, unwilling even yet to admit that any 
 one really wished to separate him from his 
 mother least of all, his own father. He began 
 to speculate about this father, of whom he had 
 heard so much, and whom he actually knew so 
 little. Could he count on him, as he could on 
 his mother, or as he could on Addam, "his 
 man"? For the first time in his life Bayazet 
 compared his father with the Englishman, and 
 instantly rejected the comparison. It was dis- 
 loyal to his father, to the great ruler of Islam, 
 to compare him with an ordinary man. Yet the 
 comparison kept creeping into his mind, and it 
 did not please him. He stamped his foot. 
 
 It now came to him that unconsciously he 
 had been fashioning himself after his man, and 
 not after his father. And with pain he remem- 
 bered that his own mother had repeatedly said to 
 him: "Do as thy man tells thee; for thou must 
 grow to be a man like him, if thou wishest thy 
 mother to be proud of thee." Why had she not 
 told him to be like his father? 
 
 Abruptly he stopped in his walk. Would he 
 care to be like his father? Something hurt within 
 
 240
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 his heart, as he realized how vehemently he re- 
 fused to be like his father. He closed his eyes 
 to blot out the thought, but this did not stop 
 the working of his brain. Instead, a terrific 
 question took possession of it: Had he been 
 allowed to choose a father, which of the two 
 would he have chosen the Sultan or his man? 
 
 Till now, for all the liking and respect he felt 
 for Lionel, he had looked upon his tutor as his 
 own property. Heir to the exaggerated inso- 
 lence of the imperial Osmanli, to whom all 
 others in the world stand inferior, he had never 
 thought of his man except as a being belonging 
 to him, Bayazet, who was the master. Now, 
 when in his mind he knew he preferred him to 
 his father, the unparalleled suspicion came over 
 him that perhaps the Englishman was not only 
 his equal, but might even be his superior the 
 superior of him, Bayazet, the Osmanli prince. 
 Staggered at the bare possibility, he dropped on 
 a low divan, behind a screen of mother-of-pearl, 
 his chin in both his hands. 
 
 His meditations were interrupted by the furi- 
 ous reentrance of his father, who, oblivious of 
 his presence, threw himself upon his couch, and 
 241
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 with hands and teeth began tearing the pillows, 
 while words came from his lips which made his 
 son rigid with cold shame, for his father and for 
 himself. But what above all else tore the heart 
 of the boy, was the bestiality on the face of the 
 man, whom till now he had only seen surrounded 
 by the magnificence of his exalted station. He, 
 who had seemed above all human beings, 
 an emblem rather than a man, was now 
 stripped of his outward magnificence, and lay 
 before his son, a pitiful, a loathsome object. 
 
 The blood burned in Bayazet's veins. He 
 wanted to shriek to his father to stop to 
 stop tearing and mumbling to stop degrad- 
 ing himself before his son. But the Sultan, 
 abandoning himself to his rage, gradually lost 
 every vestige of self-control; and every base de- 
 sire of his was revealed in the torrent of words 
 which poured from his mouth. 
 
 In the tender, loving atmosphere with which 
 his mother had surrounded him, in the high- 
 minded comradeship of the Englishman, Baya- 
 zet had not even suspected that such human 
 wreckage could exist and the wreck before 
 him was his own father, his Padishah. An al- 
 
 242
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 most overpowering desire seized the boy to 
 rise and destroy the man before him, to avenge 
 his humiliated pride, his princely dignity. 
 
 "Kizatesh, by the Beard of the Prophet, thou 
 shalt submit thyself to me thou shalt!" 
 
 With a raucous, bestial snarl the Sultan rose. 
 He scattered the torn pillows, and made for the 
 door. 
 
 With a bound Bayazet was before his father. 
 On the instant he felt himself to be a man, and 
 spoke with self-control. He raised his hand be- 
 fore his father. 
 
 "Remember that you are the Commander of 
 the Faithful the Ruler of Islam the Shad- 
 ow of Allah on Earth. Do not let any other hu- 
 man being see you as you are at this moment." 
 
 The voice was so tense, so authoritative that 
 the Sultan stopped. The boy seemed to him 
 extraordinarily big. Man and boy held each 
 other's eyes, and the man's dropped before his 
 son's. The Sultan drew back back, till he 
 reached the wall, and leaned against it, shiver- 
 ing. As the father retreated, the boy advanced, 
 his face white, his eyes ablaze, and never for an 
 instant losing their command of the man. 
 243
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Entirely unnerved now, the Sultan began to 
 weep. 
 
 Bayazet salaamed very low before his father, 
 and spoke to him with all the exaggerated cere- 
 mony that he could command. His one desire 
 was to force the man before him to assume his 
 proper position, to be reinstated again with all 
 his holy rights. He failed, and saw the man fall 
 a heap upon the floor, crying like the most piti- 
 ful of children. Never in his life had Bayazet 
 himself wept like this: always when he cried 
 there was rage in his tears, not broken spirit. 
 
 Outside there was the sound of footsteps 
 running, and Bayazet rushed to intercept them. 
 He was just in time. 
 
 "No one must enter!" he commanded im- 
 periously. "Go back, all of you, and send Lala 
 Sheddin here. If one of you comes nearer than 
 this anteroom, he will pay for it with his life." 
 
 He had managed to draw the portieres before 
 any of the eunuchs had seen into the room, and 
 now he stood holding them together behind him, 
 as he watched the men ebb away. He stayed 
 there until Lala Sheddin came hurrying up. 
 
 "My father is not well. Stay here, and keep 
 244
 
 AS THE FATHER RETREATED THE BOY ADVANCED
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 all these men away. I will call you if you are 
 needed." 
 
 He slipped through the portieres and ran to 
 his father, still weeping on the floor. Half-lift- 
 ing, half-dragging him, he got him upon the 
 divan, arranged a pillow beneath his head, and 
 covered him with a richly embroidered coverlet. 
 
 "There, father Padishah, you will be better 
 in a few minutes. You have been touched by 
 some bad fever, which has weakened your spirit 
 and your strength." 
 
 He lowered the shades, and picked up all the 
 torn pillows and put them in a pile in one corner. 
 Then he returned and knelt by his father, and 
 began soothing his forehead, a protecting feel- 
 ing having replaced his other emotions. 
 
 The Sultan wept drearily, and then fell 
 asleep. Watching him, Bayazet's mind was 
 again besieged by the thoughts of a little while 
 ago. He recalled the words of his mother as to 
 what a man and a father ought to be. What had 
 his eagle woman been thinking of when she had 
 given him such a father? There must be some- 
 thing wrong with the world when a boy could 
 not feel a fierce pride in his father a pride 
 
 245
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 such as Bayazet, till a few minutes ago, had 
 been able to feel. 
 
 He lowered his head on his hands, and his 
 thoughts flew back to the Englishman. Was 
 the Englishman nobler than his father? He was 
 stronger; he was manlier; and the boy could not 
 imagine his ever weeping as his father had. 
 Bayazet's pride in his position and his blood 
 began to crumble within him. He felt so piti- 
 fully small and of no consequence since he 
 could not be proud. His eyes fell on the eaglet 
 his mother loved him to wear. Could he be an 
 eaglet, with a father such as this? Burning 
 tears came into his eyes. With the back of his 
 hand he brushed them away he had seen too 
 much weeping that day and sprang to his 
 feet. 
 
 "At any rate, my mother is an eagle," he said, 
 between gritted teeth. "And my sons must 
 not be ashamed of me." 
 
 From time to time Lala Sheddin peeped 
 through the closed portieres until the monarch 
 was breathing regularly in sleep. Then he tip- 
 toed into the room, and approached Bayazet, 
 246
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 sitting dejectedly beside the divan. With his 
 finger on his lips for silence, he took the boy's 
 hand and led him to the farthest corner of the 
 room. 
 
 "Tell me all that happened," he said in a 
 low tone less likely to arouse the sleeper than 
 the more sibilant whisper. 
 
 Bayazet knew that his mother and his tutor 
 trusted Lala Sheddin. Briefly he told him what 
 had happened, omitting such details as his 
 pride could not brook the mention of. 
 
 The eunuch listened thoughtfully. "I think 
 it would be better if you were to go to your man 
 and stay with him," he said at the end. 
 
 Bayazet had no wish for any companionship, 
 if he could not have that of his mother. He 
 shook his head in dissent at the eunuch's sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 "Your father might not like to find you here 
 when he wakes up," Lala Sheddin urged. "Go 
 to your man and stay with him quietly. For 
 your mother's sake, do not try to see her again, 
 for the present." 
 
 Reluctantly Bayazet consented. As it was 
 approaching the dinner hour he first went to 
 247
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 his own rooms and bade his valet dress him in 
 his finest uniform, with all his medals and 
 decorations. He felt the need of every exterior 
 aid to uphold his shattered pride. Yet, when 
 he entered the pavilion, resplendent though he 
 was, he found it difficult to carry himself before 
 his tutor as he ordinarily did. Because of his 
 lost self-esteem, he bore himself with unusual 
 formality. He was glad rather than sorry to 
 find two of his brothers also present. 
 
 "I am inviting myself to dine with you, 
 Adams Effendi," he said. He had never called 
 Lionel anything except "Addam," since that 
 night when, as a boy of four, he had first seen 
 him; and the "effendi," combined with the ex- 
 aggerated aloofness of the boy, convinced the 
 Englishman that something of grave impor- 
 tance had happened. He received him, how- 
 ever, as if he perceived nothing unusual in his 
 manner. 
 
 During the progress of the dinner Lionel fur- 
 tively observed Bayazet, while directing most of 
 his conversation to his other two pupils. Baya- 
 zet was like a changeling. He seemed to be 
 years older; his eyes Were hard and cold, and 
 
 248
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 avoided meeting those of the tutor. After din- 
 ner they all played backgammon, and Lionel 
 felt that it was only by the most tremendous 
 effort of will that the boy managed to play at 
 all. 
 
 While the game was in progress Lala Shed- 
 din appeared. He addressed himself to Baya- 
 zet: 
 
 "The Padishah would like to see you, 
 prince." 
 
 He flattened himself against the wall as 
 Bayazet passed him, and then followed. 
 
 The Englishman continued the game me- 
 chanically with the other princes, his mind fol- 
 lowing Bayazet up to the palace, and hoping 
 against hope that no ill might come of this in- 
 terview. He was relieved when at last the 
 other two princes rose and bade him good-night. 
 He was in no mood for games; for the face 
 of Lala Sheddin had been grave, and the air 
 surcharged with apprehension. The affairs of 
 all of them seemed rapidly approaching a crisis. 
 
 He extinguished the lights and went out of 
 doors, and paced up and down in front of his 
 pavilion, waiting, waiting, his life seemed to 
 
 249
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 be made up of waiting, and he knew not for 
 what. It was not likely that he could learn any- 
 thing more to-night, yet he could not bring 
 himself to try to sleep. Hour after hour went 
 by, while tirelessly he padded up and down, up 
 and down, in the dark. His nerves were on such 
 a tension that physical fatigue refused to come 
 to him and rest them. Once in the night he 
 heard the rhythmic step of the royal guard on 
 its way to relieve the detachment on duty. 
 
 Before the first narrow gleam of light ap- 
 peared in the east Lala Sheddin came, silently, 
 out of the night. * 
 
 "You have not gone to bed." 
 
 "No. Has anything happened?" 
 
 "The worst that could happen. Bayazet 
 has struck his father." 
 
 The two men stood for a moment in dead 
 silence. 
 
 "And what will that mean?" Lionel's lips 
 were so dry that they could hardly enunciate 
 the words. 
 
 "He who touches the sacred person of the 
 Calif cannot be permitted to live. That is the 
 law." 
 
 250
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Again there was silence. It was as if Lionel's 
 mind had lost its faculties. That proud little 
 Bayazet must die was too horrible a thought to 
 be grasped. 
 
 "Last night was not the beginning," Lala 
 Sheddin went on. " In the afternoon, the Sultan 
 I do not know why fell into one of his 
 rages. The boy was there. In some way he had 
 caused it. As near as I can make out, it was 
 through his resemblance to his mother. I sent 
 the boy to you, hoping that when the Sultan 
 awoke from the sleep into which he always falls 
 after a rage, he would have forgotten about 
 Bayazet. He had not." 
 
 "But the father in the Calif " Lionel be- 
 gan, with a ray of hope. 
 
 "There is no father in the Calif when he be- 
 gins to fear, and ridiculous as it may sound 
 to you, the Sultan is now afraid of Bayazet. 
 Last night, when he ordered me to bring the 
 boy to him, there was something sinister in his 
 manner. On the way to the palace I warned 
 Bayazet, as openly as I dared; and when he 
 came into his father's presence he was all cour- 
 tesy and ceremony. So perfect was his behavior 
 
 251
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 that I began to breathe freer till I saw that 
 the Sultan only grew the more possessed with a 
 kind of cold fury. Then 1 knew that nothing 
 would avail. To excuse his conduct of the after- 
 noon, he ruthlessly tore at the curtain of life: 
 he made everything which was sacred and un- 
 uttered in the boy's mind an ugly orgy of vice. 
 At last he even began to use phrases degrad- 
 ing to the boy's mother " 
 
 "Before you?" Lionel cried. 
 
 " I was not present but I heard. Baya- 
 zet had endured everything up to that. Then 
 he raised his hand and struck the Sultan on the 
 mouth."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 "YANGIN!" 
 
 IN the dark the two men stood speechless, 
 after Lala Sheddin's fateful words. The night 
 itself seemed to hold its breath and hearken. 
 Lionel's thoughts flew to the woman who, 
 more than he, more than Lala Sheddin, would 
 suffer. 
 
 "And she does she know?" he asked. 
 
 "I have just come from her." 
 
 Again there fell silence, a dry, lifeless silence, 
 broken huskily by the words of the eunuch : 
 
 " In all my planning I did not foresee such a 
 possibility as this." 
 
 "But is there no chance no hope that the 
 Sultan may relent?" Lionel persisted. "From 
 the pride he has felt in the boy, may he not con- 
 sider some lesser punishment? Surely, his fear 
 of him cannot be strong enough to make him 
 wish for Bayazet's death, in cold blood." 
 
 "You do not know the history of the rulers 
 of Islam. They do not change their minds when 
 
 253
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 once fear has sprouted. It was even so with 
 Solyman the Magnificent. He had a son who 
 was his greatest joy; but when Khourrem, the 
 Russian favorite, the one you Europeans 
 call Roxalana, roused the suspicions of the 
 Sultan against his son, all the love of the father 
 was burned to ashes. At the time Solyman was 
 preparing for his second war against' Persia. He 
 started for Asia Minor and sent for his son. 
 Prince Mustapha arrived at the tent alone, 
 thinking to have an audience with his father. 
 Instead, he was received by seven mutes, who 
 sprang at him with the fatal bowstring. Musta- 
 pha was strong and agile. He made a tremen- 
 dous resistance, calling upon his father for 
 mercy. Solyman was in the inner division of 
 the tent, and so impatient was he to make an 
 end to the son he feared that he rushed in and 
 urged the mutes on to finish the strangling. 
 Do you think, if Solyman the Magnificent had 
 his sons killed, one after the other, because 
 of fear, that it would be possible to move a 
 man of my master's caliber to mercy?" 
 
 "Have you tried?" 
 
 Lala Sheddin gave a short laugh. "Have I 
 254
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 tried! / clamored for the boy's death cried 
 out that it must be lingering and hard. I have 
 enemies in the palace. Such an opportunity for 
 my downfall they would have grasped only too 
 eagerly had I not been the first to hound him 
 whom my master hated." 
 
 "You have no plan, then?" 
 
 "Five days' start of death only. Bayazet is 
 to die by starvation, tantalized by the sight 
 of food that he cannot reach. Thus may my 
 master gloat over his dying. That is all the 
 plan I have : we know Bayazet can fast so long. 
 How I now bless Kizatesh Sultana for that 
 foolish test of hers !" 
 
 "Where is he imprisoned?" 
 
 " In the room next his father's, and the father 
 holds the key." 
 
 "You have no other key to the room? There 
 is no secret passage leading to it?" 
 
 The eunuch shook his head. 
 
 "You could not smuggle in a locksmith to 
 make a key?" Lionel persisted. 
 
 " What mad ideas are in your brain ! You 
 do not know the genius my master has for sus- 
 picion." 
 
 255
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Could Anton Effendi come without arous- 
 ing suspicion?" 
 
 "Anton Effendi! What for?" 
 
 "He can make a key to that lock." 
 
 "My boy, have you gone mad? Anton Ef- 
 fendi is a very clever man, a statesman, who 
 can cook, but he is not a locksmith." 
 
 With the speed of thought Lionel decided 
 that the occasion warranted breaking his 
 promise to the little Greek not to betray his 
 secret. Succinctly he told the eunuch of the 
 time when he and Anton Effendi had left the 
 place at night to visit the ramparts of old 
 Byzantium, and of the Greek's mechanical 
 talents which rendered this possible. 
 
 Lala Sheddin listened without interrupting. 
 
 "And to think I should never even have sus- 
 pected this," he murmured, his chagrin mani- 
 fest. "Well, go to him. Find out if he will risk 
 his neck to help us; tell him Kizatesh Sultana 
 is of pure Cretan blood. That will have more 
 weight with him than any amount of abstract 
 mercy, or justice, a pure Cretan, remember." 
 
 "I will go at once." 
 
 "No. The dawn is already beginning to 
 256
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 break. It will arouse suspicion if you go at this 
 hour, and there must be nothing unusual in 
 your actions to-day. To-night, after all are 
 asleep, go to him." 
 
 At last the day was at an end, the first ter- 
 rible day of Bayazet's imprisonment. Lionel 
 was waiting for the hour when he might go to 
 Anton Effendi. Of a sudden all his muscles 
 stiffened. What was the noise upstairs in his 
 sleeping-chamber? It was like a footfall as 
 if some one, or something, had jumped through 
 the window. Now it was moving, so lightly that 
 had his senses not been keyed up to almost super- 
 human intensity he would not have heard it. 
 
 He rose, moved softly to the foot of the 
 stairs and stood, tense, alert, expecting he 
 knew not what. And then, the door of his room 
 opened, and bathed in the moonlight, which 
 streamed in through his window, he saw 
 Kizatesh Sultana. 
 
 Slowly, like a vision, she came down the 
 
 stairs, until they stood facing each other, in the 
 
 mysterious light, filtering in from outside. 
 
 Neither spoke. He had seen her only once, 
 
 257
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 five years before, and impossible though it 
 was that she, the guarded captive of the Sultan, 
 should be here, he had not an instant's doubt 
 of her identity. But hardly had the joy of be- 
 holding her leaped up in his heart, before it was 
 followed by the fear for the terrible risk she was 
 running. The rush of feeling which overpow- 
 ered him held him speechless. 
 
 In her dark eyes, on her slender face, there 
 was no fear : anxiety, perhaps, but if there was 
 anxiety, it seemed not to be for any possible 
 danger for herself; rather it was as if she sought 
 in his countenance a reassurance for some hope 
 with regard to him. 
 
 At last he spoke: "How can you run such 
 risks?" The sentence was commonplace enough. 
 It was the tone, the accents of his voice which 
 gave it all he felt. 
 
 "Five years ago, in the darkest hour of my 
 life, I prayed to Allah above, and that same 
 day you came to the palace. Allah sent you. 
 Now it is a still darker hour for me, so I 
 come to you." 
 
 " But the risk you are running, if you should 
 be found here," he persisted. 
 
 258
 
 "I had to come and no one can find me 
 here. Allah's trees out there touch my room, 
 and touch yours. I passed from one to the 
 other, and came to you. I shall go back as I 
 came. Let us lose no time. I have come to beg 
 you to do something for me." 
 
 "I will do anything you wish me to." 
 
 "Will you take my son away with you to 
 your country?" 
 
 "Is Bayazet free?" 
 
 "He is still a prisoner, but the Sultan will 
 give him to me. His release will be only tem- 
 porary; for my son has touched the holy per- 
 son of the Calif, and he must die. That is the 
 law. For a day I believe I can obtain his 
 freedom. Will you, on that day, steal away 
 with him to your own country? He loves you, 
 and I I give him to you to be yours." 
 
 "You wish to send Bayazet away from the 
 palace from you forever?" 
 
 "Yes. Like the mother eagle, I must tear the 
 nest, and for home give him the heights to soar 
 in. To the heights, to Allah, and to you I give 
 my son. Take him, lord." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 259
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "I do not matter," she replied softly. 
 
 "You do matter!" His heart cried out the 
 words. 
 
 A wonder-light came into her eyes, and the 
 soul of the woman leaped out to the soul of the 
 man, though neither spoke. From outside, the 
 soft rays of the moon filtered in, and the essence 
 of the flowers commingled with a faint, pungent 
 perfume which clung caressingly to her. For a 
 full minute the two were lost in a realm of en- 
 chantment, until, with a sigh, Kizatesh Sultana 
 recalled herself out of this other realm in which 
 present and past and future seemed all distilled 
 into one moment so intense that it comprised 
 all eternity in itself. 
 
 She drew a long breath of reluctant return to 
 the present. "There is no way to free Bayazet, 
 except through me. For him, I must give myself 
 and the moments are precious. When he is 
 free, you will take him away with you. Promise 
 me!" 
 
 He did not answer. She leaned a little toward 
 him, urgently. 
 
 A loud knocking shattered the silence of the 
 pavilion. Instinctively Lionel took a step for- 
 
 260
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 ward, and as instinctively Kizatesh Sultana 
 shrank toward the protection of his arms. 
 
 The knocking came again, and a voice cried : 
 "Effendi! Effendi! Come out." 
 
 " It is Lala Sheddin," Lionel whispered. "Go, 
 go at once!" He lifted the slender form of the 
 woman in his arms, and ran up the stairs. 
 "Go!" he repeated, as he put her down on the 
 veranda. "I will keep Lala Sheddin engaged 
 until you are safe, away." 
 
 She joined her slender hands pleadingly. 
 "Tell me that you will take my son away with 
 you." 
 
 The knocking at the door came again. 
 
 "Please give me the answer now," she im- 
 plored. 
 
 The knocking grew louder, and from the tones 
 of Lala Sheddin's voice Lionel knew that some- 
 thing urgent called. 
 
 "If what you ask is the only way to save 
 him, I will do as you wish only go now." 
 
 Before he realized what she was about to do, 
 she had taken his hand, raised it to her lips, and 
 was gone. 
 
 With some delay to give her time to 
 261
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 effect her escape Lionel opened the door. 
 Lala Sheddin, paler and more agitated than the 
 Englishman had ever seen him, stood on the 
 threshold. 
 
 "Come come quickly!" 
 
 The words were not out of his mouth before 
 he was rushing off underneath the trees. An 
 eighth of a mile away they came upon Prince 
 Murad, crouching at the foot of one of the trees. 
 His face was turned upward, his nostrils snuf- 
 fing like those of an animal on the trail of its 
 prey, and his eyes roved alertly to right and to 
 left. He paid no attention to the approach of 
 the two men. He was muttering to himself: 
 
 "Here it was! Here I lost it! But I shall find 
 it; it cannot escape me. And then I shall tear 
 it to pieces, and drink its blood." 
 
 In spite of the fair mould in which he had 
 been cast, the young man did not seem to be a 
 human being, and he laughed the laugh of one 
 who has sunk to a plane lower than that of the 
 beasts. 
 
 Lionel's brain worked rapidly. Kizatesh 
 Sultana was moving through the tree-tops to- 
 ward this spot. Her progress must be much 
 
 262
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 slower than theirs had been, yet she would soon 
 be near. He fancied even now that he heard the 
 rustling of leaves, as of a person moving through 
 the trees. At all risks Prince Murad must be 
 got away from here. 
 
 He stepped forward, and without ceremony 
 picked up the puny form and started with it 
 rapidly for his pavilion. 
 
 After the youth's first struggle of resistance, 
 Lionel was surprised to have him lie quite quiet 
 and contented in his arms. Even after reaching 
 the house, and after Lala Sheddin had struck 
 a light, Prince Murad did not try to free him- 
 self. He lay still, like a contented baby, his face 
 close to the tutor's breast, snuffing at his 
 clothes, as if they contained a perfume that 
 fascinated him. 
 
 , For a few seconds Lala Sheddin watched the 
 strange sight with his keen, small eyes; then 
 he began an extraordinary performance. He 
 took the papers from the waste-basket, twisted 
 them up into wisps, and set them on fire, filling 
 the room with the acrid smell of burning paper. 
 
 With astonishment Lionel watched the eu- 
 nuch, his attention for the moment distracted 
 
 263
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 from Prince Murad, who, even after he was re- 
 leased, continued to hover around the English- 
 man. 
 
 "Why are you doing that?" Lionel asked. 
 
 The eunuch's only reply was to approach the 
 Englishman and begin to rub the charred paper 
 over his coat. At this, Prince Murad blazed 
 into sudden passion, and struck the eunuch 
 again and again blows which Lala Sheddin 
 received without complaint on his broad chest. 
 
 "Why did you spoil the lovely perfume?" 
 the prince cried shrilly. "It was the same I 
 scented in the trees." 
 
 Instinctively, Lionel stepped forward and 
 held out his arm to ward off the blows from the 
 unresisting eunuch. At that Prince Murad's 
 fury turned against him, and he aimed a savage 
 blow at Lionel. The latter evaded it, and the 
 prince, losing his balance, fell to the floor. In 
 falling he struck the edge of the table, and his 
 nose began to bleed copiously. 
 
 The sight of his own blood frightened the 
 young man, and he lay still, moaning piteously. 
 Lala Sheddin picked him up and laid him on 
 a couch. Then from an inner pocket he pro- 
 
 264
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 duced a small silver box and, opening it, took 
 out some brown leaves from it which he begged 
 the prince to sniff in order to stop the bleeding. 
 The youth complied, and in a minute the bleed- 
 ing ceased, his sobs grew less, and he lay quite 
 still on the divan. 
 
 Lala Sheddin watched him gradually lose 
 consciousness, until he was in deep slumber. 
 "It would be better, perhaps," he murmured, 
 "if I let you sleep on, and never wake." 
 
 There was something in the tones of the 
 eunuch that frightened the Englishman. "What 
 have you done?" he demanded. 
 
 Lala Sheddin tapped the little silver box in 
 his hand. "The East has ways of its own to deal 
 with life, my friend. These leaves, carefully 
 used, bring sleep. A little more, tied upon the 
 forehead, and the sleep becomes never-ending." 
 
 Sorrowfully he looked down upon the relaxed 
 form. The eyebrows were contracted. The 
 mouth, that had been beautiful, was now loose 
 and sensual, and the lynx that had once attacked 
 him had done the rest to mar his face. 
 
 "Once or twice before," Lala Sheddin went 
 on, "I have known such as he. They are more 
 
 265
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 dangerous than the wholly mad. When he 
 awakes, he will remember the perfume; he will 
 return here and he will make your life a tor- 
 ment. There is no telling what harm he may 
 not do." 
 
 For a time Lala Sheddin became lost in 
 thought; then deliberately he took a large 
 handkerchief from his pocket and opened the 
 lid of his silver box. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" Lionel asked 
 sternly. 
 
 " I am going to take no chances." 
 
 Lionel put his hand on the eunuch's arm 
 authoritatively. "You cannot do that," he 
 said. 
 
 "There are times when a worthless life must 
 be sacrificed to a better one. Your life is the 
 better one. He must die." 
 
 "I can take care of myself." 
 
 Lala Sheddin shook his head sadly. "You do 
 not know you have not seen such as he be- 
 fore. I saw his face when he inhaled that per- 
 fume from your coat. He will remember. You 
 think you are strong. So you are splendidly 
 strong, but " 
 
 266
 
 The Anglo-Saxon interrupted. 
 
 "You must not kill him. He may not re- 
 member when he wakes up. If he does if it 
 becomes necessary I will ask your aid. Not 
 
 now." 
 
 Lala Sheddin slowly put the leaves back into 
 the box, and the box into his inner pocket. 
 
 "You are too civilized. To save a vicious and 
 a worthless life for the mere sake of saving life 
 is not strong it is sentimental." Then, sud- 
 denly, he demanded : "Tell me, did you have 
 time to speak with her? " 
 
 Lionel was dumbfounded. "You knew?" he 
 gasped. 
 
 "Lionel Effendi, you do not think that she 
 would have taken such risks without telling 
 me! It was I who told her that if she asked you 
 herself I felt sure that you would agree to take 
 her boy away with you." 
 
 Lala Sheddin went to the door and locked it. 
 Then he took up the lighted candle: 
 
 "Let us go upstairs. Murad is only lightly 
 under the influence of the narcotic, and he is 
 cunning enough to pretend still to be uncon- 
 scious after he awakes." 
 267
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 When the two men were seated upstairs, Lala 
 Sheddin went on: "Did you give her the assur- 
 ance she craved? Did you tell her you would 
 take the boy away?" 
 
 "How does she expect to get possession of 
 Bayazet?" 
 
 "There is only one way: for him she must 
 give herself. She will do this, and then she will 
 put herself to sleep forever, knowing that the 
 boy is safe with you." 
 
 The Englishman made no comment, and a 
 tense silence followed. Presently the eunuch 
 leaned forward and touched Lionel's arm. 
 
 "It will not be difficult, and you will run no 
 risk. The night that he is free I will smuggle 
 the boy here. A boat from Manlove Pasha's 
 yacht will come to the shore. You will step into 
 it and the palace, and all that it has been, 
 will melt out of your life." 
 
 There followed a pause, broken by Lala 
 Sheddin adding persuasively: "The secret com- 
 partment on the yacht is already prepared. No 
 one will be able to find you you see, it will 
 not be difficult. And in your own country you 
 will resume your own name, and no one will 
 
 268
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 identify you with the imperial tutor who for 
 five years was here." 
 
 Lionel was gazing out under the trees into 
 the deep shadows, and spoke no word. Lala 
 Sheddin waited until even his patience was 
 worn out. 
 
 "She has been dreaming this dream for the 
 last five years, and not once did she think that 
 you would fail her." 
 
 The Englishman shook himself, as if to 
 awaken from a trance. He rose and paced up 
 and down the room; then he stopped in front of 
 Lala Sheddin. 
 
 "I cannot do it," he said in a strained voice. 
 
 "You mean that you refuse to help her?" 
 the eunuch asked. 
 
 "Can't you see? Can't you understand?" 
 Lionel burst forth. "How can I leave her to 
 such a fate even to save her son?" 
 
 Lala Sheddin sprang to his feet and threw his 
 arm around Lionel's shoulders. 
 
 "Ah!" he cried, in a tone of deep satisfac- 
 tion. "Ah! That is what I longed to hear. 
 While she was making her plan, I was making 
 mine. Hers was to give you Bayazet and die. 
 269
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Mine was to save them both. Now that you 
 have spoken " 
 
 From outside the door came a slight scratch- 
 ing sound. In an instant both men had sprung 
 to the door and opened it, and there crouched 
 Prince Murad, crawling like a reptile on the 
 ground, following the scent of Kizatesh Sul- 
 tana's perfume. 
 
 "I feared this," the eunuch said hoarsely. 
 "He would follow her through the trees to her 
 rooms. Take him downstairs, quick. I will join 
 you in a minute." 
 
 The Englishman did as he was ordered, half- 
 carrying, half-dragging Prince Murad down- 
 stairs. Lala Sheddin, left alone, acted quickly. 
 With a candle in each hand, he moved swiftly 
 from curtain to curtain, setting them on fire 
 all over the upper floor. Then he opened the 
 door and placed a chair in the doorway, in 
 order that there might be a good draft of air, 
 and then ran down to the other two. 
 
 "We must save ourselves the house is on 
 fire!" he shouted. 
 
 Already the rush of the flames could be heard, 
 and Prince Murad was paralyzed with fear. 
 
 270
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Come, my prince, come with me! You" 
 to Lionel " stay behind and save what you 
 can." Murad was now shrieking and trembling. 
 In an undertone, to the Englishman, Lala 
 Sheddin added : " Set everything on fire down 
 here, and then go to the cook's pavilion. Let 
 no one except him see you. Every one must be- 
 lieve that you have been burned alive. Fate is 
 with us to-night." 
 
 The eunuch took hold of the arm of the dis- 
 tracted prince. "Come, I will save you," he 
 coaxed. 
 
 The young man threw himself into the arms 
 of the eunuch, and was borne away. 
 
 Rapidly Lionel did as he had been ordered, 
 setting fire to everything inflammable on the 
 ground floor. When in twenty different places 
 the flames were burning joyously, he took one 
 last look at the rooms where he had spent the 
 last five years of his life the years of his re- 
 generation. His heart contracted with regret 
 at the thought that never again should he see 
 the pavilion, but he did not stop for any senti- 
 mentalizing. He stepped out and locked the 
 door, in order that the greedy flames might not 
 
 271
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 easily be disturbed at their feast, and then 
 cautiously started for the cook's abode. 
 
 He had not gone far before a sudden light 
 flooded the sky, and in the stillness of the night 
 he could even hear the crackling which told 
 him that all that had been his was being re- 
 duced to ashes, and along with it a man called 
 Burton Adams a man for whom he enter- 
 tained considerable respect. It seemed to him 
 that he was witnessing his own funeral pyre; 
 and yet through it all a secret joy possessed him. 
 He had seen her! He had spoken with her! He 
 had looked into her dark eyes, and what he had 
 seen there had filled him with exultation. She 
 was to be saved, and he was to take her away 
 to free England. He did not know how, but 
 Lala Sheddin had said that the Fates were with 
 them that night, and he had faith in this shrewd 
 man's resources. 
 
 The sound of running steps came to his ears, 
 and the cry of "Yangin!" (fire), and he hid 
 himself in a thicket of trees. His journey to 
 Anton Effendi's pavilion was not easy. Since 
 he was to be dead in the morning, it was very 
 important that no one should see him this night. 
 
 272
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Finally, he reached the thick hedge of cypresses 
 which surrounded the Greek's abode. He 
 wormed his way within it, and listened. The 
 excitement of the fire had evidently not reached 
 here. There was no sign of life. He waited until 
 he was absolutely certain that no one stirred; 
 then he made his way to the house, found a 
 window that was open, and entered. He knew 
 where Anton Effendi's room was, and groped 
 his way to it. The door was unlocked, and he 
 opened it, at the same time speaking Anton 
 Effendi's name. He did not wish to be shot 
 before he could make himself known. 
 
 There came no reply, even after he had 
 spoken again. Was the Greek, perhaps, away 
 from home? This would be disastrous, indeed. 
 He stepped to the bed, and found him there, a 
 heavy sleeper. At the third shake he was roused. 
 
 "Who is there?" he called sharply. 
 
 "Hush! It is I." 
 
 "Upon my word!" the Greek exclaimed. 
 "What has happened?" He sat up in bed, in 
 his fluffy, silk pajamas. 
 
 "My pavilion is on fire, and with it I am sup- 
 posed to be burning up." 
 
 273
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Ah!" The Greek's quick mind was already 
 threading its way through a fabric of thought. 
 "Wait a moment, my handsome young friend." 
 He raised a be jeweled finger to impose silence. 
 "To-night you die yet you live here, and 
 wait. When you go do you go alone ? " 
 
 Lionel made no reply to this. 
 
 "It is as I thought," the Greek continued, 
 with satisfaction, tapping his own breast to 
 indicate the source of wisdom. "You are in 
 love I knew it all along and in love as it 
 comes once in a lifetime to one man in a 
 million. Am I right?" 
 
 "Anton Effendi will you help me?" the 
 Englishman asked.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 "iN THE THICK OF IT" 
 
 SEATED on the edge of the Greek's bed Lionel 
 told him in his quiet way the whole story of 
 Kizatesh Sultana. After he had finished, he 
 asked again : 
 
 "Now that you know everything, will you 
 help us, Anton Effendi?" 
 
 The Greek nodded. For the moment he 
 could not speak. His sentimental nature had 
 flamed into such enthusiasm that it choked his 
 utterance. 
 
 "Help you!" he burst forth finally: "I shall 
 do more I shall dower her. My money be- 
 longs to Greece but she is Greece the 
 noblest part the ever-rising, ever-struggling 
 Crete. I shall give her twenty thousand pounds. 
 But now, my friend, you must sleep. Your 
 strength and nerves must be conserved. It will 
 not be as easy to get the Sultan's wife and son 
 out of the palace as if they were two sacks of 
 meal. Have you any outside assistance?" 
 
 275
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Manlove Pasha and a Turkish carrier whom 
 I helped once, and who has promised to help 
 me out of any difficulty"; and Lionel told the 
 Greek of his meeting with Kipruli Ali on the 
 day of his arrival in Turkey; and also about the 
 secret compartment which had been prepared 
 on the yacht. 
 
 "We know little of the unseen forces," Anton 
 Effendi commented; "yet can we doubt that 
 from the beginning you have played Fate's 
 game, and that now all the combinations have 
 culminated? Ah, there is a Supreme Power 
 that directs our faltering efforts. Why should 
 you have come to Turkey and become the im- 
 perial tutor the most unlikely destiny one 
 could have imagined for you? Why should I, 
 the man of letters, of statecraft, of puddings, 
 why should I possess this queer mechanical 
 streak? Why should Kipruli Ali, and Manlove 
 Pasha, and you, from the four corners of the 
 earth, have chanced to come together on 
 that day? Ah, I tell you " 
 
 Anton Eifendi's face was alight, his delicate 
 hands were gesturing passionately: he was evi- 
 dently well launched on one of his great dis- 
 
 276
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 sertations, when suddenly he stopped, laugh- 
 ing: 
 
 "My besetting sin! If Nero fiddled while 
 Rome burned, I could philosophize while the 
 world crumbled beneath me. John Chrysostom 
 there was the happiest man who ever lived ! 
 He could talk always and always be listened 
 to. But I am not he, and I must see to your 
 comfort and safety." 
 
 He rose from his bed, and, wrapping his 
 diminutive figure in a most elaborate dressing- 
 gown, unlocked the door which led into a small 
 room next his bedroom. It was his secret 
 locksmith shop. 
 
 "This must be transformed into your apart- 
 ment until the time comes for your escape." 
 
 Deftly he made it ready, moving benches and 
 tools to one side of the room, and bringing in 
 rugs and pillows. 
 
 "During my absence you will have to remain 
 in here. When I am in my room you may come 
 into it and exercise your young limbs a bit. We 
 must try to keep you in condition; for your 
 English machinery needs constant use to be 
 kept in order. You are a much handicapped 
 
 277
 
 1\HE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 race, and yet you are proud of this terrible need 
 of exercise." He shook his head in perplexity. 
 "I have tried to understand it, but I cannot. 
 / don't need it: my mind exercises, and that is 
 enough. I will leave you to sleep now, and lock 
 you in. We must take no chances nor forget 
 that you are a dead man." 
 
 Lionel slept soundly until Anton Effendi un- 
 locked the door in the morning. 
 
 "Come!" the Greek said. "Lala Sheddin is 
 waiting to see you." 
 
 The eunuch greeted Lionel with a smile. 
 "There is sad news in the palace. Last night 
 the pavilion of the English tutor was burned, 
 and with it the young Englishman himself. I 
 found his body, and pulled it out of the ashes 
 with my own hands. And so burned was it that 
 it crumbled to pieces. I gathered the bones, 
 black and charred, and put them into a basket, 
 and now I am waiting for Manlove Pasha, who 
 was a friend of the young man, and to whom I 
 have sent word. Anton Effendi here is coming 
 to the palace to see my master, who is some- 
 what upset over the catastrophe. Death al- 
 ways affects the Sultan unpleasantly unless 
 
 278
 
 it be the death of some one he prefers to have 
 dead." 
 
 "Kizatesh Sultana does not think ?" 
 Lionel was beginning. 
 
 The eunuch waved a hand. " I have seen her. 
 She is sewing all her jewelry in a belt." 
 
 "She need not think of that," Lionel pro- 
 tested. 
 
 "She must, because Bayazet is an imperial 
 prince, and it is right that he should be edu- 
 cated accordingly." 
 
 "Is she ready to " 
 
 "You can rely on her courage." 
 
 "What are your plans?" 
 
 "They will depend on what luck Anton 
 Effendi has this morning, while he is waiting for 
 the Sultan to appear. Also on how easily Man- 
 love Pasha can be whipped into line. If Anton 
 Effendi succeeds, I shall persuade my imperial 
 master that Kizatesh Sultana has cast a spell 
 upon him, which may be broken by starving 
 her to death. And what more delicate means 
 than by putting her in the same room with her 
 boy, that each may be witness of the suffering 
 of the other." 
 
 279.
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Do you believe that you can manage that?" 
 both men asked at once. 
 
 "My master is in a mood which makes him 
 clay in my hands, for any deed of evil. Good- 
 bye, now; and Anton Effendi, after you have fed 
 our young friend here, come up to the palace." 
 
 With a number of the courtiers and several 
 of the princes Lala Sheddin met Manlove Pasha 
 and led him to the embers of the pavilion. There 
 the eunuch graphically described the fire and 
 the finding of the tutor's bones. 
 
 In the unemotional English way Manlove lis- 
 tened to him, and only the pallor and the set 
 lines of his face betrayed to those present how 
 hard the news was for him to bear. His figure 
 seemed to lose its athletic elasticity and to grow 
 old before their eyes, and Lala Sheddin, himself 
 overpowered by the sad occasion, whispered to 
 the company to go, and leave Manlove Pasha 
 alone. The eunuch followed the silently re- 
 treating men to the palace. Only there did 
 he say: "I had better go back and see what 
 arrangements Manlove Pasha wishes to make 
 about the funeral." 
 
 280
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 He found the Englishman leaning against a 
 tree, and staring before him with unseeing eyes. 
 The eunuch approached and stood close beside 
 the stricken man, and in an ordinary conversa- 
 tional tone inquired : 
 
 "You could anchor your yacht opposite the 
 shore here, could you not?" 
 
 Manlove Pasha looked up quickly. 
 
 "Don't alter your attitude," the eunuch 
 went on in an even tone. "Remain mournful 
 and sad. We know the stars are always in the 
 sky, though they may be invisible to us, and 
 in the palace there are always eyes to spy." 
 
 Manlove Pasha passed his hand over his 
 forehead. "Is Lionel " He did not finish the 
 sentence. 
 
 "Burton Adams is dead," the eunuch volun- 
 teered. "Lionel Deguerney I know no such 
 person." 
 
 In spite of the warning he had received, Man- 
 love grasped the eunuch's arm. 
 
 "Why did you not prepare me? Why did you 
 take me through this misery?" 
 
 "I thought it necessary. If there was the 
 slightest doubt in the minds of any your 
 281
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 grief has dispelled it. Not for gold could I have 
 bought such acting. Moreover, I had to think 
 of your safety. With the tutor dead, you will 
 hardly be connected with the events which are 
 to follow. Your papers will be clear, and you 
 will sail from here to England with the remains 
 of the young man." 
 
 "May I inquire who else is to sail on my 
 yacht with the remains of the young man?" 
 
 "Only a woman and a child." 
 
 Manlove's first impulse was to strike the 
 eunuch. He controlled himself, and rigidly 
 remarked: 
 
 "I had been given to understand that in 
 this case there was no intrigue no woman. 
 Now it appears there is a woman and a 
 child." 
 
 "Yes," the eunuch absented blandly, "and 
 the woman is one of the Sultan's wives." 
 
 To be on the safe side the Englishman thrust 
 his hands deep into his pockets. The eunuch 
 caught the gleam in his eyes, and added in a 
 cautioning manner: 
 
 "Yes, keep your hands in your pockets 
 and remember that you are a bereaved man, 
 
 282
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 and that Lionel is still within the palace en- 
 closure." 
 
 During the pause that followed, Manlove 
 Pasha mastered his indignation, and when he 
 spoke it was in his ordinary quiet voice : 
 
 "And now, just what do you expect of 
 me?" 
 
 "To sit on your yacht and risk nothing. If 
 we, down here, succeed, some night we shall 
 bring our cargo to you : you will store it in your 
 secret compartment, and by sunrise you will 
 sail away for England." 
 
 "By 'we,' whom do you mean?" 
 
 "Lionel Effendi, Anton Effendi, and myself." 
 
 "Do you mean to say that you have confided 
 in that contemptible little Greek, who is hardly 
 a man?" 
 
 "Quite so! He is hardly a man. I am what 
 I am yet we are both risking our lives for 
 others my perfect man, Manlove Pasha!" 
 
 The Englishman accepted the rebuke. "What 
 are your plans tell them to me." 
 
 "We hope somehow to get into the room next 
 the Sultan's own, and to rescue a woman and a 
 child whom he is starving to death. We hope 
 
 283
 
 tHE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 to get them to the shore and then to your 
 yacht if nothing goes wrong." 
 
 "And you expect me to sit calmly on my 
 yacht and wait for all this to happen?" Man- 
 love demanded. 
 
 "No," Lala Sheddin corrected. "I expect 
 you to be right with us in the thick of the 
 danger." 
 
 "But a minute ago you said " 
 
 "That was the quickest way to show you 
 where your place was." 
 
 "Damn you, man!" Manlove blurted out. 
 
 "Damn, if you like, but watch Anton Ef- 
 fendi, and note when he takes to using a red 
 silk pocket handkerchief affording the Eu- 
 ropean diplomats new proofs of what a con- 
 temptible little man he is. Anton Effendi has 
 found it convenient all these years to be an 
 object for laughter. This new eccentricity will 
 tell you to anchor your yacht as near the shore 
 here as you can without exciting suspicion. 
 You understand now why I have always insisted 
 that you should come in a boat when you 
 wished to visit Lionel Effendi. If you have to 
 get away in a hurry, you will know your way. 
 
 284
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Go now and don't forget that you are a sor- 
 row-stricken man. Get your ship's papers in 
 order. It will be natural for you to arrange 
 about a funeral service with the English clergy- 
 man. That will account for the delay in your 
 sailing."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 "AT LEAST LET ME DIE LIKE A MAN" 
 
 ANTON EFFENDI was waiting in the Sultan's 
 own room, whither he had been summoned, for 
 his august master to return. He was restless, 
 and paced up and down, stopping here and 
 there to examine one object after another. His 
 fingers constantly played with his string of 
 beads, such as most Turks and Greeks of Con- 
 stantinople carry as habitually as an English- 
 man carries a walking-stick. To both they are 
 companions : they occupy the hands, and soothe 
 the nerves. 
 
 If, somewhere, invisible to the little Greek, 
 a spy was watching him, he acted for the spy's 
 benefit with great art. Of course, every one 
 knew that Anton Effendi was queer. On this 
 day it was in the handling of his beads that his 
 queerness showed. They were a lustrous string, 
 yellow, like translucent wax, and worth a small 
 fortune; yet the Greek treated them petu- 
 lantly. He swung them back and forth, and 
 
 286
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 tossed them into the air; twice he threw them 
 from him on a couch; once he twisted them 
 around a gold water pitcher, standing back and 
 surveying the effect they made. Again, he 
 looped them over the knob of the door leading 
 into the next room. Here they seemed to get 
 caught, and with an ejaculation of impatience 
 he fumbled with them until he got them loose 
 again. 
 
 He continued pacing up and down until the 
 Sultan arrived. As the Padishah entered 
 through the doorway, Anton Effendi stood rigid, 
 his head bowed, waiting for the Asiatic master 
 of his country to give him leave to salute him. 
 
 Arrogantly the Sultan laughed, and did not 
 salute. He was in a bad mood. 
 
 "I want you to invent some dishes with so 
 entrancing an odor that the smell of them will 
 drive to madness those who cannot taste 
 them," he said abruptly. "That is all. Go!" 
 
 The Greek returned to his pavilion. He went 
 to his room, locked his door, and unlocked the 
 one which held Lionel prisoner. Silently he 
 took from his pocket his beads, and showed 
 them one by one to the Englishman. At the 
 
 287
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 fifth he stopped. It was a perfect match in color 
 to the others, but instead of being round, it was 
 flattened, and on it was the imprint of a key- 
 hole. 
 
 Lionel made a motion to take it. The Greek 
 drew it back. 
 
 "It would not fetch one hundredth the price 
 of the others, in the bazaar," he said, "yet it 
 is too precious to be touched and all the 
 wealth of the Sultan could not compensate you 
 for the loss of this bead." He examined it mi- 
 nutely. "It is a good impression," he added 
 with satisfaction. 
 
 "Will it take you long to make the key?" 
 Lionel asked eagerly. 
 
 "Life is a humorist," the Greek replied, dis- 
 regarding the question. "Of all the heroes of 
 ancient Greece, the one I least care for is wily 
 Ulysses; yet he is the one with whom I have 
 kinship. He comes to me in my hours of need 
 and becomes the pilot of my soul. Kismet! As 
 I said before, Life is a humorist." 
 
 From the moment Bayazet had struck his 
 father he knew that he must die. He had no 
 
 288
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 thought of trying to escape his fate: his only 
 anxiety was that he should die like a man, with- 
 out a whimper, should die as his mother - 
 as Addam would wish him to die. Upon this 
 his mind fixed itself, and gradually he brought 
 himself into a state of exaltation, where he felt 
 neither hunger nor thirst, where he could gaze 
 upon the food displayed beyond his reach as 
 if it were not there. He was like a young martyr, 
 and the spirit lifted him above and beyond the 
 body. 
 
 1 On the third day of his imprisonment the 
 door of his room opened and his mother came 
 in. He sprang to his feet with a cry of gladness; 
 then stopped and saluted her ceremoniously, 
 touching with his finger-tips the floor, his knee, 
 his heart, and his lips. 
 
 The sinister laugh of the Sultan broke upon 
 his ears. 
 
 "Mindful of your comfort, traitor son, I have 
 brought you a companion to share in your 
 banquets." 
 
 Bayazet bowed low before his father, but 
 without sign of fear, or any attempt to ingrati- 
 ate himself with him. His aloofness, and the fact 
 
 289
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 that he did not appear miserable, in spite of the 
 savory dishes sent to tantalize him, maddened 
 the Sultan. He took an angry step toward 
 his son; then halted and went no nearer. 
 The memory of the only blow he had ever re- 
 ceived in his life stayed him. From the door- 
 way he taunted Bayazet with the fate in store 
 for him and his mother. He even descended to 
 minute descriptions of food which he should 
 never taste again, in his effort to obtain some 
 sign of weakening from the boy. 
 
 Bayazet watched his father, his eyes shining 
 with a light that gradually silenced the Sultan, 
 and drove him from the room, furious, and 
 conscious of defeat. When the door closed be- 
 hind the monarch and left the two prisoners 
 alone, Kizatesh held out her arms to her son. 
 She had expected to find him weak, ready to cry 
 on her bosom, and to seek consolation from her 
 heart. Instead, she found him assuming that 
 it was his place to be the comforter. A fierce 
 pride took possession of Kizatesh Sultana at 
 the fortitude of her boy, a pride which lifted 
 her, too, above hunger and thirst, in the long 
 hours that followed. And both of them now had 
 
 290
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 a hope to buoy them up a hope based on the 
 knowledge that their friends outside were doing 
 all that men could do to effect their rescue. It 
 was these latter who really suffered the most. 
 Every mouthful that Lionel ate seemed to 
 choke him, when he knew that the woman he 
 loved was starving. Constantly he pictured to 
 himself her dry lips thirsting for water, and he 
 could hardly bring himself to take a swallow, 
 since she was deprived of it. It was Anton Ef- 
 fendi who during those intolerable days kept 
 the Englishman balanced, who gave him cour- 
 age. They had to proceed very slowly. Lala 
 Sheddin was overcautious, knowing that their 
 first attempt would be their last. Lionel and 
 Anton Effendi marveled at his astuteness, at 
 his coolness, and accepted his decisions without 
 question, even while they chafed at his caution. 
 
 At last the night for the attempt came. It 
 was a stormy night, such as Lala Sheddin had 
 hoped for, with flurries of rain and gusts of wind 
 to hide all noises. Of the elements, only the 
 flashes of lightning threatened to betray them. 
 
 Down to the last detail Lala Sheddin had 
 everything arranged. The guards under the 
 
 291
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Sultan's -windows, that night, would sleep in 
 sodden slumber. Kipruli Ali, blindfolded, and 
 blindly trusting, had been added to the small 
 rescue party. He knew the great adventure had 
 come : he did not seek to know more. Manlove 
 Pasha's yacht was anchored not far from the 
 shore. A boat was in readiness, manned by 
 members of the Brotherhood of Ships, men 
 devoted to Anton Effendi. 
 
 In the dark death-chamber, next to the Sul- 
 tan's room, Kizatesh Sultana and her son sat on 
 a couch. From time to time they dozed; then 
 the mother would wake with a start, as if by 
 keeping awake she could protect her son. 
 
 To her ears came the faint sound of a stealth- 
 ily moving key in the lock, and Kizatesh Sul- 
 tana's heart stopped beating. Was it Lala 
 Sheddin? Was it the Sultan, coming again to 
 taunt them, or was it something worse? Had he 
 tired of their slow dying, from which he had ob- 
 tained such small pleasure, and was he sending 
 mutes with the dreadful bowstrings to consum- 
 mate his revenge at once? 
 
 She felt for it was too dark to see the 
 door swing open on its noiseless, well-oiled 
 
 292
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 hinges. In a flash of lightning she saw a sinister, 
 bulky figure. 
 
 "Hush! It is I Lala Sheddin," came a soft 
 whisper, and the felt-shod eunuch moved near. 
 "Is Bayazet awake?" 
 
 Kizatesh Sultana leaned over and kissed her 
 son's forehead. He stirred, and awoke. 
 
 Lala Sheddin unwound a coil of heavy rope, 
 which had been wound around his waist under 
 his frock coat. He fastened one end of it, and 
 then let the rest down outside. 
 f Kizatesh had risen, and stood beside him. 
 "The bars how can you remove them?" she 
 asked breathlessly. 
 
 * Lala Sheddin took hold of one of them, gave 
 it a wrench with the whole weight of his power- 
 ful frame, and it came away from its fastenings. 
 "For eleven years I have known that it was not 
 secure," he said with a grim chuckle. "Knowl- 
 edge is always useful, in the end." 
 
 He peered down into the stormy blackness of 
 the night. The rope was taut and quivering. 
 
 "He wanted to come up, to share my 
 danger, he said, so I let him, though it is a 
 useless risk," he grumbled. 
 
 293
 
 Presently Lionel's head was on a level with 
 the window-sill it was not a long climb 
 and he clambered into the room. 
 
 "Now, quick! let them down by the rope, 
 while I watch by the door," the eunuch com- 
 manded. 
 
 With fingers trembling in their eagerness 
 Lionel fastened the rope around the boy's 
 waist, lifted him over the sill, and lowered him 
 to the ground. 
 
 Kizatesh Sultana stood beside him, so close 
 that he could hear her quick breathing. 
 
 "And now, you!" he said, after he had hauled 
 in the rope. It seemed a miracle to him that he 
 should be tying the rope around her waist 
 that only a minute stood between her imprison- 
 ment and her freedom, and that he should be 
 freeing her. But when he had lifted her over 
 the window-sill it seemed as if he could never let 
 her go. Looking down into the black chasm be- 
 low, an awful spasm of fear shot through him. 
 What if their plot had been discovered? What 
 if he were delivering her, not to freedom, but to 
 worse punishment than she had yet endured, 
 and never could hope to see her again! 
 
 294
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Hurry!" The sharp whisper of the eunuch 
 broke the spell that held him, and quickly 
 Lionel lowered her to the ground. When the 
 weight was off the rope, he still peered down 
 through the storm, trying to reassure himself 
 that all was well. 
 
 A flash of lightning illumined the scene, and 
 for an instant he saw Manlove Pasha, Kipruli 
 Ali, and Anton Effendi, with the woman and 
 the child. 
 
 Oddly enough the lightning seemed not to 
 have died away behind him. He glanced over 
 his shoulder, and there, just inside the door- 
 way, stood the Sultan. He held a candle in 
 one hand, a cocked and leveled revolver in the 
 other a weapon of which he was known to be 
 master. 
 
 Lionel's life was not worth a wisp of straw 
 until the light of the candle fell upon his face. 
 With a gasp the Sultan's right arm lost its aim, 
 and the candle flickered in his shaking hand. 
 A dead man stood before him, and in horrible 
 fascination the two stood and stared at each 
 other the Englishman whose life's hope was 
 snuffed out by the Sultan, and the mighty 
 295
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 ruler quailing before the spirit of a man, as he 
 could never quail before a man in the flesh. 
 
 Except for the flickering flame, all was still as 
 death. Only a shadow moved behind the Sultan 
 a door closed so softly that neither of the two 
 noticed it; and then, like a huge spider creeping 
 on his prey, the bony hand of the eunuch slid 
 over the shoulder of the Sultan, and gently 
 came to rest upon his wind-pipe. 
 
 At the touch of the cold fingers, the Sultan 
 started but it was too late. His revolver and 
 candle fell to the floor, but the door was closed, 
 and there were no other sounds only little 
 gurgles and convulsive writhings, such as the 
 powerless make in the grip of the powerful. 
 
 "Go! Go quickly!" Lala Sheddin whispered 
 hoarsely. 
 
 " I cannot desert you," Lionel replied. 
 
 "If I have earned any gratitude from you, 
 Lionel, go! I have not been allowed to live 
 as a man at least, let me die like one."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 IN THE NEVER-NEVER LAND 
 
 THE first person who boarded the white 
 yacht after it anchored at the Piraeus was Anton 
 Effendi. He was covered with dust, and his 
 tired countenance bespoke long and rapid 
 traveling. Manlove Pasha and Lionel were on 
 deck and hastened to receive him. 
 
 "What has happened?" Both asked the 
 question. 
 
 The Greek raised his hand. "Only good news, 
 my friends." He turned to Lionel: "My boy, 
 such as her marriage was, she is now free. The 
 Sultan of Turkey is no more. The world only 
 knows that he is ill. It does not accord with 
 Eastern statecraft to have a ruler die by other 
 than natural causes, i and that takes time; but 
 I wanted you to know." 
 
 He drew his diminutive figure up to as great 
 
 a height as he could command, and pointing to 
 
 the horizon, where the island of Crete rose above 
 
 the sea, he cried: "There is her birthplace! 
 
 297
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 Daughter of brave women and indomitable 
 men ! And here, within sight of the Parthenon, 
 she is freed from Mussulman shackles she is 
 a living emblem of the future of Greater Greece 
 a forerunner of the destiny which is to be 
 Constantinople's some day." 
 
 Any other man would have been absurd, ut- 
 tering these bombastic words; but there was 
 something about Anton Effendi which saved 
 his patriotic outbursts from ridicule. 
 
 "Lala Sheddin did not escape with you?" 
 Lionel asked with small hope. 
 
 "Lala Sheddin is freer than any of us. He 
 has gone where no man has power over the 
 destinies of other men." 
 
 "How did did he die?" 
 
 " Surely it matters little in what manner the 
 door of the prison is opened. But I will tell 
 you: his end was painless. We have ways of 
 escape, here in the East, when we are ready 
 for the great adventure. Now, will you give 
 me food and a place to rest, before I return to 
 Turkey?" 
 
 " Forgive me," Manlove Pasha cried. " Come 
 with me." 
 
 298
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Is it not dangerous for you to return?" 
 Lionel asked solicitously. 
 
 Anton Effendi laughed, and, ungloving his 
 hands, held them up for inspection. The light 
 of the setting sun caught the sparkle of the dia- 
 monds and rubies which adorned the highly 
 polished, slender fingers. 
 
 " Look at these hands, my friend. Could any 
 one with sense possibly associate them with 
 dangerous and heroic deeds?" From his head 
 he took his fez, and the breeze wafted his long 
 locks about his brow. "And this head this 
 vain head could it harbor any schemes other 
 than cheap amourettes? No, I am perfectly 
 safe to return to the land of the Crescent the 
 land of my fathers." 
 
 Manlove Pasha conducted the Greek away, 
 and Lionel went to the forward saloon, where 
 Kizatesh Sultana sat by the large window, 
 watching the glorious colors which the sun was 
 leaving in its wake. Bayazet was asleep on a 
 couch, his head in his mother's lap. At the 
 coming of the Englishman, Kizatesh turned 
 from the sky to the man, her eyes full of the 
 warmth of the hour. She blushed at sight of 
 
 299
 
 him, and instinctively started to cover her face. 
 The movement thrilled him, as every move- 
 ment of hers did. She was still unable to accus- 
 tom herself to seeing him freely. Her timidity 
 communicated itself to Lionel, and both were 
 like two very young people, conscious of the 
 marvelous wonder that was theirs, and which 
 had not yet been translated into speech. 
 
 She pointed to a chair. "Will you be seated, 
 effendi?" 
 
 Her voice, always soft and musical, acquired 
 an added richness of tone whenever she spoke 
 to Lionel; and the tone enchanted him and made 
 him wish to kneel before her and pour forth the 
 words which were clamoring for utterance. 
 Yet he only drew nearer the chair she had 
 pointed to, and said : 
 
 "Anton Effendi is here." He had meant to 
 add: "You are free free to be mine"; but he 
 only said, "The Sultan is dead." 
 
 She did not speak at once. After a while she 
 touched the head of her sleeping son. "Some 
 day his turn may come to help his people. He 
 must be made fit for his task." Then suddenly 
 she asked: "Where is Lala Sheddin?" 
 300
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Anton Effendi says that he has gone where 
 no man has power over the destinies of other 
 
 men." 
 
 She covered her face with her hands, white, 
 almost transparent little hands, and the long- 
 ing to touch them, to take them captive in his 
 own, nearly overpowered Lionel. Yet because 
 his love was so great he mastered his longing. 
 
 Presently she uncovered her face, and he saw 
 that she had not been crying. "Yes, Anton 
 Effendi is right: we must not mourn." 
 
 After this neither spoke for a long time. They 
 sat in the silence which draws people nearer 
 together. The eyes of the woman were fixed on 
 the sky, where white fleecy clouds vied with the 
 sunset colors in beauty. 
 
 Lionel was the first to speak: "Lala Sheddin 
 told me once that you used to watch the clouds, 
 believing that they were the dreams of people, 
 and that when they were granted by Allah they 
 changed to gold. Do you still do that?" 
 
 She nodded. Turning a slow, searching look 
 upon Lionel, she asked : 
 
 "And you, English lord, have you never 
 made any dreams?" 
 
 301
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 "Yes; I used to dream and hope that some 
 day I might be able to help you; and that hope 
 has now been granted." 
 
 Lionel was wholly in the mood of the woman 
 that he loved. They smiled at each other like 
 two children who had wandered into the never- 
 never land. 
 
 "And have you no more dreams now?" 
 
 She looked remote and ethereal, yet the 
 warmth of life was in her eyes, and they encour- 
 aged him to say : 
 
 "Yes. I dream now that some day you will 
 care enough for me to become my wife." 
 
 Before his gaze her eyes faltered, and he 
 with the capacity of a lover for tormenting him- 
 self waited, fearing that he had spoken too 
 soon. 
 
 Her face was averted. The sunset claimed 
 her attention, and there, above the mass of 
 color, a little white cloud floated. 
 
 She pointed to it. It was a fleecy, delicate 
 little cloud, which seemingly could not decide 
 whether to remain a cloud or to fade away and 
 become lost in the ether. The two of them 
 watched it with bated breath, as if their fate 
 
 302 
 
 H,
 
 THE GRASP OF THE SULTAN 
 
 depended on it. It grew fainter fleecier. But 
 then a bold shaft of yellow light shot up from 
 the sunset. Higher and higher it moved toward 
 the zenith of the sky. 
 
 Kizatesh turned toward her lover, her lips 
 parted, her slender figure swaying like a lily in a 
 breeze. 
 
 "See!" she cried, "your cloud is touched 
 with gold." 
 
 THE END -
 
 CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
 U . S . A

 
 A /"\ "''* I'"' I'll llll 
 
 J9 9528