“Are you people staying at Morris’s?”
“Yes,” said the professor.
“So are we. See you at dinner, perhaps.”
“Charley!” exclaimed the lady in tones that were quite Amazonic, they were so deep and stern.
Then a short conversation took place with the consul, and the strange couple left, leaving their host free to talk to the other visitors.
“I had very kind letters from Mr. Linton at the Foreign Office respecting you, gentlemen,” said the consul.
“I know Linton well,” said the professor.
“He is an old friend of mine too,” said the consul. “Well, I have done all I could for you.”
“About passports or what is necessary?” said the professor.
“I have a properly-signed firman for you,” said the consul smiling; “and the showing of that will be sufficient to ensure you good treatment, help, and protection from the officials in every town. They will provide you with zaptiehs or cavasses—a guard when necessary, and generally see that you are not molested or carried off by brigands, or such kind of folk.”
“But is it a fact, sir,” said Mr. Burne, “that you have real brigands in the country?”
“Certainly,” said the consul smiling.
“What! in connection with postal arrangements, and steam, and telegraphs?”
“My dear sir, we have all these things here; but a score or so of miles out in the country, and you will find the people, save that firearms are common, just about as they were a thousand years ago.”
“Bless my heart!” exclaimed Mr. Burne.
“It is a fact, sir; and I should advise great care, not only as to whom you trust among the people, but as to your health. The country is in a horrible state of neglect; the government does nothing.”
“But I do not see how that is to affect us,” said the professor, “especially as we have that firman.”
“It will not affect you in the more settled districts, but you may run risks in those which are more remote. I have been warning Mr. and Mrs. Chumley about the risks, but the lady laughed and said that she always carried a revolver.”
“Bless me!” exclaimed Mr. Burne, “a lady with a revolver! She would not dare to fire it.”
“I don’t know about that,” said the professor.
“Of course,” continued the consul, “I am at your service, Mr. Preston. If you are in need of aid, and are anywhere within reach of the telegraph wires, pray send to me and I will do my best. Can I do anything more for you?”
This was a plain hint to go, for it was evident that others were waiting for an interview with the representative of England; so a friendly farewell was taken and the little party returned to the hotel.
“I’m glad you decided to go a different way to those people, Preston,” said Mr. Burne.
“The decision was made on the instant, my dear sir; for I did mean to start from here.”
“Ah, you thought those people would be a nuisance?”
“Indeed I did.”
The professor had hardly spoken when Lawrence touched his arm; for the parties alluded to approached, and the lady checked her lord, who was going to speak, by saying:
“I thought I would give you a hint about going pretty well-armed. You will not have to use your weapons if you let the people see that you have them.”
“Arms, ma’am! Stuff! rubbish!” cried Mr. Burne. “The proper arms of an Englishman are the statutes at large, bound in law calf, with red labels on their back.”
“Statutes at large!” said the lady wonderingly.
“Yes, ma’am—the laws of his country, or the laws of the country where he is; and the proper arms of a lady, madam, are her eyes.”
“And her tongue,” said the professor to himself, but not in so low a voice that it was not heard by Lawrence, who gave him a sharp look full of amusement.
Mrs. Chumley smiled and bowed.
“Very pretty, sir!” she said; “but you forget that we are going to travel through a country where the laws are often a mere name, and people must take care of themselves.”
“Take care of themselves—certainly, ma’am, but not by breaking the laws. If a pack of vagabonds were to attack me I should hand them over to the police, or apply at the nearest police-court for a summons. That would be a just and equitable way of treating the matter.”
“Where would you get your police, Burne? and whom would you get to serve your summons if you could procure one?”
“Nearest town, sir—anywhere.”
The lady laughed heartily, and her little husband rubbed his hands and then patted her on the back.
“This lady is quite right, my dear Burne,” said the professor. “I see that we shall be obliged to go armed.”
“Armed, sir!—armed?”
“Yes. We shall for the greater part of our time be in places where the laws are of no avail, unless a body of troops are sent to enforce them.”
“But then your firman will have furnished us with a Turkish soldier for our protection.”
“But suppose the Turkish soldier prefers running away to fighting?” exclaimed the lady, “what then?”
“What then, ma’am?—what then?” cried the lawyer. “I flatter myself that I should be able to quell the people by letting them know that I was an English gentleman. Do you think that at my time of life I am going to turn butcher and carve folks with a sword, or drill holes through them with bullets?”
“Yes, sir, if it comes to a case of who is to be carved or drilled. There!—think it over. Come, Charley! let’s have our walk.”
Saying which the lady nodded and smiled to the two elders, and was going off in an assumed masculine way, when she caught sight of Lawrence lying back in an easy-chair, and her whole manner changed as she crossed to him and held out her hand with a sweet, tender, womanly look in her eyes.
“Good-bye for the present!” she said. “You must make haste and grow strong, so as to help me up the mountains if we meet somewhere farther in.”
Chapter Six.
Mr. Burne tries a Gun.
“Now
