10
HE SUNDAY FICTION MAGAZINE, SEPTEMBER 10, 1916
Weren't you reading a book about It the
other night? What was It?"
"Oh, something about harems "
'Harems! Of course! And what do
they have In harems?"
"Why why slaves, houris, the sul
tan's favorites!"
"Sure! And what do these houris do
whenever they get a chance? Escape!
Ana where do they make ror r rne lana
of the free and the home of the brave!
They've traced her. She escaped by dead
of night "
"With the assistance of a faithful
eunuch!" I added, now beginning to
awake to the possibilities of the situation.
"A faithful eunuch, named--named "
"Never mind the faithful eunuch's
name," interrupted Queever. "lle'seen
killed by the sultan's guards long since.
What was the name of the beautiful
houri? I know Nada!"
"Uh-huh," I added; "Nada El-Khouri,
which means 'the little lotus bloom, and
she has teeth like pearls, and "
"Big blue eyes and golden hair," cried
Queever, thinking of Bessie Lnderhlll.
"No, no!" I expostulated. "Houris
don't! Haven tresses and eyes like ebon
pools."
"Have it your own way," said Quee
ver, "as lone as she escaped and the
sultan, tearing his turban in rage, sum
moned his two faithful spies and told
them to bring her back or be chopped
up and thrown Into the Phosphorous."
"Bosporus," I corrected; "and their
names are
"Let's ask 'em," said Queever, start
ing forward. Now I detained him.
"No," I said; "I know better names
than they could ever think of. The
young lad is Yussuf Ben All, and the
ancient party Is "
"The ancient party is none other,"
said Queever, "than our old college chum
Hagob Bagoorian Boy, which sounds
like first-chop Turk.
. "And now, having settled that, let us
hie to you oasis if we can dig up the
price and while quaffing from a goat's
Bkin the desert's sweetest vintage, work
out the details of the little talo that's
going to save our two young lives. Ah,
but hold!"
And, seizing my arm, ho swung me
around so that we approached the two
Turks, who, rested now, were about to
resume their Journey.
"Hagob, esquire.-' said Queever, plant
ing himself in front of the graybeard.
''also Yussuf, we greet thee and would
have speech with thee!"
The two Turks looked at each other
question i ugly, and the old one mumbled
something, with a shake of his white
beard.
"Nay, Hagob," said Queever, "answer
me not till thou hast heard all. We wish
to ask you if you deny that you are se
cret emissaries of the sultan take off
your hat, you," he whispered tn paren
thesis to me, "when I say 'sultan' sent
to America to find and bring back to
liim the fairest flower of his harem! As
man to man, do you deny it?"
The two Turks looked from Queever to
each other, and then the older, mum
bling something unintelligible, slowly
shook his head, implying absolute' ab
rence of comprehension.
Queever seized my arm and dragged
me away.
"There," he said, as we entered the
Place of the Swinging Doors, "thank
goodness I thought of that!"
"But what was the idea?" I asked.
"Can't you see? If anybody asks us
any embarrassing questions we can truth
fully say that we- interviewed Yussuf and
Hagob about the story and they admit
ted it."
"But they didn't!'" ,1 said.
"Weil." said Queever, "they didn't
deny it, did they?"
m.
AT FREQUENT Intervals along the
bar walls of the Chronicle's city
room were cardboard signs reading:
Tacts! Facts! r Facta! rr As 1 wrote
'my story that evening I glanced up oc
casionally and read these signs, and fol
lowed their injunction. I crowded my
copy so full of facts that it would have
spilled any more.
1 went to the office library and con
sulted the "Turkish Baedeker," quoting
from It at length with the sultan's full
name and a list of his wives. I gave the
exact moment of our Interview with
Yussuf and Hagob and described them to
the last hair In their beards. As for
Nada El-Khouri I can only say that as
I read over my rhapsodic pen picture of
her I did not blame the sultan
I turned my copy in to McGowan, the
night city editor, and hung around to
got his verdict. Finally he called me
over, and exhibiting what I considered
an air of unjust suspicion (for by this
time I fully believed every word I had
written), began questioning me.
I assured him he was wrong the two
Turks actually existed and had been In
terviewed, and I could and would find
them again though I wasn't so sure of
that. x
"But where are they now?" asked Mc
Gowan. "I may want to put some one
on a follow-up of this, and "
"Oh, don't!" I pleaded. "I mean don't
put any other man on it, -Mac. It's my
story nobody has It but Queever of the
Inquirer and myself, and if you.print the
Turks' address everybody will get to 'em
and queer It."
"Oh, all right," ho said, "go to It.
Eut If it's a fake "
I left the office and hurried across the
etreot to meet Queever, who was Just
coming out of the Inquirer building, radi
ant with happiness.
"Underhill was down himself," he
chuckled, "and ate It up, only he seemed
a little doubtful till I told him the Chron
icle had it, too. He made me give him
the Turks' address, though. Oh, not to
print," he added as I gasped. "Anyway,
it wouldn't be fatal the place I. gave
him was the B. and H. Railroad station!"
rv.
MONDAY noon Queever and I sat en
joying a good breakfast at Mrs.
Henderson's "beanery"; for, after (on
my part) pacifying my londlady, and (on
Queever's) taking Bessie Underhill down
to the beach for that clambake, there
Mill remained something in the ex
chequer. Better, there was more coming,
tor Nada El-Khouri and the sultan's
emi.-saries were panning out bettor tlian
e had anticipated.
The evening papers had all "lifted
our stories, adding much Interesting,
though rot exactly true, detail. The
police had been brought into the case,
and bad promised, if any Turks answer
ing the description of Yussuf Ben All
and Hagob Bagoorian Boy should come
around and try to find1 out from them if
they - know of the whereabouts of a
beauteous damsel named Nada El
Khouri, to "fan "era" effectively.
And, with the clippings from the oth
er papers handed over to us by our city
editors, we had been told to "get a move
on" and find our Turks, and ask what
they Intended doing about it.
I had been most careful in writing my
story for Monday's paper to keep out of
deep water, but Queever the overen
thustastic hid gone, I thought, a little
far, in that he had suggested that Yus
suf and Hagob were not in our city on
any blind trail, but with the knowledge
that Nada was pretty surely In hiding
somewhere within its limits.
I called his attention to this.
"Sure," he said. "That's what we've
got to work up. We've got to keep the
cops stirred up over the possibility of
her being here. Already I've seen Ser
geant Flynn, down at station 7, and given
him a sly tip that she may be concealed
In a house on Currier street lots of those
Orientals hang out down In that precinct,
yon know."
"Wow!" I said. "Suppose the cops go
there 7"
"Fine!" said1 Queerer. "I hope they
wlIL Eh, what's that 7"
Our waitress had stepped to the door
and bought a newspaper the Evening
Press which she was reading. Queever
was trying to catch the headline, and
beckoned to the girl to show him the pa
per. She handed it to him, saying:
"I see the cops have caught them two
Turks that's over here chasin' that Tur
key princess, or whatever she is!"
"No!" we gasped. But there it was,
and we read it with bated breath.
"Officer Manning this morning arrest
ed, in precinct 14, two Turks believed to
be the mysterious Yussuf Ben All and
Hagob Bagoorian Bey, who are in this
city In pursuit, according to their own
admissions, of Nada El-Khouri, the
famous Oriental beauty, and the favorite
of the Sultan of Turkey.
The men claim to be honest rug ped
dlers, and positively deny that they are
the persons sought for by the police, but
will be held until they can be Identified
by agents of the Turkish consulate."
"Great stuff!" said Queever. "I only
hope the cops all over town will start
rounding Yussuf and Hagob up on every
corner. Of course it's us for station 14,
quick, to tell the sergeant that these fel
lows aren't the sultan's spies."
We had Bome little difficulty In con
vincing the police that they had the
wrong men, and when they were con
vinced (for wo proved that we were the
original reporters to have interviewed
Yussuf and Hagob) they kicked the be
wildered rug peddlers out of the station
house and showed much anger at having
been fooled.
"But we'll get 'em yet," said the ser
geant. "That settles it," said Queever, as we
came out. "I've got to tell Underhill
now that Yussuf and Hagob have moved
from the address I gave him."
"Why so?" I asked.
"He'll be having somebody run 'em.
down and find It's the railroad depot.
They'd bo apt to disappear, anyhow,
though, with the whole police force after
'em."
"But we won't be able to interview
""em any more," I said.
"No," said Queever; "but that
wouldn't be safe any longer, anyway.
The next thing is to dig up Nada. What
say if we locate her in time for tomor
row's papers?"
"We-ell," I said, "I'm willing; but
how where? Of course I'd know her if
I ran across her, but "
"Wo might have her write a letter to
our papers," said Queever, "saying that,
as we wore the first to warn her that
the sultan's spies were on her track,
she'd liko to see a reporter or two. Could
you write a nice female hand?"
"Not I," I said. "But say!" And I
looked at him.
He divined my meaning. "Not in a
million years!" said he, "That's one
thing about Besslo. She wouldn't give
me away, of course, to her father, but if
there's one thing she hates and despises
it's decilt of any sort. And if she knew
her fair-haired boy was I should
sa-ay not!"
"Anyway," I said, "among all the
sultan's favorites I've ever known I
don't remember one who could write
especially In English. Besides, there'd
have to be an. address."
"Just the same," said Queever, "Nada
El-Khouri must be found, and we're go
ing to find her. So get busy and figure
out how and where."
"I've got it," I said after a minute.
"As you say, Currier Street is the head
quarters for all the Armenians and
Turks and Syrians in town. I just seem
to remember, dimly you know how those
things come back to you that while you
were chinning with Hagob the other day
Yussuf held a slip of paper in one hand
not the one he held the big black bag
In and I caught a glimpse of it. If my
memory serves me right "
"It's serving you fine so far," Inter
rupted Queerer, "only don't make ft
number twenty-one, because that's the
number I tipped the cops off to search."
-It wasn't," I said, "I think it was
nmnber forty-fowr.' Do you suppose by
tDy possibility that that was the house
where they thought Nada El-Khouri
might be concealed?"
"It strikes me as very, very reason
able," said Queever, "and if you'll wait
till I go back to the office and report that
that arrest of Yussuf and Hagob up in
Precinct 14 was a rank fake, probably
conceived by one of our rivals hi Jealous
desperation, we'll go down there and
see."
V.
HALF an hour later found ua enter
ing the odoriferous and congested
locality known as Currier street, far
down in the north end. Foreigners of
many eastern nations watched through
suspicious black eyes our progress as we
sought for number forty-four. If there
had been no such number it would have
made no difference, for we bad decided
that we should locate Nada, the little
lotus bloom, in the most crowded tene
ment in the street.
"It's a funny place for lotus blooms,"
said Queever, holding his nose against a
hot wave of greasy mutton cooking
which burst upon us from a doorway la
which sat an ancient Turk darning a
small rug.
"Yes," I said, noting the throngs- of
people gathered about the door on the
narrow, dark stairway and leaning from
the windows, "but it's pretty safe. It
would be hard to prove that there
weren't lotus blooms or anything elso In
that hivo. Come on In!"
"In?" gasped Queever, who had a
sensitive nose. "Why? There's the house.
What more do we want?"
"We've got to stick to facts," I said,
"as we have all along. We must investi
gate local color, you know! Out of the
way, Methusalem!" and I indicated to
the old Turk in the doorway that we
wished to enter.
As he moved painfully aside I passed
Into the doorway, followed by the un
willing Queever.
I imagine that the news of the es
caped Nada and her pursuit by the sul
tan's emissaries had reached Currier
street long before this.. Probably we
were not the first reporters to visit the
Place in a vain search for "tips," since
the other papers had swallowed our
story as being at least fundamentally
true.
At all events, as wo mounted the
stairs leading we knew not whither
doors were flung open, angry. Inquiring
faces were thrust out at us from dark
burrows, muttered cries expressed cut
rage at such intrusion. Then the doors
would be slammed, for others ahead of
us to open.
"We're welcome, anyhow," said
Queever. "Where are you going?"
I did not know myself, but at that
moment a door directly ahead of us at
the end of the third landing opened and
a woman's face peered out It was a
suspicious, but not unattractive face of
Its sort the square Jaws and long, deeply
set eyes, Jhe large, full-lipped mouth and
aquiline nose, slightly widened at the
nostrils, of a Turkish woman of the
lower castes such as you meet In large"
cities selling laces on the streets.
She did not seem afraid of us, or
angry at us, this woman; but stood, her
figure concealed, her face peering out
boldly, inquiringly.
"Hello," I said, trying to smile, "we're
reporters. You know a girl - named
Nada? You know Turkish girl lady?"
I don't know just what sort of reply
I expected surely not what I received.
The woman she was scarcely more than
a girl stepped out Into the hallway, dis
closing a short, somewhat dumpy figure
clad in a loose wrapper, her feet peering
from beneath in frowzy carpet slippers.
A smile flTnmmed her dusky face,
showing a mouth filled with white teeth;
her black eyes lighted up, I thought
with understanding, and she cried:
"Nada 7 I? Yes, I Turkish lady!
Dane!"
I gasped and tipped over backward
against Queerer, -who was close behind