"You've no call to wonder about that," said Will.

"Suppose you tell us what you've got in mind," suggested Monty, putting
his long legs on a chair and producing a cigarette.

The consul knocked out his pipe and sat forward, beginning to talk
a little faster, as a man who throws discretion to the winds.

"I've no legal right to interfere. None at all. In case of a massacre
of Armenians--men, women, little children--I could do nothing. Make
a fuss, of course. Throw open the consulate to refugees. Threaten
a lot of things that I know perfectly well my government won't do.
The Turks will be polite to my face and laugh behind my back, knowing
I'm helpless. But if you four men--"

"Yes--go on--what?"

"Spill it!" urged Will.

"--should be up-country, and I knew it for a fact, but did not know
your precise whereabouts, I'd have a grown excuse for raising most
particular old Harry! You get my meaning?"

"Sure!" said Will. "Monty's an earl. Fred's related to half the
peerages in Burke. Me and him"--I was balancing my chair on one
leg and he pushed me over backward by way of identification--"just
pose as distinguished members of society for the occasion. I get you."

"It might even be possible, Mr. Yerkes, to get the United States
Congress to take action on your account."