"Then be on hand to-morrow morning," ordered Monty.

But the Eye of Zeitoon had another surprise for us.

"I shall meet you on the road," he announced with an air of a social
equal. "Servants shall attend you at the Yeni Khan. They will say
nothing at all, and work splendidly! Start when you like; you will
find me waiting for you at a good place on the road. Bring not plenty,
but too much ammunition! Good day, then, gentlemen!"

He nodded to us--bowed to the consul--vaulted the rail. A second
later he grinned at us again through the tiny window. "I am the
Eye of Zeitoon!" he boasted, and was gone. A servant whom the consul
sent to follow him came back after ten or fifteen minutes saying
he had lost him in a maze of narrow streets.

His latter, offhanded manner scarcely auguring well, we debated whether
or not to search for some one more likely amenable to discipline
to take his place. But the consul spent an hour telling us about
the letter that went to Adrianople, and the bringing back of the
answer that hastened peace.

"He was shot badly. He nearly died on the way back. I've no idea
how he recovered. He wouldn't accept a piaster more than the price
agreed on."

"Let's take a chance!" said Will, and we were all agreed before he
urged it.