RIGOUR
It was now the beginning of September. Frank had received no letters
from Europe for two or three weeks, nor the parcel of London newspapers
which he was accustomed to get by the weekly mail. He suspected that
this had been confiscated by the officials. All the news he heard was
that given out by the authorities, together with that which was brought
him by Joseph, who was in a position to learn more than was common
property. His father, Isaac Kopri, the contractor, included in his
business organization a private intelligence department. He got
important news as a rule long before the general public, and often
before the officials themselves. The value of his information of course
depended on its source, and his agents could only pass on what was
officially given out in the towns where they were stationed, and the
unofficial rumours that passed from mouth to mouth. Thus it happened
that, even five weeks after the outbreak of war, Frank knew next to
nothing of the actual course of events, and, if he had believed what was
reported, would have been wretched because Paris and Warsaw were in the
hands of the Germans, the British navy was annihilated, all the British
colonies in revolt, and London at the mercy of the enemy.
One day, happily, Joseph brought in, hidden in the folds of his
garments, a number of London newspapers which had come into the hands of
his father. From these Frank learnt that though Belgium was occupied by
the Germans, their offensive had been checked in all quarters, and their
hope of an easy and a speedy triumph was shattered. What most deeply
interested him, however, was the news that Lord Kitchener was creating
an immense new army, the ranks of which were being rapidly filled by
volunteers from every class and section of the people. This did but
increase his eagerness to get away from Erzerum. He longed for the day
to come when he might hurry back to England and enlist in what promised
to be the first national army that Britain had put into the field since
the far-gone days when every citizen was a soldier as a matter of
course.
Day by day it grew clearer from Joseph's reports that Germany would drag
Turkey into the war. Wonckhaus was constantly at the Governor's house;
the Governor's aides-de-camp were frequent visitors to Wonckhaus. The
9th Army Corps was being brought up to full strength, and German
officers were drilling the recruits. It was even announced that the
Governor himself would shortly be replaced by a German officer of high
rank. One morning Joseph announced that Wonckhaus had appeared in the
uniform of a major in the Turkish army; it had become known that in his
own country he had been a captain of Landwehr. The ostensible merchant
had been all along, it was clear, an agent of the German Government.
Weeks passed, irksomely, drearily. No letter came from Mr. Forester.
Frank was never allowed to leave his house. Night and day a sentry
stood on guard. Frank could take exercise only in his yard and on his
roof. He did his best to keep himself in condition by means of
gymnastic practice, but he was becoming low-spirited and sick of his
life. Ideas of attempting escape often came to him, but were always
checked by the thought of his stock, worth several thousands of pounds,
which he felt he could not leave to be confiscated. To sell it was
impossible. In the present situation no one would buy it; if any one
were so rash as to purchase, he would probably be making a present of
his money and the goods to the Turkish officials.
Frank's fears in this regard were confirmed by the news brought him one
day by Joseph. The _Goeben_ and the _Breslau_ had been attacking Russian
vessels in the Black Sea. War was certain. A matter that affected Frank
more closely was a conversation which Kopri had partially overheard
between the new German Governor and Wonckhaus. Frank's name had been
mentioned, in what connection Kopri, being ignorant of German, did not
know. But he suggested that the authorities were only awaiting a formal
declaration of war to seize the Foresters' stock, among other English
property. Wonckhaus was well aware of its value, and apart from its
usefulness in assisting the Turkish finances, Wonckhaus had a personal
grudge to pay off.
This news set Frank in a ferment. Every other consideration was now
subordinated in his mind to the question of saving his stock. He was at
his wits' end. He consulted with Joseph, but Joseph seemed unable to
suggest any likely means. It was only at the end of a long conversation
that the Armenian sprang a surprise upon him.
In Erzerum, owing to the constantly recurring troubles, the Armenians
have various hiding-places in which they secrete their valuables and
occasionally themselves. The whereabouts of these spots is jealously
guarded, and it was only when Frank had given up his problem in despair
that Joseph divulged a secret locked up in his breast.
"Why on earth didn't you tell me this before?" demanded Frank with some
indignation.
Joseph begged for forgiveness on the plea that the secret belonged to
his community, and he had his father's permission to reveal it only in
the last resort.
"Well, send the servants out of the house on some errand or other, and
then show me the place."
The house was an old one, which had played a part in the troubled
history of the city. When the servants had been disposed of, Joseph
took Frank to one of the lower rooms. The back wall was apparently
built against the solid hillside; but a sliding panel, cunningly
disguised, gave access to a narrow passage which bent abruptly to the
left. Groping his way through this for some distance at Joseph's heels,
Frank found himself in a small chamber about eight feet square. He
sniffed.
"What is this smell of smoke?" he asked.
"There is a narrow pipe running into the chimney next door," Joseph
replied.
"Does Wonckhaus know of it?" asked Frank instantly.
"It is not at all likely. Karamin, who owns this house, probably does
not know of it. If he does, he would not tell Wonckhaus. I should not
have told you but----"
"Yes, yes; I understand. But this is capital. We can bring here the
most valuable part of our stock; it won't do to bring it all, for
Wonckhaus would suspect a hiding-place if he found all our things gone.
Come, let us do it at once."
Together they worked for an hour or two in transporting the most
valuable rugs, including Mirza Aga's, to the secret chamber. When this
was done, and the panel replaced, Frank felt exultingly confident that
the inevitable search would completely baffle the enemy.
He had not long to wait for confirmation of his faith. October dragged
away; on November 2 the streets were filled with excited people,
cheering the news that the British and Russian ambassadors had left
Constantinople. In anticipation of the outbreak of hostilities troops
had been for some days marching eastward and north-eastward towards the
Russian frontier and the Caucasus, deluded by their German officers into
the belief that Russia had withdrawn the greater part of her forces from
Transcaucasia to withstand the German onslaught on Poland, and that they
would have an easy task in recovering the ground lost in the war of
1878.
On the same day, a Turkish officer with a file of men came to Frank's
house. Leaving the men at the door, he entered.
"I regret, effendim," he said to Frank politely, "that I have orders to
arrest you and convey you to the citadel."
"For what reason, and on what charge?" asked Frank.
"Your country and mine are now at war, effendim. As an alien of
military age, you cannot remain at large. Besides, there is that matter
of blocking the road. The higher authorities at Stamboul have not yet
given their decision; but in the meantime the Governor deems it
necessary to imprison you. I assure you of my personal regret, and on
the Governor's part that your treatment shall be as mild as possible."
Frank did not then know what mildness meant, as interpreted by German
military officers. The Turkish lieutenant's politeness and apologetic
manner prevented him from feeling any personal resentment at the moment.
While he was gathering a few things together, Wonckhaus came in. The
German was so impatient to secure his booty, and possibly to enjoy the
spectacle of his victim's humiliation, that he had not waited for
Frank's departure. Accompanied by one of his clerks, he hastened to the
storeroom, and taking from his pocket a list of the stock, obtained
Frank knew not how, began to call over the items.
"You take an inventory for the purpose of safeguarding my property and
returning it at the end of the war, I presume," said Frank to the Turk.
"That I know nothing about," was the answer. "The Governor will no
doubt do everything in order. Are you ready, effendim?"
"In a minute or two, if you don't mind waiting until Major Wonckhaus has
completed his task."
Wonckhaus's voice could be heard from the storeroom.
"The rug of Shiraz, 16 by 12. Where is that? Not here? And the
Khorassan rug of Mirza Aga. Not here? But it must be here. It has not
been sold. It has not been removed. Pull down that big Ispahan carpet;
it may be under that."
A few minutes passed. Wonckhaus was growing furious. He uttered a
resounding German curse.
"Come, we must search the house," he cried.
He returned to the room where Frank stood, glared at him savagely,
glanced around, and assuring himself that the rugs on the floor were of
no great value, proceeded to a systematic search of the premises. He
ransacked every room, and went so far as to strip the roof of its turf.
But nowhere could he find the Khorassan rug of Mirza Aga, or several
other rugs representing some tens of thousands of German marks.
Frank, in spite of his situation, was amused. Wonckhaus, he thought,
could hardly show his hand so completely as to demand information about
property which was in no way his concern, and his rage and air of
bafflement when he returned to the lower room was certainly comical to
witness. Frank's amusement would have been less if he could have
foreseen what the discrepancy between the actual stock and the list was
to cost him.
Plunder was Wonckhaus's object, and, to Frank's surprise--he did not yet
know German shamelessness---Wonckhaus now made no secret of it. He went
to the office desk, wrenched it open--"He might at least have asked for
the key," thought Frank--and examined the stock book. He wheeled round.
"The stock is short," he cried. "What have you done with the goods?"
Frank looked at him with a smile, but said nothing.
"Do you hear?" shouted Wonckhaus, the charm of manner which had won him
a certain popularity among the Europeans dropping from him like a
loosened garment. "What have you done with the goods?"
Frank turned to the Turkish officer.
"Major Wonckhaus is curious about my business," he said. "I have no
information to give."
Wonckhaus blustered. He roared at Joseph, who had been standing silent
in the background.
"You fellow, where are the rugs? What have you done with them?"
"I am my master's servant," said Joseph quietly.
"And your father's son!" cried the German. "You will tell me instantly
what I want to know, or you will find yourself laid by the heels, and
the army will have another contractor."
Wonckhaus had lost his temper, or he would have reflected that a change
of contractors at this critical moment was out of the question. Joseph
was shrewd enough to perceive the emptiness of his threat, and merely
replied that he could say nothing without his master's orders.
At this moment, while Wonckhaus was glaring with baffled rage at Frank
and his faithful clerk, a non-commissioned officer came in.
"A message from the Governor, effendim," he said to the lieutenant.
"The Englishman is to be kept a prisoner in the upper storey of this
house, the lower storey will be occupied by his guards."
To Frank this was very agreeable news. He had felt unhappy at the
prospect of being shut up in the common prison, or even in the soldiers'
prison at the citadel: Turkish jails are unsavoury places. In his own
house he would at least be able to keep clean. Moreover, he would then
be able, in a sense, to watch over his carpets. The hiding-place could
hardly be discovered without his hearing of it, and there would be a
certain satisfaction in knowing that his property was still safe, or, if
it were found, in learning definitely what had become of it. He
afterwards discovered that the change of plan was due to the British
consul, who had learnt of the order for his arrest when he applied for a
passport for him, and had obtained this indulgence from the Governor.
Frank noticed that Wonckhaus also appeared to get some satisfaction from
the change. The German made no further attempt to obtain the
information he desired, and left the house. Frank was taken upstairs
and locked in his own bedroom. Joseph, however, was marched off by a
couple of the soldiers, and it was some few days before Frank learnt
what had become of him.