"A Greek steamer took us and our baggage to Trebizond."
"And what then?"
"And then, a year later, the terrible massacre at our Trebizond
mission occurred----"
That was what the child was waiting for.
"I know!" she interrupted eagerly. "The wicked Turks and the cruel
Kurds did come galloping and shouting 'Allah!' And all the poor,
converted people became martyrs. And God loves martyrs, doesn't He?"
"Yes, dear----"
"And then they did kill all the poor little Christian children!"
exclaimed the child excitedly. "And they did cut you with swords and
guns! And then the kind sailors with the American flag took you and
mamma and me to a ship and saved us by the grace of our Lord Jesus!"
"Yes, dear----"
"Tell me!"
"That is all----"
"No; you walk on two crutches, and you cannot be a missionary any
more because you are sick all the time! Tell me, daddy!"
"Yes. And that is all, Rue----"
"Oh, no! Please! Tell me!... And then, don't you remember how the
brave British sailors and our brave American sailors pointed their
cannon at the I-ronclads, and they said, 'Do not shoot or we shall
shoot you to pieces.' And then the brave American sailors went on
shore and brought back some poor little wounded converted children,
and your baggage and the magic box of Herr Wilner!"
"Yes, dear. And now that is enough tonight----"
"Oh, daddy, you must first read in the di-a-ry which Herr Wilner
made!"
"Bring me the book, Rue."
With an interest forever new, the Carew family prepared to listen to
the words written by a strange man who had died only a few moments
after he had made the last entry in the book--before even the ink was
entirely dry on the pages.
The child, sitting cross-legged on the floor, clasped her little hands
tightly; her mother laid aside her sewing, folded it, and placed it in
her lap; her father searched through the pencilled translation which
he had written in between the lines of German script, found where he
had left off the time before, then continued the diary of Herr Conrad
Wilner, deceased: March 3. My original plans have been sent to the Yildiz Palace.
My duplicates are to go to Berlin when a messenger from our
Embassy arrives. Murad Bey knows this. I am sorry he knows it. But
nobody except myself is aware that I have a third set of plans
carefully hidden.