“As young people should be brought up, I hope—­the girls as modest, God-fearing maidens; the boys to behave like gentlemen, and to tell the truth.”

“A very admirable system of education, I’m sure.  By-and-bye we shall see how nearly you have achieved your aim.”

She was disappointed and bitterly angry, feeling that he had rebuffed and flouted her.

“We part as friends, I hope?” said Lord Lydstone, rising to go.

“Oh, certainly! why not?” she answered carelessly.

“I trust you will continue to get good news from Cousin Bill.”

“And I that you will have a speedy voyage home.  It would be provoking to be delayed when bound on such a mission.”

Then they parted, never to meet again.

CHAPTER XV.

THE LAST OF LORD LYDSTONE.

The mixed population of Constantinople in these busy, stirring times was ripe for any great surprise.  It was much moved and excited by a startling bit of news that spread very rapidly next day.

An atrocious murder had been committed on the Stamboul side, near the Bridge of Boats.

Certainly, murders were not unknown in this hive of complex life, harbouring as it did the very scum and refuse of European rascality.  But the victims were mostly vile, nameless vagabonds, low Greeks, Maltese suttlers, Italian sailors, or one or other of the hybrid mongrel ruffians following in the track of our armies, any of whom might be sent to their long account without being greatly missed.

It was otherwise now:  the murdered man was a prominent personage, an Englishman of high rank, a rich and powerful representative of a great people.  No wonder that Constantinople was agitated and disturbed.

On this occasion Lord Lydstone was the murdered man.

He had been found at daybreak by the Turkish patrol, lying in a doorway just where he had fallen dead, stabbed to the heart.

The body was taken to the nearest guard, and inquiries were instituted.  A card-case found on the body led to identification, and a report made to the British Embassy set in motion the law and justice of the peace.

Nothing satisfactory or conclusive was brought to light.  No one could account for his lordship’s presence in that, the lowest quarter of the city; the only clue to his movements was furnished by his steward and body-servant on board the yacht.

The valet came on shore and gave his evidence before the informal court, which was dealing with the case at the British Embassy, presided over by the attaches.

“When did you see his lordship last?”

“Last night.  My lord dined on board alone.  He appeared depressed, and altogether low.  He told me he should go to bed early.”

“And did he?”

“No.  Late in the evening a shore-boat came off—­one of those caiques, I think they called them—­with a letter, very urgent.”