That was art—­plain art.  No human woman could have finished it.  It was innate abhorrence of the anticlimax that sent her, having looked into the eyes of the unattainable, to lie sobbing for short breath in her corner in the dark, leaving us to imagine the ending if we could.

And instead of anticlimax second climax came.  Almost before the echoes of the drum-taps died among the dancing shadows overhead a voice cried from the roof in Armenian, and Kagig rose to his feet.

“Let us climb to the roof and see, effendim,” he said, pulling on his tattered goat-skin coat.

“See what, Ermenie?” demanded Rustum Khan.  The Rajput’s eyes were still ablaze with pagan flame, from watching Maga.

“To see whether thou hast manhood behind that swagger!” answered Kagig, and led the way.  No man ever yet explained the racial aversions.

“Kopek!—­dog, thou!” growled the Rajput, but Kagig took no notice and led on, followed by Monty and the rest of us.  Maga and the gipsies came last, swarming behind us up the ladder through a hole among the beams, and clambering on to the roof over boxes piled in the draughty attic.  Up under the stars a man was standing with an arm stretched out toward Tarsus.

“Look!” he said simply.

To the westward was a crimson glow that mushroomed angrily against the sky, throbbing and swelling with hot life like the vomit of a crater.  We watched in silence for three minutes, until one of the gipsy women began to moan.

“What do you suppose it is?” I asked then.

“I know what it is,” said Kagig simply.

“Tell then.”

“’Effendi, that is the heart of Armenia burning.  Those are the homes of my nation—­of my kin!”

“And good God, where d’you suppose Miss Vanderman is?” Fred exclaimed.

Will was standing beside Maga, looking into her eyes as if he hoped to read in them the riddle of Armenia.

Chapter Six “Passing the buck to Allah!”

LAUS LACHRIMABILIS

So now the awaited ripe reward —
Your cactus crown!  Since I have urged
“Get ready for the untoward”
Ye bid me reap the wrath I dirged;
And I must show the darkened way,
Who beckoned vainly in the light! 
I’ll lead.  But salt of Dead Sea spray
Were sweeter on my lips to-night!

Oh, days of aching sinews, when I trod the choking dust
With feet afire that could not tire, atremble with the trust
More mighty in my inner man than fear of men without,
The word I heard on Kara Dagh and did not dare to doubt —
Timely warning, clear to me as starlight after rain
When, sleepless on eternal hills, I saw the purpose plain
And left, swift-foot at dawn, obedient, to break
The news ye said was no avail—­advice ye would not take!