“You need a lesson in manners,” said Monty.

“What do you mean?” demanded Hans von Quedlinburg.

Monty rose to his feet without a single unnecessary motion.

“I mean that unless you call off your men—­at once this minute from interfering with our animals I shall give you the lesson you need.”

The German saluted in mock respect.  Then he patted his breast-pocket so as to show the outline of a large repeating pistol.  Monty took two steps forward.  The German drew the pistol with an oath.  Will Yerkes, beyond Fred and slightly behind the German, coughed meaningly.  The German turned his head, to find that he was covered by a pistol as large as his own.

“Oh, very well,” he said, “what is the use of making a scene?” He thrust his pistol back under cover and shouted an order in Turkish.  Monty returned to his place and sat down.  The newcomers at the rear of the room tied their horses together by the bridles, and Hans von Quedlinburg resumed his well-fed smile.

“Let it be clearly understood,” he said, “that you have interfered with official privilege.”

“As long as you do your best in the way of manners you may go on with your errand,” said Monty.

Suddenly Fred laughed aloud.

“The martyred biped!” he yelped.

He was right.  Peter Measel, missionary on his own account, and sometime keeper of most libelous accounts, stepped out from the shadows and essayed to warm himself, walking past the German with a sort of mincing gait not calculated to assert his manliness.  Hans von Quedlinburg stretched out a strong arm and hurled him back again into the darkness at the rear.

“Tchuk-tchuk!  Zuruck!” he muttered.

It clearly disconcerted him to have his inferiors in rank assert themselves.  That accounted, no doubt, for the meek self-effacement of the Turks who had come with him.  Peter Measel did not appear to mind being rebuked.  He crossed to the other side of the room, and proceeded to look the gipsies over with the air of a learned ethnologist.

“You speak of my errand,” said Hans von Quedlinburg, “as if you imagine I come seeking favors.  I am here incidentally to rescue you and your party from the clutches of an outlaw.  The Turkish officials who are with me have authority to arrest everybody in this place, yourselves included.  Fortunately I am able to modify that.  Kagig —­that rascal beside you—­is a well-known agitator.  He is a criminal.  His arrest and trial have been ordered on the charge, among other things, of stirring up discontent among the Armenian laborers on the railway work.  These gipsies are all his agents.  They are all under arrest.  You yourselves will be escorted to safety at the coast.”

“Why should we need an escort to safety?” Monty demanded.

“Were you on the roof?” the German answered.  “And is it possible you did not see the conflagration?  An Armenian insurrection has been nipped in the bud.  Several villages are burning.  The other inhabitants are very much incensed, and all foreigners are in danger —­yourselves especially, since you have seen fit to travel in company with such a person as Kagig.”