Adventure, December 1914 — page 204: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

202 “TI will see his Majesty this evening, then,”’ said Masoya, as she rose to go. Her face was darkened by a burst of the tem- pestuous passion that I had seen disfigure it once before. “TI shall see to it that he knows fully how he is disgracing us by receiving this creature.” She swept from the room like a tragedy- queen, the enormous dog padding silently at her heels. I had looked to see old Kurt- sky say something to temper her wrath, but he made no move to check her. Indeed, after a brief space he remarked absent- mindedly: ‘“‘Never presume to give that girl advice, Dan. She plays the game by instinct, with a far more certain touch than. all my years of experience have given me.”’ I said good night and left him preparing cipher dispatches to the delegates at the peace conference in London. It was not yet the dinner-hour, and I felt both restless and eager to see for myself this strange en- thusiasm which stirred the phlegmatic Bul- gars. So I chose a heavy stick from the stand in the hall, pulled my hat down over my head and set out for a walk. Sofia lies in the midst of a high plateau, ringed around by mountain peaks, and the early Spring day was already beginning to draw to aclose. A quarter of an hour after I had started, twilight had fallen. Contrary to the usual custom of the city, the crowds did not seem to dissipate with the approach of evening. They clustered in front of cafés and about street-corners, and every now and then an irregular col- umn, carrying banners and transparencies, would pass, singing lustily and cheering for the heroes of the hour. It was noteworthy that whenever a band of demonstrators passed the Austrian Ministry, they hissed and groaned in a manner which left no doubt of the feeling the populace enter- tained for their ruler’s friends. Strolling through the turmoil, I found it no easy task to pick out the agents of the confidential minister. Sometimes I struck meetings which were builded into popular- ity by a few moments of judicious harangu- ing and what looked to be the auxiliary ef- forts of a regular claque. But for the most part the demonstrations were genuine. In my interest I lost all account of time and direction. Presently I found myself leaving the newer part of the city and walk- ing through the Public Gardens. But even Adventure here there was something to interest me. A number of men and women had gathered about the place where Stambuloff, the cre- ator of the new Bulgaria, was shot, to con- duct some simple exercises in his memory. After a while I passed on, absorbed in my thoughts, and I was quite surprised suddenly to discover that I was in the heart of the old Turkish quarter—a dingy region of narrow, twisting alleys, blind lanes and noisome courtyards, fronted by medieval, humpbacked, windowless structures, each one outwardly a prison-house or worse. It was in the same breath that I realized I was being followed. In fact, it was prob- ably the automatic perception of those stealthy footsteps far behind me that roused me from my absorption. At first I was uncertain of the best course to pursue. I was ignorant of this part of town. A glance around me in the unlighted gloom failed to identify my surroundings. I saw no one afoot in the street ahead of me. Behind me there were only those ghostly footfalls, like echoes of my own. To test my suspicions I quickened my pace. The footsteps behind me quickened sim- ultaneously. Emerging into a somewhat wider section of the alley I glanced back over my shoulder, and caught a glimpse of several vaguely defined figures dodging along under the house-walls. There was but one recourse for me— flight. The puzzle was to pick the shortest way back to the lighted streets of the new town. But a moment’s study convinced me that it was hopeless to try and map out a route. I was completely lost. Moreover, the footsteps were coming nearer. I must run for it while I still had a fair head start. Just at this instant I came to a crack in the wall of buildings to my right. I had not the slightest idea where it led, but I. darted into it and began to run as fast as I could. Before I had turned the first corner I could hear the footsteps behind me com- ing on pell-mell—and I knew from the sound that there were more than two men after me. The lane I had picked out twisted capri- ciously here and there, wound back on itself, then doubled again—always without meet- ing any intersecting lanes—and suddenly debouched on to a little square with an old fountain in the center and a massive build- ing on the opposite side, which I recognized as the Little Mosque. In the rear of the comicloool C@