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fault of the police force of Great Britain.
She laid her grubby little hand on mine. It was very soft and
cool.
You are cross with me. Why?
I removed her hand.
You mustn't do that again, said I. No; I am not in the least
cross with you. But I hope you are aware that this event is of
an unprecedented character.
What is an unprecedented character? she asked, stumbling over
the long words.
A thing that has never happened before and I devoutly hope will
not happen again.
Her face was turned to me. The lower lip trembled a little. The
doglook came into those wonderful eyes.
You will be kind to me? she said, in her childish
monosyllables, each word carefully articulated with a long pause
between.
I felt I had behaved like a heartless brute, ever since I thrust
her into the cab at Waterloo. I relented and laughed.
If you are a good girl and do as I tell you, said I.
Seer Marcous is my lord and I am his slave, was her astounding
reply.
Then I realised that she had been brought up by Hamdi Effendi.
There is something salutary, after all, in the training of the
harem.
I'm very glad to hear it, I said.
She closed her eyes. I saw now she was very tired. I thought
she had gone to sleep and I looked in front of me puzzling out
the problem. Presently the cabdoors were thrust violently open,
and if I had net held her back, she would have jumped out of the
vehicle.
Look! she cried, in great excitement. There! There's Harry's
name!
She pointed to a butcher's cart immediately in front of us,
bearing, in large letters, the name of E. Robinson.
We must stop, she went on. He will tell us about Harry.
It took me from Oxford Circus to Portman Square to convince her
that there were many thousands of Robinsons in London and that
the probability of the butcher's cart being a clue to Harry's
whereabouts was exceedingly remote.
At Baker Street station she asked, wearily: Is it still far to
your house?
No, said I, encouragingly. Not very far.
But one can drive for many days through streets in London, and
there will be still streets, still houses? So they tell me in
Alexandretta. London is as big as the moon, not so?
I felt absurdly pleased. She was capable of an idea. I had
begun to wonder whether she were not merely halfwitted. The
fact of her being able to read had already cheered me.
Many hours, yes, I corrected, not many days. London seems big

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