CHAPTER VII

TEMPTATION

Frank felt that while things might have been worse, they were quite bad enough. The ostensible reason of his imprisonment being that he was of military age, he foresaw the possibility of his remaining a prisoner until the end of the war--perhaps a year, for while he had a great respect for Germany's military power, he did not think it likely that she could withstand the forces of the Triple Entente for more than twelve months.

At first he had no great hardship to endure. His own servants had been dismissed, but he had been given as personal attendant an old Arab named Hussein who combined the natural courtesy of his race with another Eastern characteristic--a keen appetite for bakshish. Frank had been allowed to keep his ready money, and was thus able to purchase many comforts to supplement the prisoner's fare supplied him. Hussein, of course, made a handsome profit out of every transaction in which he was thus employed, and Frank soon saw the necessity of self-restraint, for money would not last for ever, and there was no chance of obtaining more.

Hussein was talkative and intelligent, always polite, and, Frank suspected, sly. It was from him that Frank learnt, after a few days, that Joseph had been released from the common jail and had left the town. The Turks were straining every nerve to collect supplies for their campaign in the Caucasus, and Joseph's father the contractor was too useful a man to be alienated. It was not long before Frank had proof of Hussein's slyness.

"The days are getting colder, effendim," he said one day. "There was snow in the night."

"Very uncomfortable for the army," said Frank.

"True. Our winter is very long, very bitter. It is not so in your country, effendim?"

"Not so bitter, perhaps, but quite as long as we like it."

"Wallahy! This country is not a healthy place for Englishmen in the winter. Hundreds of them have left Turkey, so it is told me. Of a truth Turkey is not a healthy place for them now! A pity you are not gone too, effendim."

"Well, I am certainly not here by my own wish."

"A wish is the father of an action, effendim. You have but to wish, and----"

"What are you driving at?" said Frank as the Arab paused.

"There was a man of Trebizond who being falsely accused and unjustly cast into prison, nevertheless after taking thought confessed with tears that he was guilty of that crime; whereupon the heart of his jailer was softened and his hand was opened to receive the slight gifts that were the tokens of the prisoner's repentance, and within a little that man was free, and able to sin again or to lead a virtuous life as so pleased him."

"A parable, Hussein?" said Frank with a smile.

"For the ears of the wise, effendim. Wallahy! what are a man's goods in comparison with his freedom?"

"Which being interpreted means that you will let me go in exchange for what you call a few slight gifts?"

"Truly such gifts, here a little, there a little, will unlock prison doors and unbar city gates. But there is first one small matter, and that is that you breathe in my ear the nook where those few paltry rugs lie hid. Wallahy! what are a few threads of wool against the open road and the boundless sky?"

"Oho, friend Hussein! I must contrive a double debt to pay, is that it? The pipe sings sweetly when the fowler is snaring a bird, but this particular bird, I assure you, is not to be snared. You will waste your breath, Hussein."

"Allah is great!" said the Arab, as he made the salam and left the room.

A few days passed. Frank noticed that there was a slight deterioration in the quality of his food. Then one morning he had a visit from Wonckhaus.

"Good-morning, Mr. Forester," said the German pleasantly. "What an unfortunate thing this is!"

Frank made no answer. After a pause the German went on:

"We have been rivals in business, and now, through an unfortunate misunderstanding between our Governments, we are enemies. But the enmity is official, not personal, I assure you. We have crossed each other in business, but business men do not quarrel. And there is one circumstance that should make us friends. After all, you and I are Europeans among Orientals; that is a bond between us; and you will not take amiss advice honestly given by one European to another. You may not credit it" (Frank didn't), "but up to the present I have stood between the Turks and you. But for me your life would not have been worth a snap. Now I am about to leave the city for the front. The Turkish army, led by German officers, is about to deal a smashing blow to the barbarous Russians in the Caucasus, and to occupy Batum. Before I leave, it would give me great pleasure to see you in a safer position. It merely needs the exercise of your capital English principle of give-and-take. Why not disclose the whereabouts of your useless stock? In return, I would contrive that you should be sent to Constantinople and ultimately released."

Frank did not speak. His fingers were drumming on the table, his eyes fixed on the German's.

"I merely drop you a friendly hint," Wonckhaus resumed. "Things are looking very serious. The Turks are making a beginning with the Armenians: when the appetite for blood is whetted, they may easily fail to discriminate between Armenians and other enemies. You will not forget that you are in a very remote place. Erzerum is not Constantinople. Take a friend's advice and get back to civilisation. I will act as a go-between. If you will confide in me, I will make your peace with the Turks."

"What guarantee do you offer?" asked Frank, opening his lips at last.

"My word; you will not require more; the word of a German and an officer."

"But surely, Herr Wonckhaus, unless I am mistaken your word has not hitherto been accepted even by your allies the Turks. Pardon me for asking what has happened to give it value."

"You insult me!" snapped the German.

"Really I don't think so; I merely state a fact. You offer me something of no value as security for something of considerable value. That is not a business proposition."

Wonckhaus, stung as much by Frank's scornful tone as by his words, flushed darkly, and took a step forward, laying his hand on his sword.

"You English swine!" he cried. "You dare to insult me--me, an officer of the Kaiser?"

Frank had sprung up, and seized the handiest weapon available--a small three-legged stool. Keeping the table between himself and the German, he grasped the stool by one leg, and said:

"Keep your distance!"

Wonckhaus, whether daunted by Frank's threatening attitude or for some reason of policy, stood still, glaring venomously. Then he banged his half-drawn sword into its scabbard, and swung round. At the door he turned suddenly.

"Before your English carcase is flung to the dogs of Erzerum," he sputtered, "you will have time to--to repent your insolence."

He swung round again, slammed the door behind him, ordered Hussein outside to lock it, and clattered down the steps.

Frank dropped the stool and sat down, smiling at the feeble end of the German's explosive sentence. But the smile soon passed. His English spirit would not allow him to be cowed by Wonckhaus's threat, but remembering his isolated situation he could not help feeling uneasy. It was well for his peace of mind that he was not aware of what German frightfulness had already accomplished in Belgium.

It was not long before he began to feel the effects of Wonckhaus's malice. The cold weather had set in, and the Armenian winter is excessively cold. His apartment had been warmed by a nargal or charcoal stove. This was not replenished.

"The fire has gone out," he said to the Arab, when he brought his dinner.

"Fuel is very dear, effendim."

"I have still some money; I will pay."

"It cannot be bought, effendim. It is all required for the troops, who are slaying tens of thousands of Russians in the bleak mountains."

"Buy me some blankets, then."

"That also is impossible, effendim. Our brave soldiers need all the blankets in the frosty heights. Why does not your nobility send for those wasted rugs?"

The man's sly look made Frank itch to thrash him. It was clear from his manner that he was acting under instructions. Frank noticed, too, that his food was being reduced in quantity as well as poorer in quality, and suspected that this was directly due to Wonckhaus; the Turks as a rule do not treat their prisoners inhumanely. More than once he had thought of trying to escape, and with his increasing hardships his mind recurred to it again and again. To get out of the building might not be very difficult; Orientals are notoriously slack in guard; the lock of his room might be forced, and the soldiers in the rooms below evaded. But then the real difficulties would begin. He would be recognised in the streets as a European; even before he could reach the walls discovery and arrest were certain. Escape was impossible without assistance from outside, and he had no means of communicating with friends, nor was it probable that any European friends remained in the town.

Tortured by cold and hunger, Frank spent the most wretched month of his life during December. Strong though he was in constitution, he felt that he was growing weaker. For a time he tried to keep himself in condition by daily physical exercises; but insufficient food and lack of fresh air--he was allowed to mount to the roof for an hour a day--gradually reduced his energy. There was nothing to alleviate the tedium of his imprisonment: no newspapers, no books, nothing to occupy his mind. He was often tempted to purchase his freedom by surrendering his secret; but his native resolution and the mental picture of Wonckhaus's triumph kept him steadfast. And it was no ordinary will that could have withstood day after day Hussein's sly reminders of how easy it would be to command all the comforts he lacked.

One day early in January he heard unusual sounds on the staircase--a series of heavy clumping blows slowly ascending towards his room. The door opened, and Wonckhaus hobbled in on a crutch, assisted by an orderly, who stood in the doorway as if on guard, motionless, with expressionless face. The German looked pale and worn. He was swathed in heavy furs.

"I had not thought to revisit you so soon, Mr. Forester," he said, "but a Russian bullet has enforced me to return to the city for a short time, and I felt bound to see how you were faring."

Frank was silent; he was, in fact, amazed that Wonckhaus should have cared to show his face again after what had passed at their last interview. "The Germans must have uncommonly tough hides," he thought.

"Is there anything I can do for your comfort?" Wonckhaus continued. "You are not looking very well. I have some influence, a very little, with the Turks."

The German's manner was so subdued, his tone so courteous, that Frank wondered whether after all he had misjudged him. Perhaps he had been over hasty; perhaps there was some decent feeling in the man, which his own uncompromising attitude had prevented from showing itself before.

"I want warmth and good food," he said.

"Not warm enough?" exclaimed Wonckhaus. "Yet it does not appear cold. Indeed, I am too warm." He unloosed his fur coat. "And food, too; why, what do they give you?"

Frank saw that the German was playing with him. In a revulsion of feeling he flushed hotly, and was about to give utterance to his thoughts, but he restrained himself with an effort and remained silent.

"Call Hussein," said Wonckhaus to the orderly, whom Frank had seen without observing.

The Arab entered. The orderly followed him, and stood in the background. Frank just glanced at him, and was surprised to see him raise a finger to his lips, then drop his hand quickly and stand motionless as before, looking, however, hard at Frank. Wonckhaus and the Arab had turned towards each other, or they might have noticed the slight start and the enquiring glance into which Frank had been surprised by the orderly's movement.

"The effendi complains of his food," said Wonckhaus. "What does he get?"

While Hussein, with a look of sly enjoyment, was retailing the list of the meagre rations supplied, the orderly drew from his tunic a watch, apparently of cheap European or American make. He did not look at it, but held it up, then glanced at the window in the wall above his head on the left. Wonckhaus, following Frank's eyes, turned round. The orderly was affecting to look at the time.

"You surprise me, Hussein," said the German. "The diet is more than liberal. How often during the past month should I and my brave men have been grateful for such rations! Ah! these luxurious English! They have lived on the fat of the land. And what is the result? They are degenerate; they have fed the body and starved the mind. They are learning their mistake. That will do, Hussein."

The Arab left the room. The orderly returned the watch to his pocket, holding it significantly suspended by the chain for a moment. Then he stared straight in front of him, unintelligent, impassive.

"Well now, Mr. Forester," said Wonckhaus, "the lot of a prisoner can never be quite comfortable, though it is preferable to the hard lot of the fighting man. If you feel discomfort, the remedy is in your own hands. I need not repeat the explanations which you received so churlishly at our last meeting. I will give you another week for reflection. At the end of that time--well, we shall see!"