You'll have the whole of London running to look at us." Indeed the sight had so far roused the pale young man from his lethargy that he laid his dirty pink paper on his knees.

I kept hold of Carlotta's wrists.

She began to moan incoherently.
"You mustn't send me back--Hamdi will kill me--oh please don't send me back--he will make me marry his friend Mustapha--Mustapha has only two teeth--and he is seventy years old--and he has a wife already--I only went with Harry to avoid Mustapha.

Hamdi would kill me, he would beat me, he would make me marry Mustapha." That is what I gathered from her utterances.

She was frightened out of her wits, even into anticlimax.
"But the Turkish Consul is your natural protector," said I.
"You wouldn't be so cruel," she sobbed.