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 dragged across Stamboul to a police-station, to discover myself possessed of a Greek wife I never knew I had—and to get her out of jail!"

He went to the door and clapped his hands. To the soldier who responded to the signal he said a few words, and then returned to me.

"I have sent for coffee and something to eat."

"But I don't want anything to eat. I only want to get out of here," I said petulantly.

"Pardon me," he said with severity, "but I am not accustomed to speak twice to my wives. They do what I say without objections."

"But I am not your wife," I retorted, nettled at his lofty tone.

"No? I thought you said you were," and again his laugh filled the room.

When the coffee and galetas were brought in, I ate meekly, and they tasted good. The hot coffee, especially, warmed me, and made things seem more cheerful than they had.

When we had finished eating, he said to me: "Now, mademoiselle, my carriage is downstairs, but I have explained to you why I cannot drive you direct to the Kallerghis."

"Suppose you take me to your home, and tell your favourite wife about it," I suggested.

His dark-blue eyes danced. "You think she will believe me, mademoiselle?"

"Why not?"

He shook his head. "When you are a woman,