The Yale expositor. (Yale, St. Clair County, Mich.) 1894-current, 1912-10-10

hoi 6otbOh thSoC Nuy iOhA shiC soA'
of his eye he gave swift scrutiny to
his chance acquaintance, and he found
nothing to warrant suspicion. 1t was
not an unusual procedure for men to
hunt him up In Cairo, in Constantinople
in Smyrna, or in any of the Oriental
cities where his business itinerary led
him. The house of Mortimer e. Jones
was widely known. This man Ryanne
might have been anywhere between
thirty and forty. He was tall, well set
up, blond and smooth-skinned. True,
he appeared to have been ill-fed re-
Gently. A little more flesh under the
cheek-bones, a touch of color, and the
Irishman would have been handsome
man. George could read a rug league
off. as they say, but he was child in
the matter of physiognomy, whereas
Ryanne was a postmaster In this re-
gard; it was necessary both for his
business and safety.
Certainly, I'll take a look at it..
But l tell you frankly" went on
George, that to interest me it's got
to be very old one. You see, it's a
little fad of mine, outside the business
end of ii. I'm crazy over real rugs,
and | know something about every
rare one in existence, or known to ex-
ist. Is lit copy?"
mo. III tell you more about 1t
when we get to my room"
Come on, then" George was now
quite willing to discuss rugs and car
pets.
Having gained the room, Ryanne
threw off his coat and relighted his
cigar. which, in a saving mood, he had
allowed to go out. He motioned George
to be seated.
Just little yarn before / show you
the rug. See these cuffs?'
Yes"
You will observe that | have had
to reverse them Note this collar?
Same thing. Trousers-hems bit
frayed. coat shiny at the elbows"
Ryanne exhibited his sole fortune.
-Four sovereigns between me and a
jail"
George became thoughtful. He was
generous and kind-hearted among
those he knew intimately or slightly,
but he had the instructive reserve of
the seasoned traveller in cases like
this. He waited.
The truth is, I'm all but done for.
And If fail to strike a bargain here
with you. Well, l should hate
TO tell you the result. Our consul
would have to furnish me passage
home. Were you ever up against it to
tho extent Of reversing your cuffs and
turning your collars? You don't know
what life is, then"
George gravely produced two good
cigars and offered one to his host.
There was an absence of sound.
broken presently by the cheerful
crackle of matches; two billowing
clouds Of smoke fioated outward and
upward. Ryanne sighed. Here was a
cigar one could not purchase in all the
length>>and breadth of the Orient, a
Pedro Murias. In one Of his doubt
fully prosperous epochs he had smoked
them daily. How long ago had that
been?
Wonder is rug, prayer-rug, as
holy to the Moslem as the idols eye
is to the Hindu, as the Bible is to the
Christian. For hundreds OF years il
never saw the outside Of the Sultan's
palace. One day the late. the recently
late, Abdul the Unspeakable Turk,
gave it TO the Pasha Of Bagdad.
Whenever this rug makes its appear
ance in Holy Mecca, ii is worshiped,
and none but Sultan or a Sultan's
favorite may kneel upon 1t. Bagdad,
the hundred mosques, the old capital
Of Suleiman the Great, the dreary
Tigris and the sluggish Euphrates, a
muezzin from the turret calls to pray
err, and all that; eh?"
George leaned forward from his
chair, gentle terror in his heart.
THE Yhiordes? BY Jove! is that the
Yhiordes?"
Admiration kindled in Ryanne's
eyes. To have hit the 0ull's-eye with
SO free and quick an aim was ample
proof that Percival Algernon had not
boasted when he said that he knew
about rugs.
You've guessed it,"
How did you come by it," George
demanded excitedly.
why do you ask that?"
Man. ten-thousand pounds could
not purchase that rug, that bit OF car
pet. Collectors from every port have
been after ii in vain. And you mean
TO tell me that 1t lies there, wrapped
in butchers paper?"
"Right-O"
Ryanne solemnly detached q cuff
and rolled up his sleeve. The bare
arm was SCARED by two
long, ugly knife-wounds. scarcely
healed Next he drew up trousers
leg. disclosing battered shin. And
there's another on my shoulder-blade
the closest call | ever had. A man
who takes his life In his hands. as I
have done, merits some reward Mr.
Jones, I'll be frank with you. am n
kind OF derelict. Since was n bow. 7
have hated the humdrum of offices.