“Anna is a very unusual person,” said Henrietta.

“A rare person. I knew that as soon as I saw her. That was why I went to her when I decided to change my way of life.”

He looked from one of us to the other, nodding slowly.

“And you intend to stay the course?”

“If you mean until we are no longer needed, yes,” I answered.

“But I hope the war will soon be over,” added Henrietta.

“They are saying Sebastopol can’t hold out and that it is the key to victory.

Once it has fallen the war will be over. “

‘ “They” often delude themselves. Optimism is a good thing and a great help but perhaps realism is more so. “

“Do you mean you think it will not fall quickly?” I asked.

“I think the Russians are fully aware of its importance and that they are as determined to keep it as the British and the French are to take it.”

“I don’t think I could bear years and years of this sort of thing,” said Henrietta.

“Then I should go home. I believe some of your people have.”

“Those who did not understand what nursing is, have left,” I said.

“But I believe that is nothing for us to regret.”

Again there was a scratching on the door. Dr. Adair called out something in Turkish, I presumed, and the man who had brought the coffee looked in and with him was another man. He was tall, brown-haired and brown-eyed, but he looked quite fair compared with the darkness of our host.

“Philippe!” said Dr. Adair.

“Good of you to come so promptly. Let me introduce you. Monsieur Philippe Lablanche, Miss Pleydell, Miss Marlington.”

Philippe Lablanche bowed.

“They have had the misfortune to lose themselves in the city,” said Dr. Adair.

“Will you take them back to Scutari?”

“It will be my pleasure,” said the gallant Frenchman, his eyes shining with admiration which I thought must be for Henrietta, who looked very pretty in spite of her uniform.

“I won’t offer you coffee,” went on Dr. Adair, ‘because they should be getting back without delay. ” He turned to us:

“Monsieur Lablanche is one of our inestimable allies. He will take good care of you.”

“I shall do my best.”

“There is a conveyance in the courtyard. It will get you to the shore.”

“We must depart then, ladies,” said Monsieur Lablanche.

We rose and I said to Dr. Adair: “We have to thank you.”

He bowed his head in acknowledgement.

“What we should have done without you …” began Henrietta with a shiver.

“It’s worthy of a little contemplation,” he replied.

“Look on it as a worthwhile experience and it will make you less rash in future.”

“I really had imagined our being drugged and taken off to someone’s harem,” she told him.

“I hope the disappointment was not too great.”

Henrietta burst out laughing.

“Well, it all ended most satisfactorily.

Thank you, Dr. Adair. Thank you a thousand times. “

“Once will be enough,” he said.

And we left.

As he said, there was a conveyance waiting in the courtyard. As we got in I could not help feeling exhilarated and not a little puzzled by the adventure. What was he doing there dressed like that, living like a Turkish pasha? What could it all mean? What a man of mystery he was!

He became more and more intriguing the more I knew of him.

Philippe Lablanche proved to be charming. He was very gracious and seemed especially so when compared with Dr. Adair. He pointed out the landmarks of the old city as we passed through it. It was dusk and from the minarets the faithful were being called to prayer. The city, beautiful and mysterious, seemed alluring yet sinister in the dim light. I looked at Henrietta. She was wide-eyed and excitement brought colour to her cheeks. She looked as though she were entranced.

Philippe Lablanche told us that he was attached to the French army and that Dr. Adair was a great friend of his.

“A wonderful man,” he said.

“I know of no one quite like him. He is what it is you say when a man is …”

“Unique?” I suggested.

“What is unique?”

“How one is if there is no one on earth like one.”

“That,” he said, ‘is Dr. Damien Adair. “

“Have you read his books?” I asked.

“But of course. They have been translated into French. So I read them.

But perhaps that is not so good. One day I read them just as Dr. Adair wrote them. “

“He is a man who likes adventure.”

“It is the breath of life to him.”

“You, too, must have an adventurous time. Monsieur Lablanche.”

“Yes, yes. But that is so with war.”

“I suppose,” went on Henrietta, ‘we should not ask questions about what you do? “

“How understanding you are.”

“Then,” went on Henrietta, ‘we will not ask. We will let our imaginations work in secret and we shall never be sure. “

“That is kind of you … to think so much of me.”

“It is you who are kind. You are taking us back to safety.”

“Dr. Adair is right, you know. It is unwise for ladies to walk alone.”

“We imagined that we were being taken to some sultan’s harem,” said Henrietta with a laugh.

“Oh … it is not an impossibility. Such things have been known to happen. Some ladies have been carried off. You see, these people do not feel as we do.”

“I know,” I said.

“Women are of no great importance in some countries, existing merely to serve the men.”

“That is so. Mademoiselle. So you see, in strange places we must be prepared for strange customs.”

“We shall never forget this day, shall we, Anna?” said Henrietta.

“First a few hours’ freedom. What bliss! Then to be lost … and all the terror of being driven through the streets not knowing where we were going. If only he had told us! But he couldn’t, poor man, not understanding the language. And to find ourselves face to face with Dr. Adair looking like a sultan himself … Wonderful!”

She was looking at Philippe Lablanche almost wheedlingly. She was implying: Tell us what you know about the strange habits of our fascinating doctor.

But charming as he was and he really seemed eager to please he was not telling us, that was if he knew anything to tell.

We were crossing the Bosphorus now.

“Leaving Europe for Asia,” said Henrietta.

“That sounds very adventurous … but it is just a little channel of water. What a fascinating place this is! I wish we could see more of it. Odd, isn’t it, to be in this place and all we see is rows of hospital beds.”

“I think you are wonderful,” said Philippe Lablanche.

“I know you are a great comfort to those wounded men.”

“It is more than Dr. Adair thinks we are,” I said.

“Oh no. He thinks you are doing good work. Nobody could disagree with that. We have heard so much of you and the good lady Nightingale. She is regarded as a heroine … more than that. A saint. And you, her helpers, are angels … angels of mercy. You will never be forgotten.”

“We don’t feel much like angels, do we, Anna?” asked Henrietta.

“Not in the hospital. Though some of the men like to see us, I believe. But the powers that be … half the time think we are a nuisance.”

“It is not true. It is just that there is no time to say how good you are. There is so much to do.”

We had reached the shore.

“I shall come with you to the hospital,” said Philippe Lablanche.

“Oh, there is no need to,” I told him.

“We shall be all right now.”

“I should not consider my mission complete if I did not. And I will tell you this: I have business in the hospital. Many of our men are there. There are duties. I come now and then.”

“Then we may see you again,” said Henrietta.

“I shall hope so. In fact, I shall make sure that we meet again.”

We climbed the slope. The hospital lay before us, looking almost romantic in the darkness without the pitiless sun showing us its crumbling decay. Now it could well be the sultan’s palace.

“We are so grateful to you,” said Henrietta.

“You have been so gracious and kind … not making us feel that we are a pair of fools. Hasn’t he, Anna?”

“Indeed he has. Thank you. Monsieur Lablanche.”

“It has been my great pleasure to escort you.”

He was holding my hand and smiling at me. Then he took Henrietta’s hand. She gave him one of her dazzling smiles.

“Thank you. Thank you,” she said.

He was still holding her hand.

“Goodbye,” she said.

“No … not goodbye. I come here often. I shall seek you out. It is au revoir. That is a much nicer way of saying farewell … for the moment.”

“Indeed it is,” replied Henrietta.

“Come along,” I said.

“Let’s hope we have not caused too much trouble by being late.”

We went into the hospital. In a few minutes we should be on duty. And that, I thought, is the end of that little adventure. But I could not stop thinking of Dr. Adair and wondering about him.

I glanced at Henrietta. I was sure she was doing the same.

We talked about it afterwards as, side by side, we washed sheets in the enormous tub, sleeves rolled up, arms plunged deep in the greying water.

“Do you know,” said Henrietta, “I believe he has a harem in that place. I believe he lives like a sultan. When we went into that room I was waiting for him to clap his hands and say:

“Take them away; bathe them in asses’ milk; encircle their anklets with jewels; perfume them with the scents of Araby and send them to my couch.”

“I believe he is capable of anything.”

“I am sure he is. But, Anna, isn’t he the most fascinating creature you ever met?”

“He is the strangest. I detest him.”

“I wonder about him. He just walks out of the hospital when he has had enough of it and goes to his harem. Who else would think of such a thing? I’d like to see them, wouldn’t you?”

“Who?”

“The harem women, of course. I imagine them … black-eyed and luscious. That black stuff they put round their eyes makes them very enticing. There is something about those women in yashmaks. Imagine withholding yourself from the world because your lord and master commands you to. You can see there is one aim in their lives: to be attractive to men. Wouldn’t it have been amusing if we had been dragged to his harem and to confront him there and say, ” Dr. Adair, I presume. “

“Your imagination always runs away with your common sense. I don’t suppose there was a harem. I believe people gather in places like that to take drugs. You can imagine them all lying’ about on divans smoking hookahs.”

“You’re worse than I am! I much prefer the harem. But what an interesting man. I never met a more fascinating one.”

She talked of him continually.

Winter was with us. Icy winds blew across the land and it was impossible to keep the patients warm. Always we were in need. Since we had arrived, Miss Nightingale’s organization, persistence and common sense had made a great deal of difference, but there was still not enough.

Eliza was now working in what was called the invalids’ kitchen, which had been installed by Miss Nightingale. She herself had brought with her and paid for herself arrowroot and meat essences, which she wanted for the very sick. Eliza’s strength was useful in lifting the heavy pans; and I think the work was more suited to her than actual nursing.

Ethel had changed. She looked happier. I discovered the reason why one day when I saw her tending one of the wounded. It was something in the manner in which she smoothed his sheets, the smile about her lips; and I saw in his response that there was some understanding between them.

She was gentle, quiet, some might think ineffectual, but that frailty and helplessness had an allure, even to a man lying on a sickbed who must be feeling rather helpless himself.

One day when I was in the kitchen helping to prepare food for one of the very sick men, Eliza said to me: “Have you noticed Ethel?”

“Yes,” I answered, “I have.”

“She’s in love.”

“With that man.”

“That’s it. I wish this war was over. Only hope he don’t get cured enough to be sent out again. Not a chance in ‘ell of him coming back if he goes out there again.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Usual. Bullet in the chest. They thought he was a goner when he was brought in, like so many of them, poor devils. But he’s come through?

If you ask me it’s love what’s carrying him along. “