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Turkey considers herself at war, and red tape still prevails. But now one does not find many Turks who can speak English, though, strange to relate, there are quite a few English here still. We are not issuing passports to Turks!

Seeing my Turkish letters (better these than a British passport), the passport officer sent his secretary with me and my luggage to the Vali’s (i.e. governor’s) house. The Angora Ambassador in Rome, Djelalledine Arif Bey, had also telegraphed to the Vali that I was on my way, and requested that, as some acknowledgment of what I had done for Turkey, I should be given all possible facilities and a right royal welcome! The Vali, without doubt, did all he could.

I inquired of the officer what kind of man was the Vali, sure that the measure of his enthusiasm or his indifference would clearly reveal whether the master was liked by his men and thus provide me with a peep into the unknown. The man’s eyes positively lit up as he replied. It was clear that I should be well received by a good man. “He was sent to Malta, you know,” concluded the officer, as if that were enough. And, though I was English, I understood. I believe that the word “Malta” may soon be safely translated “patriot.”