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When I had said au revoir to the Vali, I paid my return visit to the chief of the police, Zia Bey—a handsome and very energetic young man of about thirty-two, who speaks only Turkish.

Again we drank coffee. He pointed to the picture of M. Kemal Pasha above his desk, and made a little speech about him, which, alas, I could not understand. As comment, however, I clapped my hands, adding: “M. Kemal Pasha Chok Guzel” (i.e., very beautiful), which evidently pleased him. He could see at least that my spirit was willing to pay tribute to his national hero although the Turkish words failed me. Throughout Anatolia, whenever at a loss for words, I adopted this phrase; never once did it fail to convey the meaning I intended—congratulations for his magnificent victory.

Zia Bey has published some detective novels—from his own personal experiences. Like the man himself, they seem to have secured wide applause.

He, too, like the Vali, is a stern enemy to delay, and often receives several people at once. He will listen to all you have to say, while the business of an earlier caller is still to be executed. Practical and courteous though such a custom may be, it obviously has its drawbacks. I wonder what would happen had I any advice to ask, or any suggestion to make, on what to me at least might seem private and confidential matters. Thanks to this system, however, it has been my privilege to meet at the Vali’s, or at Zia Bey’s, many notables of Smyrna, whom I might not have found time or occasion to visit.