"The man is an English agent," he replied, "and we have the evidence for it."
"Let me see it," I asked.
"We'll do nothing for any Englishman or any Canadian," he replied, "until they release Ayoub and Zinnoun."
"But you promised to treat English in the employ of Americans as Americans," I replied.
"That may be," rejoined the Minister, "but a promise is not made to be kept forever. I withdraw that promise now. There is a time limit on a promise."
"But if a promise is not binding, what is?" I asked.
"A guarantee," Talaat answered quickly.
This fine Turkish distinction had a certain metaphysical interest, but I had more practical matters to discuss at that time. So I began to talk about the Armenians at Konia. I had hardly started when Talaat's attitude became even more belligerent. His eyes lighted up, he brought his jaws together, leaned over toward me, and snapped out:
"Are they Americans?"
The implications of this question were hardly diplomatic; it was merely a way of telling me that the matter was none of my business. In a moment Talaat said this in so many words.
"The Armenians are not to be trusted," he said, "besides, what we do with them does not concern the United States."
I replied that I regarded myself as the friend of the Armenians and was shocked at the way that they were being treated. But he shook his head and refused to discuss the matter. I saw that nothing could be gained by forcing the issue at that time. I spoke in
