The Snake Stone

26

The night watchman who patrolled the streets of Pera was used to the barking of the dogs. As he approached in the faint gleam of his own swaying lamp, the mangy animals would raise themselves from the shadows, from the doorways and the curbs, and their ritual protest carried on long after he had passed by. It was a matter of form, without moment: an unthinking ceremony that had long ago ceased to have any meaning for either the dogs or the watchman.

So it was that as he turned into the road which led past the French embassy, he was surprised by silence. For a few moments he stood still, scratching his head, while the lantern bobbed about at the end of a stick and swung a feeble yellow gleam this way and that across the unpaved road.

Then, through the silence, he heard a soft sucking and tearing sound. He hoisted his lantern and peered forward into the dark.