ition, I told o he decision I’d made:

    “I’m not continuing he book any longer.”

    “?” said Butterfly as his expression changed.

    “tune in it. Our Sultan  off to tell Olive and Stork, as well.”

    Per igoones. As t croe, my only clue t t t very moment being loo tensity of tions of bismillai Resulullah.

    “Uncover ely,” someone said.

    te s’ve been eye to eye  smas see anyto t at a grave site, in an entirely different place…A memory: ty years ago, Our Sultan’s grandfato take Cyprus from tians. S Effendi, recalling t ted a commissariat for Mecca and Medina, issued a fated t it e for an island o remain under Cian infidel control. In turn, t task of informing tians of t t surrender to me. As a result, I o tour t t enced by tures ian  of t, trusting in tality displayed by tians, I delivered ty, supercilious fas Our Sultan desired Cyprus. tians  in tily convened, it  even to discuss sucter able. Furious mobs had forced

    me to confine myself to to get past t to strangling me, teers succeeded in escorting me out one of t passageo an exit t opened onto t unlike t for an instant t tall and pale gondolier dressed in  sigion in his eyes.

    Longingly, I dreamed of finis and returning to Venice. I approac: At t, angels are interrogating . ty of my oo mind.

    A croake my arm and accompany me on told ed  t morning to continue  t be completed, .

    I ILL BE CALLED A MURDERERto ttered and disfigured corpse of ill-fated Elegant Effendi and I  mo