Excerpt from the Unpublished Papers of Professor Julius Arthur Smith
(Written circa 1932, discovered among his effects at University College London)
It was not long before all my companions were once again gathered at Professor Demir’s residence. The relief occasioned by the safe return of Captain Barrington and Miss Meadowcroft from their earlier misadventure proved brief, for events had already begun to move with alarming speed. The ransom note demanded that they present themselves at the docks on Sunday night; yet armed now with knowledge of Nisra’s refuge upon the most distant of the Princes’ Islands, they resolved upon immediate action rather than passive compliance.
Through Demir they were introduced to a certain Nine-Fingered Abdullah, a boatman of considerable local reputation and discretion. To him they explained the necessity for speed, silence, and the services of men willing to undertake hazardous employment without undue curiosity. Abdullah proved equal to the occasion, assembling a small party of dock labourers whose talents extended beyond the ordinary requirements of their trade.
Under cover of darkness they crossed the water, approaching the so-called Island of the Doomed Princes in the earliest hours of the morning. The landing was made without incident. Moving quickly and with admirable coordination, Fairfax and Barrington led their hired men in a sudden assault upon the lower quarters of the tower. The defenders—Nisra’s followers—were caught unprepared; some were subdued where they slept, others killed before they could mount effective resistance.
Only one offered serious opposition: a formidable Black eunuch named Ulug, whose strength and discipline made him a dangerous adversary. Fairfax engaged him in a struggle of uncommon ferocity below, while Barrington pressed upward with Professor Worth and Miss Meadowcroft toward the upper chamber where Nisra herself was believed to reside.
There they encountered a scene of unsettling luxury. The chamber was arranged in the fashion of a private harem, hung with silks and lit by perfumed lamps. Upon a couch of golden cushions reclined Nisra, composed and radiant, as though awaiting honoured guests rather than armed intruders.
At their appearance she rose and began to move—not in flight, but in a slow and deliberate dance whose rhythm and cadence carried a strange and compelling force. Captain Barrington, whose courage had never failed him in battle, found his attention fixed against his will, his purpose momentarily suspended by the hypnotic grace of her movements.
Miss Meadowcroft and Professor Worth, however, resisted the spell. Realising that the Blood-Red Fez remained the centre of Nisra’s power, they struggled to wrest control of it. What followed required a degree of will that few men—or women—could have summoned. With remarkable resolve, Miss Meadowcroft placed the Fez upon her own head and forced her mind against its influence.
By an effort that must have bordered upon self-destruction, she compelled the artefact to turn upon itself.
At that moment Fairfax, having slain Ulug below, reached the chamber. The sudden disruption of Nisra’s control broke the enchantment that held Barrington. Regaining himself, and recognising the danger still posed by the woman, he acted without hesitation. One swift blow ended her life, and she fell across the silken cushions, her beauty already fading into the stillness of death.
The Fez did not survive its defeat unmarked. As its power collapsed, the fabric seemed to liquefy and run down the side of Miss Meadowcroft’s face, leaving behind a deep crimson stain that no washing could wholly remove—a permanent reminder of the price at which such victories are sometimes won.
In an adjoining chamber they found Barlas, Demir’s kidnapped son, and the unfortunate Prince Ramazan, whose captivity had been masked by illusion and indulgence. With Nisra’s influence broken, the false splendour fell away. The prince, confronted suddenly with his true condition, suffered a collapse of mind from which he would never recover.
The survivors were conveyed from the island before dawn. The prince was placed into the care of the authorities, while Barlas was returned safely to his family. Demir’s subsequent letter spoke movingly of the joy that filled his household that night, and contained generous praise for those whom he described—more kindly than they would have admitted—as his son’s deliverers.
As for Mr Meyers, the destruction of the Fez freed him at last from its influence, though the ordeal had left him permanently weakened. His wife’s quiet devotion in the weeks that followed stands, to my mind, as one of the few wholly unshadowed examples of courage to emerge from that unhappy affair.
My friends remained in Constantinople for some days to recover before beginning their journey home. When at last they returned to London, safe though visibly altered by what they had endured, I did not attempt to disguise my relief.
There are few blessings greater than the knowledge that those one has sent into danger have come back again.
“Some evils may be ended, but never without a mark upon those who end them.”