About
midday
It seemed to be about three miles out from the city , at the end of a steep lane on the inland side of the hill coming from the Bosporus . I fancied somebody of distinction lived there , for a little farther on we met a big empty motor-car snorting its way up , and I had a notion that the car belonged to the walled villa . Next day Blenkiron was in grievous trouble with his dyspepsia . About midday he was compelled to lie down , and having nothing better to do I had out the horses again and took Peter with me . It was funny to see Peter in a Turkish army-saddle , riding with the long Boer stirrup and the slouch of the backveld . That afternoon was unfortunate from the start . It was not the mist and drizzle of the day before , but a stiff northern gale which blew sheets of rain in our faces and numbed our bridle hands .