During the past three or four days, mysterious events near Eyüp have drawn the attention of the public. In this neighborhood, incidents have occurred of children straying from home or neglecting to return from playing. These lost children are all too young to give an intelligible account of themselves to their parents. However, when asked where they went, they say merely that they “played with the beautiful lady.” The children always seem to disappear in the evening; two have been found by their parents the following morning. Police had to become involved. It is strange that they speak of a “beautiful lady.” However, police suppose that the children picked up the phrase from the first child and used it as occasion served. There is, additionally, a more serious and important aspect to the story. According to our correspondent and the police report, all of the missing children have been slightly torn or wounded in the throat. These wounds resemble the bite of a small animal like a rat or small dog. The children also showed visible signs of exhaustion. The municipality is conducting a rigorous search around Eyüp for stray dogs.
One last piece of information has reached our newspaper while awaiting publication: A child, lost yesterday evening, was found under a cypress tree in Eyüp cemetery. This child also had the same tiny wounds as has been noticed in the other cases. The poor child appeared to be so exhausted that he was unable to move. He appeared weak and emaciated, as though he had been through an illness in one night. This boy also said that he had been lured to the cemetery by “a beautiful lady.”
CHAPTER IX
FROM GÜZIN HANIM’S DIARY
24 September.—I finally read Azmi’s notebook from start to finish. My God… How horrible, how horrible! Whether it be true or only imagination, my poor Azmi must have suffered a period of hellish torture. Can such things ever be real? Did he write these long pages during a period of brain fever? It is impossible to discover; for his own mind and health I dare not broach the subject with him. But what of the man we saw in Sarayburnu Park yesterday? Did he not appear to be one hundred percent certain that the man was the Count? Does he believe what he saw and wrote? No doubt; is it not in his notebook that this Count would come to Istanbul? My God, will we face some inconceivable incident, some real and unprecedented catastrophe? Could it be that those awful, frightening stories that we heard as children from Rumelians and our nannies are true? Can this monster be in Istanbul? Ah, Azmi, so many things I would ask him if he were recovered from this mental illness!
Letter from Doctor Resuhî Bey to Güzin Hanim.
“24 September.
(Confidence)
“Dear Madame;
“I beg your forgiveness for bothering you like this. Because I have been responsible for the treatment of Sadan Hanim and have been empowered by both her fiancé and her poor mother, I have read Sadan Hanim’s letters and diaries. In them I have encountered stories of how close a friend you were to the deceased. I ask for your information to prevent great, inconceivably large catastrophes and to save some of your loved ones from pain. You may believe and trust me, for I am a close friend of Afif Bey and Turan Bey, fiancé of the deceased Sadan Hanim whom you loved very much. When and where may I see you? I beg your forgiveness again. I understand very well from the letters you wrote to Sadan Hanim that you have a golden heart and character. I am also aware of your husband’s illness; perhaps it would be better to keep our meeting private to avoid upsetting him. With all my respect.”
Telegram from Güzin Hanim to Resuhî Bey.
“25 September.
“Please come today, we can meet any time.
“Güzin”
From Güzin Hanim’s Diary.
25 September.—I cannot help feeling terribly excited as the time draws near for the visit of Doctor Resuhî Bey. I expect that it will throw some light upon Azmi’s horrible adventure. I will also learn more about my poor friend from this man, whose name I have read in the newspapers, whose work I have heard of, and who treated Sadan. Of course the doctor is coming to ask me about Sadan’s sleepwalking; however, Azmi’s diary, which was full of such horrible things, gets hold of my imagination and makes me feel as though everything is connected with it.
Luckily Azmi will be away from home today to take care of some important business. The doctor and I may speak as we wish.
The night of that day.—Resuhî Bey has come and gone; oh God, what a strange meeting! My head is spinning. I feel like I have lost my mind. It is as though I am in a nightmare. My God; can these things, even a small part of them, be true? If I had not read Azmi’s diary first, I should never have accepted even the possibility of what Doctor Resuhî Bey has told me. My poor, dear Azmi! I understand very well now what horrible suffering you have endured. My greatest wish is for all of this not to upset him again. But even if it does, it may be a consolation to know for certain that his eyes and brain did not deceive him. Who knows? Perhaps his current misery is caused by self-doubt. This Doctor Resuhî Bey is a strange person—not strange, but eccentric. I can now better understand the rumors about him in the press. However, I find it very odd that his generosity and great compassion for all mankind are not understood by everyone. When he abandons that rigid, dry, scientific exterior, he gives the impression of a compassionate father. When he sat in front of me today, without waiting for an offer or asking, he at once began:
“Güzin Hanim, I ask you again to forgive me and will come straight to the point: I have read all of the letters you wrote to poor Sadan, with permission and the curiosity given by my profession. Apart from these, Sadan also occasionally kept a diary after you left; I have read and examined this as well. It mentioned her sleepwalking and that you once rescued her. Now I ask you to tell me all you can remember about that.”
“Doctor, there is no need to remember. I have written it all in my diary as it happened; allow me to show you.”
I spoke these words and gave him the section of my diary which I had written out on the typewriter in the office. Since I had guessed that the doctor would ask about it, I had typed out the sections pertaining to Sadan in advance. When I explained this to Resuhî Bey, his eyes sparkled.
“Congratulations, Güzin Hanim; you have a rare business mentality that is unfortunately absent in many young women. Your husband Azmi Bey must consider himself lucky to have you.”
Then he sat down on the sofa near the window and began to read the papers as though he had forgotten the rest of the world existed. When he had finished, he said:
“Güzin Hanim, there is great darkness in this world, but also light. You are one of the lights. Reading the letters you wrote to Sadan and the passages from the diary you have been kind enough to give to me is enough to understand you. You are one of the lights and angels of this world. I congratulate Azmi Bey again. Forgive me, the importance of the job on my hands is making me forgetful. How is the health of your husband for whom, even though I do not know him personally, I have come to feel a deep and pleasant affection? There is a good chance that he may also have important and helpful thoughts on this matter.”
It was now the time to confess the deep, inconsolable pain in my heart: my concerns about Azmi’s health and spirit. To this great expert on mental and psychological health, I said:
“He was very well recently, but I think Rifat Bey’s death has affected him, for he became worse the other day in the park.”
The doctor interrupted:
“Yes, I know that Rifat Bey is dead; I have also read the last letters you wrote to Sadan on this subject. But what is the new incident? In what ways has he become worse? I may be able to offer an opinion if I knew these things.”
“In the park, Azmi thought he saw a man connected with an incident that caused his mental breakdown and left him with horrible memories.”
At that moment I stopped. I did not want to talk anymore; however, the whole thing overwhelmed me in a ru