'My dear lord,' he cried, 'I could have spared you a tiresome walk. I thought your friends would certainly have told you of their intention, or I would have mentioned it myself.'

'My dear Pasha,' I rejoined, no less cordially, 'to tell the truth, I knew their intention, but it struck me suddenly that I would go with them, and I ran down to try and catch them. Unfortunately I was too late.'

The extravagance of my lying served its turn; Mouraki understood, not that I was trying to deceive him, but that I was informing him politely that he had not succeeded in deceiving me.

'You wished to accompany them?' he asked, with a broadening smile.

'You--a lover!'

'A man can't always be making love,' said I carelessly--though truly enough.

Mouraki took a step toward me.

'It is safer not to do it at all,' said he in a lower tone.

The man had a great gift of expression. His eyes could put a world of meaning into a few simple words. In this little sentence, which sounded like a trite remark, I discovered a last offer, an invitation to surrender, a threat in case of obstinacy. I answered it after its own kind.'

'Safer, perhaps, but deplorably dull,' said I.

'Ah, well, you know best,' remarked the Pasha. 'If you like to take the rough with the smooth--' He broke off with a shrug, resuming a moment later. 'You expect to see them back the day after to-morrow, don't you?'

I was not sure whether the particular form of this question was intentional or not. In the literal meaning of his words Mouraki asked me, not whether they would be back, but whether I thought I should witness their return--possibly a different thing.

'Denny says they'll be back then,' I answered cautiously. The Pasha stroked his beard. This time he was, I think, hiding a smile at my understanding and evasion of his question.

'I hear,' he observed with a laugh, 'that you have been trying to pa.s.s my sentries and look for our runaway on your own account. You really shouldn't expose yourself to such risks. The man might kill you. I'm glad my officer obeyed his orders.'

'Then Constantine is at the cottage?' I cried quickly, for I thought he had betrayed himself into an admission. His composed air and amused smile smothered my hopes.

'At the cottage? Oh, dear, no. Of course I have searched that. I had that searched first of all.'

'And the guard--'

'Is only to prevent him from going there.'

I had not that perfect facial control which distinguished the Governor. I suppose I appeared unconvinced, for Mouraki caught me by the arm, and, giving me an affectionate squeeze, cried, 'What an unbeliever! Come, you shall go with me and see for yourself.'

If he took me, of course I should find nothing. The bird, if it had ever alighted on that stone, would be flown by now. His specious offer was worthless.

'My dear Pasha, of course I take your word for it.'

'No, I won't be trusted! I positively won't be believed! You shall come. We two will go together.' And he still clung to my arm with the pressure of friendly compulsion.

I did not see how to avoid doing what he suggested without coming to an open quarrel with him, and that I did not desire. He had every motive for wishing to force me into open enmity; a hasty word or gesture might serve him as a plausible excuse for putting me under arrest. He would have a case if he could prove me to have been disrespectful to the Governor. My only chance lay in seeming submission up to the last possible moment. And Kortes was guarding Phroso, so that I could go without uneasiness.

'Well, let's walk up the hill then,' said I carelessly. 'Though I a.s.sure you you're giving yourself needless trouble.'

He would not listen, and we turned, still arm-in-arm, to pa.s.s through the house. Mouraki had caused a ladder to be placed against the bank of rock, for he did not enjoy clambering up by the steps cut in the side of it. He set his foot now on the lowest rung of this ladder; but he paused there an instant and turned round, facing me, and asked, as though the thought had suddenly occurred to his mind:

'Have you had any conversation with our fair friend this afternoon?'

'The Lady Phroso? No. She has not made an appearance. Perhaps I wrong you, Pasha, but I fancied you were not over-anxious that I should have a conversation with her.'

'You wrong me,' he said earnestly. 'Indeed you wrong me. To prove it, you shall have a _tete-a-tete_ with her the moment we return. Oh, I don't fight with weapons like that! I wouldn't use my authority like that. I am going to search again for this Constantine myself this evening with a strong party; then you shall be at perfect liberty to talk with her.'

'I'm infinitely obliged; you're too generous.'

'I trust we're gentlemen still, though unhappily we have become rivals,' and he let go of the ladder for an instant in order to press my hand.

Then he began to climb up and I followed him, asking of my puzzled brain, 'Now, what does he mean by that?'

For it seemed to me that a man needed cat's eyes to follow the schemes of Mouraki Pasha, eyes that darkness could not blind. This last generous offer of his was beyond the piercing of my vision. I did not know whether it were merely a bit of courtesy, safe to offer, or if it hid some new design. Well, it was little use wondering. At least I should see Phroso. Perhaps--a sudden thought seized me, and I--.

'What makes you look so excited?' asked the Pasha. His eyes were on my face, his lips curved in a smile.

'I'm not excited,' said I. But the blood was leaping in my veins. I had an idea.

CHAPTER XVI

AN UNFINISHED LETTER

I have learnt on my way through the world how dangerous a thing is a conceit of a man's own cleverness; and among the most striking lessons of this truth stands one which Mouraki Pasha taught me in Neopalia. My game was against a past master in the art of intrigue; yet I made sure I had caught him napping, sure that my wits were quicker than his and that he missed what was plain to my mind. In vain, they say, is the net spread in the sight of any bird. Aye, of any bird that has eyes and knows how to use them. But if the bird has no eyes, or employs them in admiring its own plumage, there is a chance for the fowler after all.

These reflections occur to my mind when I recollect the hope and exultation in my heart as I followed the Governor's leisurely upward march through the wood to the cottage. Mouraki, I said to myself, thought that he was allaying my suspicions and lulling my watchfulness to sleep by the courtesy with which he arranged an interview between Phroso and myself. Was that what he was really doing? No, I declared triumphantly. He was putting in my way the one sovereign chance which fate hitherto had denied. He was to be away, and most of his men with him. Phroso, Kortes, and I would be alone together at the house, alone for an hour, perhaps for two. At the moment I felt that I asked no more of fortune. Had the Pasha never heard of the secret of the Stefanopouloi? It almost seemed so; but I myself had told him of it, and Denny's information had preceded mine. Yet he was leaving us alone by the hidden door. Had he remembered it? Had he stopped it? My ardour was cooled; my face fell. He knew; he could not have forgotten; and if he knew and remembered, of a surety the pa.s.sage would be blocked or watched.

'By the way,' said Mouraki, turning to me, 'I want you to show me that pa.s.sage you told me of some time to-morrow. I've never found time to go down there yet, and I have a taste for these mediaeval curiosities.'

'I shall be proud to be your guide, Pasha. You would trust yourself there with me?'

'Oh, my dear Wheatley, such things are not done now,' smiled the Pasha. 'You and I will settle our little difference another way. Have you been down since I came?'

'No. I've had about enough of the pa.s.sage,' said I carelessly. 'I should be glad never to see it again; but I must strain a point and go with you.'

'Yes, you must do that,' he answered. 'How steep this hill is! Really I must be growing old, as Phroso is cruel enough to think!'

This conversation, seeming to fall in so pat with my musings, and indicating, if it did not state, that Mouraki treated the pa.s.sage as a trifle of no moment, brought us to the outskirts of the wood. The cottage was close in front of us. We had pa.s.sed only one sentry: the cordon was gone. This change struck me at once, and I remarked on it to Mouraki.

'Yes, I thought it safe to send most of them away; there are one or two more than you see though. But he won't venture back now.'

I smiled to myself. I was pleased again at my penetration; and in this instance, unlike the other at which I have hinted, I do not think I was wrong. The cordon had been here, then Constantine had; the cordon was gone, and I made no doubt that Constantine was gone also.

The front of the cottage was dark, and the curtains of the windows drawn, as they had been when I came before, on the night I killed Vlacho the innkeeper and fell into the hands of Kortes and Demetri.

The whirligig had turned since then; for then this man Mouraki had been my far-off much-desired deliverer, Kortes and Demetri open enemies. Now Mouraki was my peril, Kortes my best friend, Demetri--well, what and whom had Panayiota meant?

'Shall we go in?' asked Mouraki, as we came to the house. 'Stay, though, I'll knock on the door with my stick. Madame Stefanopoulos is, no doubt, within. I think she will probably not have joined her husband.'