Had the luck indeed changed and fortune begun to smile? It seemed so, for I had hardly spoken when Phroso suddenly clapped her hands and cried:

'A boat! There is a boat, my lord,' and she leapt forward and caught me by the hand, her eyes sparkling.

It was true--by marvel, it was true! A good, stout, broad-bottomed little fishing boat lay beached on the shingle, with its sculls lying in it. How had it come? Well, I didn't stop to ask that. My eyes met Phroso's in delight. The joy of our happy fortune overcame us. I think that for the moment we forgot the terrible events which had happened before our eyes, the sadness of the parting which at the best lay before us. Both her hands were in mine; we were happy as two children, prosperously launched on some wonderful fairy-tale adventure--prince and princess in their c.o.c.kle boat on a magic sea.

'Isn't it wonderful?' cried Phroso. 'Ah, my lord, all goes well with you. I think G.o.d loves you, my lord, as much as--'

She stopped. A rush of rich colour flooded her cheeks. Her deep eyes, which had gleamed in exultant merriment, sank to the ground. Her hands loosed mine.

'--as the lady who waits for you loves you, my lord,' she said.

I do not know how it was, but Phroso's words summoned up before my eyes a vision of Beatrice Hipgrave, pursuing her cheerful way through the gaieties of the season--or was she in the country by now?--without wasting very many thoughts on the foolish man who had gone to the horrid island. The picture of her as the lady who waited for a lover, forlorn because he tarried, struck with a bitter amus.e.m.e.nt on my sense of humour. Phroso saw me smile; her eyes asked a wondering question. I did not answer it, but turned away and walked down to where the boat lay.

'I suppose,' I said coldly, 'that this is the best chance?'

'It is the only chance, my lord,' she answered; but her eyes were still puzzled, and her tone was almost careless, as if the matter of our escape had ceased to be the thing which pressed most urgently on her mind. I could say nothing to enlighten her; not from my lips, which longed to forswear her, could come the slightest word in depreciation of 'the lady who waited.'

'Will you get in, then?' I asked.

'Yes,' said Phroso; the joy was gone out of her voice and out of her eyes.

I helped her into the boat, then I launched it; when it floated clear on the water of the cave I jumped in myself and took the sculls.

Phroso sat silent and now pale-faced in the stern. I struck the water with my blades and the boat moved. A couple of strokes took us across the cave. We reached the mouth. I felt the sun on my neck with its faint early warmth: that is a good feeling and puts heart in a man.

'Ah, but the sea and the air are good,' said Phroso. 'And it is good to be free, my lord.'

I looked at her. The sun had caught her eyes now, and the gleam in them seemed to fire me. I forgot--something that I ought to have remembered. I rested for a moment on my oars, and, leaning forward, said in a low voice:

'Aye, to be free, and together, Phroso.'

Again came the flash of colour, again the sudden happy dancing of her eyes and the smile that curved in unconquerable wilfulness. I stretched out a hand, and Phroso's hand stole timidly to meet it.

Well--surely the Recording Angel looked away!

Thus were we just outside the cave. There rose a straight rock on the left hand, ending in a level top some four feet above our heads.

And as our hands approached and our eyes--those quicker foregatherers--met, there came from the top of the rock a laugh, a low chuckle that I knew well. I don't think I looked up. I looked still at Phroso. As I looked, her colour fled, fright leapt into her eyes, her lips quivered in horror. I knew the truth from her face.

'Very nice! But what have you done with Cousin Constantine?' asked Mouraki Pasha.

The trap, then, had double jaws, and we had escaped Constantine only to fall into the hands of his master. It was so like Mouraki. I was so much aghast and yet so little surprised, the fall was so sudden, our defeat so ludicrous, that I believed I smiled, as I turned my eyes from Phroso's and cast a glance at the Pasha.

'I might have known it, you know,' said I, aloud.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE UNKNOWN FRIEND

The boat still moved a little from the impulse of my last stroke, and we floated slowly past Mouraki who stood, like some great sea-bird on the rock. To his cynical question--for it revealed shamelessly the use he had meant to make of his tool--I returned no answer. I could smile in amused bitterness but for the moment I could not speak. Phroso sat with downcast eyes, twisting one hand round the other; the Pasha was content to answer my smile with his own. The boat drew past the rock and, as we came round its elbow, I found across our path a larger boat, manned by four of Mouraki's soldiers, who had laid down their oars and sat rifles in hand. In the c.o.xswain's place was Demetri. It seemed strange to find him in that company. One of the soldiers took hold of the nose of our boat and turned it round, impelling it towards the beach. A moment later we grated on the shingle, where the Pasha, who had leapt down nimbly from his perch, stood awaiting us. Thoughts had been running rapidly through my brain, wild thoughts of resistance, of a sudden rush, of emptying my revolver haphazard into the other boat, aye, even of a.s.sa.s.sinating Mouraki with an unexpected shot. All that was folly. I let it go, sprang from the boat, and, giving my hand to Phroso, helped her to land, and led her to a broad smooth ledge of rock, on which she seated herself, still silent, but giving me a look of grief and despair. Then I turned to the Pasha.

'I think,' said I, 'that you'll have to wait a day or two for Cousin Constantine. I'm told that bodies don't find their way out so soon as living men.'

'Ah, I thought that must be it! You threw him down into the pool?' he asked.

'No, not I. My friend Kortes.'

'And Kortes?'

'They fell together.'

'How very dramatic,' smiled the Pasha. 'How came you to let Kortes have at him first?'

'Believe me, it was unintentional. It was without any design of disappointing you, Pasha.'

'And there's an end of both of them!' said he, smiling at my hit.

'They must both be dead. Forgive me, Pasha, but I don't understand your comedy. We were in your power at the house. Why play this farce?

Why not have done then what I presume you will do now?'

'My dear lord,' said he, after a glance round to see that n.o.body listened, 'the conventions must be observed. Yesterday you had not committed the offences of which I regret to say you have now been guilty.'

'The offences? You amuse me, Pasha.'

'I don't grudge it you,' said Mouraki. 'Yes, the offences of aiding my prisoner--that lady--to escape, and--well, the death of Constantine is at least a matter for inquiry, isn't it? You'll admit that? The man was a rogue, of course, but we must observe the law, my dear Wheatley.

Besides--' He paused, then he added, 'You mustn't grudge me my amus.e.m.e.nt either. Believe me, your joy at finding that boat, which I caused to be placed there for your convenience, and the touching little scene which I interrupted, occasioned me infinite diversion.'

I made no answer, and he continued:

'I was sure that if--well, if Constantine failed in perpetrating his last crime--you follow me, my dear lord?--you would make for the pa.s.sage, so I obtained the guidance of that faithful fellow, Demetri, and he brought us round very comfortably. Indeed we've been waiting some little while for you. Of course Phroso delayed you.'

Mouraki's sneers and jocularity had no power in themselves to anger me. Indeed I felt myself cool and calm, ready to bandy retorts and banter with him. But there was another characteristic of his conversation on which my mind fastened, finding in it matter for thought: this was his barefaced frankness. Plainly he told me that he had employed Constantine to a.s.sa.s.sinate me, plainly he exposed to me the trick by which he had obtained a handle against me. Now to whom, if to any one, does a man like Mouraki Pasha reveal such things as these? Why to men, and only to men, who will tell no tales. And there is a proverb which hints that only one cla.s.s of men tells no tales.

That was why I attached significance to the Governor's frankness.

I believe the man followed my thoughts with his wonderfully acute intelligence and his power of penetrating the minds of others; for he smiled again as he said:

'I don't mind being frank with you, my dear Wheatley. I'm sure you won't use the little admissions I may seem to make against me. How grieved you must be for your poor friend Kortes!'

'We've both lost a friend this morning, Pasha.

'Constantine? Ah, yes. Still--he's as well where he is, just as well where he is.'

'He won't be able to use your little admissions either?'

'How you catch my meaning, my dear lord! It's a pleasure to talk to you.' But he turned suddenly from me and called to his men. Three came up at once. 'This gentleman,' he said, indicating me, and speaking now in sharp authoritative tones, 'is in your custody for the the present.

Don't let him move.'

I seated myself on a rock; the three men stood round me. The Pasha bowed slightly, walked down to where Phroso sat, and began to speak with her. So, at least, I supposed, but I did not hear anything that he said. His back was towards me, and he hid Phroso from my view. I took out my flask and had a pull at my brandy-and-water; it was a poor breakfast, but I was offered no other.