The Heritage

“I accept your courtesy, Prince. My freedom of action I must preserve, but there need be no personal enmity between us. That would indeed be impossible in the presence of my accomplished confrère, the Princess your sister.”

The elaborate bow towards Zoe, with which he concluded, carried comfort to the anxious heart of Princess Emilia, watching from a distance. In her relief she seized upon Eirene as the nearest available person to whom she could pour forth her feelings.

“I was so frightened!” she said breathlessly. “It was so like a scene in the theatre,—the meeting of the rival heirs,—and they might have fought, or anything.”

“But who is the man?” asked Eirene, in bewilderment.

“Oh, Prince Christodoridi’s son Romanos, the other claimant, you know. When he wrote to my husband that he understood we were promoting a negotiation that gravely concerned his interests, we couldn’t wait to ask how he had heard of it, we could only invite him here. My husband wished to tell you at once, but I persuaded him to let the meeting be a surprise. I wanted Prince Romanos to meet my dear Zeto and fall in love with her without knowing who she was, so that there could be no quarrelling when it became known that he was here.”

“But what good could it do if he did fall in love with her?” asked Eirene blankly, her mind running upon the various disastrous consequences that were bound to ensue from this most inconvenient intrusion.

“Oh, but he could not fight against her brother then!” said Princess Emilia with conviction. “And Zeto might say she would not marry him unless he consented to acknowledge Prince Theophanis as the rightful heir. Of course I hoped she would fall in love with him too, because then she could make him do anything she wanted. That was why I did not tell her who he was, lest she should steel her heart against him as the enemy of her family.”

“It would have done no good if we had known of his coming earlier,” murmured Eirene, still intent upon her own thoughts. “We should not have been able to do anything,—it is not time yet.”

Princess Emilia listened with a puzzled face. “But you do think mine was a good plan, don’t you?” she asked. “I can’t quite decide whether it has succeeded or not yet, but you would be glad if it did?”

“Glad? Oh, yes!” laughed Eirene drearily. “But you don’t realise that Zoe is not the right girl to make a plan like that succeed. And he is not the right man.”

The worst forebodings of Eirene and the Professor were justified by the effect produced on the Emathian delegates by the appearance of Prince Romanos. All the animosities and differences of opinion which had begun to show signs of slumbering broke out afresh, and purely practical questions were shelved indefinitely in view of the primary importance of a disputed title. Among the bewildering complexities of race, religion, and political feeling that divided the delegates, it became gradually clear that while the Slavs, with whom went those of Scythian sympathies, were on Maurice’s side, the Greeks, and with them the friends of Pannonian ascendency, took that of Prince Romanos. A small group of Greeks—the personal adherents of Professor Panagiotis—remained faithful to Maurice, and an irreconcilable party, headed by Lazar Nilischeff, advocated the cutting of the Gordian knot by a request to Thracia to take over the whole of Emathia, while there were isolated supporters of similar action on the part of Mœsia and Morea. Still, the salient fact was that the harmony, and therefore the advantage, of the conference was destroyed. It was no use continuing to thresh out the questions from the discussion of which the rough draft of a constitution had gradually been emerging; and even Wylie’s scheme of raising a body of Sikhs, time-expired soldiers of the Indian army, as the nucleus of a central police, which had been warmly welcomed on the one hand and as violently opposed on the other, had lost its interest. As the less educated among the delegates demanded with one voice, whenever any attempt was made to continue the interrupted deliberations, what was the good of fiddling about details when the essential question, Who was to rule Emathia as the nominee of the Powers and the people? was still undecided. Passing popas were seized upon and catechised, and expeditions were made to interrogate mountain hermits of special sanctity, with the result of a wonderfully varied collection of answers. Was Maurice Theophanis, descendant in the direct line of the elder son of the Emperor John, debarred from succeeding by the fact that neither his immediate ancestors nor himself were members of the Orthodox Church? Did her marriage with a schismatic also invalidate the claim of his wife Eirene, descended from the younger son of John Theophanis? And in view of this flaw, was the otherwise inferior claim of the Christodoridi family, who sprang only from a female descendant of the Emperor, that which ought to prevail?

The arguments were interminable and warm, and the arbitrators to whom it was suggested to refer the matter ranged from the Hercynian Emperor to the President of the United States. Prince Romanos himself adhered firmly to the condition he had announced on his first appearance before the delegates. He was prepared to submit his claim to the arbitration of the Œcumenical Patriarch, and abide by his decision. Could anything be fairer, as the question was one of religion? Since it was practically a foregone conclusion that the Patriarch would decide in favour of the Orthodox candidate of Orthodox descent, Maurice and his supporters were unable to feel the same confidence in his impartiality, but a rift began to make itself felt between the Emathian Slavs and those with Scythian sympathies. The latter, though usually much opposed to the claims of the Patriarch, supported the reference of the matter to him, and in consequence of this defection it became clear that, in case of a division, Maurice would be outvoted. This point was not actually reached, but on the adjournment of the debate Professor Panagiotis hurried to Eirene.

“This is what I feared!” he cried. “It is an arrangement between Scythia and Pannonia. In order to gain time, one of them will support your husband, the other the Christodoridis, and they will both favour a reference to the Œcumenical Patriarch, who will take from a year to a year and a half to give his decision. We can do nothing until the snow melts, and yet, unless we can checkmate this plan, we are condemned to a delay that will be fatal to our hopes.”

“We must try to work on Prince Romanos,” suggested Eirene, but not cheerfully. “The Princess of Dardania is very anxious that he should marry Princess Zoe.”

“Ah, if that might be!” cried the Professor quickly. “But it is too much to hope.”

“But what good could it do?” asked Eirene, as she had asked of Princess Emilia. “He would hardly withdraw his claim through affection for her.”

“No, but if he marries her, he marries a schismatic, and his claim becomes infinitely weaker than your own,” was the fierce answer. Their eyes met, and Eirene drew a long breath. If Zoe’s fate had depended upon the deliberations of these two plotters, it would have been settled there and then.

CHAPTER IV.
THE STERN PARENT.

“Dear Zeto, why are you so unkind to poor Apolis?”

“I wish I could be, Principessina; it would do him good. But he sees nothing that he doesn’t wish to see.”

“Oh, but he feels it dreadfully. That poem which he addressed to you—how could you have the heart to read it aloud? It brought the tears to my eyes.”

“But it wasn’t addressed to me personally, you know. It was to the ideal love whom he sees in all women that are not actually old and ugly.”

“Ah, now you are unjust, and I can prove it to you. He has confessed to me that he knew before he came who Zeto was, and that he consented to conceal his identity because he hoped to win your favour before you had been prejudiced against him.”

“There is no prejudice whatever. The man doesn’t appeal to me. Can’t you realise that he hasn’t a chance? Why, I must be much more romantic than you really. You think one ought to be able to settle down comfortably with the second-best when one has missed the best, but that’s what I can’t do. The better the thing one has lost, the worse is the punishment of wanting it when one can’t have it, but that’s only fair, when the loss was one’s own fault.” There was a kind of soothing finality in speaking as if the loss in question had been irrevocably incurred a long time ago, not left hanging in doubt until quite lately, but it led Princess Emilia astray, very naturally.

“Yes, but the punishment need not last for ever,” she said eagerly. “You can never be quite so happy as you might have been, of course, but there is something in making another person happy. Apolis himself does not pretend that he never loved before——” Zoe’s lip curled involuntarily. “His first love married some one else. He can never forget her, of course, but he does not steel his heart against happiness. He quoted to me so pathetically—

and he quite agreed with me what a beautiful idea it was for the two wounded hearts to console one another. He was only afraid that the opposition of your family would prevent your ever listening to him, and I was so glad to be able to tell him how favourably Prince and Princess Theophanis regarded the idea.”

“Favourably?” cried Zoe. “Why, Maurice will have no more to do with him than he can possibly help. He just tolerates him as an opponent, but he could not stand him as a friend. But Eirene—— Ah, I see!” a light breaking in upon her, “this is Eirene’s doing. She thinks it would further her plans in some way if I married Prince Romanos. Very well, I will talk to her.”

“But you will be kind to the poor man?” pleaded Princess Emilia.

Zoe could not trust herself to reply. She was eager to get back to Eirene and reproach her with her duplicity, for it was evident that she had, to say the least, allowed the Princess to believe that Maurice favoured the pretensions of Prince Romanos. When she succeeded in finding her sister-in-law alone, and poured forth her accusation, Eirene quailed at first before the storm.

“If you knew my difficulties, Zoe!” she said deprecatingly. “Our plans are threatened on every side, and I am perfectly distracted—ready to catch at a straw.”

“But what possible good could it do if I did marry Prince Romanos?” demanded Zoe.

Eirene dissembled, for her true reason must at all costs be hidden both from Zoe and from Maurice. To her uneasy conscience, it was extraordinary that they did not divine it, and she lived in constant dread of its suddenly occurring to them. “Of course it would be to Maurice’s advantage,” she said. “Prince Romanos could not go to any lengths in opposing him if you were his wife. You might even prevail upon him to withdraw his claim altogether.”

“And what if I prevailed upon him to push his claim strongly, and helped him to win?”

“Zoe, you couldn’t! No, you are English. You could never turn traitor to your own family, and support the cause of a stranger against Maurice!”

“Turning traitor to my husband would not signify, of course.”

“It is not as if you cared for him,” said Eirene inadvertently.

“No, it is not. But I am to pretend to care for him, simply that I may betray him better! And you suggest it, you who know that there is only one man I would ever marry, and that therefore I shall not marry at all!”

“I thought you were old enough now to be willing to sacrifice your feelings for the sake of your family,” said Eirene, with deliberation. “Noblesse oblige, Zoe. It is part of a princess’s duty to make a political marriage. It is not as if I was asking you to give up any one on whom you had set your heart. As you say, that other episode is over—one need only look at Colonel Wylie to be sure of it. Besides, he told Lord Armitage that you had cured him, and he hadn’t the slightest thought of asking you again. So there is merely a memory to sacrifice,—a romantic idea of faithfulness,—and think what it may mean to Maurice. He and I have made sacrifices, too——”

“Maurice’s being entirely involuntary,” broke in Zoe, the impulse to return blow for blow strong upon her. “You have sacrificed his home and his domestic peace for him, which certainly ought to count in his favour. But you are not going to sacrifice my conscience for me. At any rate I am old enough to have learnt not to do evil that good may come, and I prefer to remain faithful to what you call my romantic ideas. For your own sake I would advise you not to make use of Princess Emilia to put any more false notions into young Christodoridi’s head, for if he speaks to me I shall certainly tell him the truth—and Maurice will support me.”

And with this Parthian shot—the sting of which to Eirene lay in the fact that it was only too literally true—Zoe departed. The next few days were marked, so far as politics went, by aimless rushings to and fro, conferences between groups, abortive negotiations, and other devices of the Professor for postponing that general meeting of the delegates which would lead to the adverse vote he feared. Then a stupendous fact precipitated itself like a landslip to dam up the stream of talk. The annual spring disturbances in Emathia began without showing Europe the courtesy of waiting for the melting of the snows. From the balcony of a house in the Christian quarter of Therma bombs were thrown at a passing body of Roumi troops, killing several men and horses, and producing a momentary panic. But the stout old Mohammedan military governor, Jalal-ud-din Pasha, was not a good subject for panic. He drew a cordon round the neighbourhood, and rumours crept about that the whole street in which the incident had occurred was to be razed to the ground. Before there was time either for this to be done, or for his soldiers to convert into facts, if such was their intention, the tales of murder and outrage which ran concurrently with the rumour, the bells of a church outside the threatened area rang violently, and hell was let loose. Bands of excited revolutionaries, armed with weapons hastily brought forth from concealment, attacked the soldiers, and were themselves attacked by the Mohammedan mob of the rest of the city, who had demanded arms from Jalal-ud-din to protect their lives,—a plea the justice of which that astute politician recognised instantly. Bomb explosions occurred in innumerable places, all the shops closed as if automatically, the churches and the foreign Consulates became a seething mass of refugees, and the Consuls telegraphed wildly in all directions for warships. That night a glow that lit up the sky for many miles proclaimed to seafarers that something larger than the ordinary nightly fires, which might be said to be epidemic in Therma, was in progress. A great part of the city was in flames, and by the light of the burning houses men fought like demons, or broke into buildings as yet untouched in quest of plunder and victims. The ships in the harbour put out to sea hurriedly, lest the conflagration should reach them, and every road and path leading from the city had its stream of fugitives, who had dropped from the walls, or bribed the guard with such valuables as they had saved to let them pass the gates. In the morning an indignant body of foreign representatives, shepherded through the roaring streets by an escort furnished by Jalal-ud-din, presented themselves at the residence of the Vali, who was a Greek by race, and demanded an interview. To their stupefaction they were received, not by Skopiadi Pasha, but by Jalal-ud-din himself, who explained that the Vali had disappeared during the course of the outbreak, whereupon he himself had taken up the duties of acting-Vali, pending instructions from Czarigrad, which could not be expected immediately, since all the telegraph-wires were destroyed. He promised protection and a speedy restoration of order; and the Consuls, knowing that Skopiadi Pasha could not have said more, and would probably have done less, went home convinced that Jalal-ud-din, though almost certainly responsible for his superior’s disappearance, was not without his good points. Poor Skopiadi, always anxious to please, but vacillating between the demands of the Powers and the directions of his own government, nominally free to act, but in reality fettered by a deadly fear of Jalal-ud-din and his troops, had worn out most people’s patience. For the more frivolous officials of the various Consulates it became an agreeable relief to the tedium of the day to exchange bets as to whether his military governor had had him murdered or only imprisoned.

The latest news that reached Bashi Konak from Therma, before the destruction of the telegraphs, was that the city was on fire and the troops engaged in a general massacre, and the excitement among the Emathian delegates and their sympathisers rose to fever-heat. Eirene durst not meet the eye of Professor Panagiotis, lest she should read there that all the horrors now occurring were a part of the plan she had concerted with him, nor was her conscience quieted by his vigorous denunciation of agents provocateurs and unauthorised revolutionaries. She knew that he was continually receiving and sending messages, and that his protestations did not ring quite true, and she had a horrible fear that in his eyes the untimeliness of the outbreak was atoned for by the severity it had evoked from Jalal-ud-din. With the inconsistency which Zoe was wont to call Eirene-ish, she made no attempt to undo what she had done, and found her comfort in refusing to let her boy out of her sight. Clasping him in her arms, regardless of his unconcealed preference for the toys from which she had snatched him, she could remind herself that it was all for his sake. Out of the blood and fire of the present would rise the imperial throne on which he should sit in the future.

It was at first suggested that the games, now drawing towards their close, should be discontinued in consequence of the news from Therma, but the Prince of Dardania decided otherwise. His little capital was filled with a motley crowd of competitors from all parts of the Balkans and sightseers from many parts of Europe, and to leave these without the occupation for which they had come to Bashi Konak would inevitably tend to turn their thoughts to politics. Then would come heated discussions and inflammatory speeches, and the correctness of attitude on which Prince Alexis prided himself as characteristic of his state would be imperilled. He had sacrificed much in order to give no offence to any one, allowing Princess Emilia to feed daily a large company of refugees from Emathia at great expense and in a highly inefficient manner, and refusing to allow volunteers or warlike stores to be conveyed across his frontier into the disturbed districts, and he had no mind to lose his reward. When the general break-up came, who would be so fit to receive an accession of territory as the ruler who had resisted every temptation to take part in hostilities, who had contrived, as far as mortal man could, to live peaceably with each of his neighbours and yet alienate none of the others? Therefore the Prince decreed that the aquatic sports, with which the festival was to end, should take place as had been announced, and the Court and its guests prepared to migrate from the capital to the port for the purpose.

The day before the move, Zoe went to the Palace as usual by way of the garden, and was surprised to find Princess Emilia in a highly disturbed state. Her flushed face and agitated manner suggested that she had just gone through a trying scene, and Zoe ascribed the trouble mentally to the Dowager Princess, whose visit was certainly not proving an unmixed success. Princess Emilia looked up at her friend’s entrance, and ran to her impulsively.

“Zeto, dearest Zeto, tell me; you have learnt to care for him, haven’t you? You are going to make me happy?”

“Not in that way, Principessina. But you mustn’t let it make you miserable. He is happy enough.”

“Oh, he!” cried the Princess viciously, dismissing the absent Romanos with an emphatic gesture. “I don’t care about him; it is you. That he should have dared——! Oh, but I promised I would say nothing. But assure me that you don’t care for him, Zeto. Comfort me in that way, if not in the other. If you do care for him, he shall still—— But you wouldn’t like that. Oh, I don’t know what I am saying!”

“Most certainly I don’t care for him, if that will comfort you,” said Zoe, bewildered. “But what has he done—or is it I? I always told you I should never think of marrying him, so please don’t try to bring him reluctantly to my feet. Of course I knew he didn’t really care, but you wouldn’t believe me. How have you found out now that I was right?”

“Oh, it was a revelation—a detestable revelation! It was my mother-in-law who brought it about, of course; all the disagreeable things happen through her. Pretending to gratify my dear romantic heart, too! But, Zeto, he is to ask you formally to marry him, and abide by your answer. I insisted on that.”

“My dear child, what was the necessity?” cried Zoe impatiently, but Princess Emilia drew herself up.

“It was due to me. I will have it done, and he understands perfectly. You will find him in the garden. I sent her—Olimpia—to tell him to wait for you on the terrace. Don’t go near the orange walk, for my mother-in-law is there. She retired there to weep over my ingratitude, she said, so keep to the other end of the terrace.”

Zoe was conscious of a strong wish that both Princess Emilia and her mother-in-law would confine themselves to their own affairs, but as nothing would satisfy the former but that she should immediately receive and refuse the formal proposal of Prince Romanos, without betraying any knowledge of his alleged perfidy, she went out into the garden again. A graceful figure in white, with a large parasol, passed her on the steps of the terrace, and Zoe thought with surprise that she had never known before that Donna Olimpia disliked her. Perhaps she was jealous of her Princess’s favour for the stranger. On the terrace was Prince Romanos, leaning in an interesting attitude upon the marble balustrade. He turned with a start as she appeared at the top of the steps, and she wondered once more that this poseur, with his instinctive knowledge of the artistic effect of his every word and action, should even care to enter upon the rough-and-tumble strife for supremacy in Emathia, and far more that he should be able to intervene with the decision and shrewdness he had already displayed. With a wave of the hand, as he met her, he indicated the view upon which he had been gazing.

“Is it not characteristic of this land of ours?” he asked her. “Hills barren almost to bareness, intersected by lines of unsurpassable verdure wherever water is to be found. Do we not see in it also a type of the Emathian character, Princess—strength, even rigidity of outline, united with a peculiar tenderness in the region of the affections?”

“How very original!” said Zoe, much entertained as she realised the accomplished way in which he was leading up to the performance of his task. “In those few words you have given me quite a new view of the Emathian nature.”

“Have you not studied it too little, Princess? Forgive my suggesting it, but don’t you isolate yourself unduly from your own race,—from its Greek portion, at any rate? A closer knowledge—the companionship of one who would as humbly teach as he would proudly learn from you—might not this——?”

He paused, with speaking eyes fixed upon her face, and she perceived that he had so thrown himself into his part that for the moment he was living in it. The dramatic strain in her own nature responded to his success.

“Some people are too old to learn,” she replied, with a touch of suitable melancholy; “and some have already had such hard lessons that they don’t care to take more.”

“But not such natures as yours, Princess! Or at least your kind heart would overrule the promptings of your wounded spirit. I also have suffered. We are linked by the kinship of sorrow; why not then——”

“Stop, rascal!” The startling words, in Greek, broke in upon the murmured conference, causing Prince Romanos to spring away from Zoe, of whose hand he had been trying to possess himself. Across the stage—this was how Zoe, already impressed with the theatrical nature of the occasion, phrased it to herself—swaggered a venerable gentleman who might have stepped out of an opera, so gay was he with stiff white kilt, embroidered jacket and tasselled cap, and so warlike with his sashful of bristling weapons.

“You, lord!” responded Prince Romanos mechanically.

“Yes, I!” replied the apparition, speaking now in bad but vigorous French, evidently for Zoe’s benefit; “and it is high time I came. I find my only son, the heir to the imperial heritage, saying soft things to a schismatic woman, who hopes to beguile him into marrying her.”

“Sir, you insult the lady!” broke forth his son. “Permit me to present you to the Princess Zoe Theophanis.”

“What! one of the English impostors? Why, this is worse than I believed. Miserable boy, have you no pride of race? is the honour of your house nothing to you? Can’t you see that it is the one chance of these—these——” Prince Christodoridi choked back the word upon his lips, and replaced it weakly with “these impostors—to draw you into their coils, to make it appear that we—we the Christodoridis—think them fit to marry with? You, who can show an unbroken Greek and Orthodox descent from Eudoxia Theophanis, think it no shame to seek in marriage the daughter of a race of schismatics!”

“Perhaps I may as well say that I have no intention whatever of marrying your son. In fact, the question had not arisen,” said Zoe. “I will leave you to discuss your family matters together.”

“Wait one moment!” cried the old man, placing himself in her way. “I know how you and this degenerate son of mine think to laugh at me behind my back and carry out your plans, but remember this. I will acknowledge no such marriage, and if you venture to set foot on the island of Strio, you may land, but you will never leave it again. I am lord of life and death on my own ground. When the first King of Morea tried to enforce the conscription among the Striotes, my father sent him back a boat-load of his soldiers’ heads, and if I furnish twenty sailors yearly to the Morean navy, it is by virtue of a treaty as between equals. Therefore bear in mind that Strio has dungeons as well as a palace.”

“It sounds interesting,” said Zoe, with a sigh; “but if marrying your son is the only way of getting there, I am never likely to see Strio, I fear. Would you kindly——?”

Prince Christodoridi obeyed the gesture and stood aside, and Zoe descended the steps slowly. A change seemed to have passed over Prince Romanos with her departure, and he beckoned authoritatively to his father.

“Come to the other end of the terrace and let us talk. You are satisfied now, I suppose? You renounce the prospect of the imperial throne rather than disgorge a few of the hoarded coins which my grandfather gained by piracy——”

“Hush, hush!” said his father, looking round apprehensively.

“Oh, I am not accusing you of piracy—you know the Powers would blow Strio out of the water if you tried it. You refuse even to allow me any help towards asserting our rights, and when I lay a plan for profiting by the efforts of these people here, you come to spoil it.”

“You shall not marry a schismatic,” was the obstinate reply.

Prince Romanos shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. “Must I point out to you in so many words that I have never had the faintest intention of marrying the impostor’s sister? But I had every intention of accounting for my presence here, and keeping them all in good temper, by making love to her. Now that is ruined.”

“She would have trapped you into marrying her. A man is no match for a woman.”

“Not some men, perhaps,” with scarcely veiled contempt. “But this woman cares for some one else. Otherwise, most excellent lord, you would not have had the chance to interrupt us to-day, for we should be betrothed already, and I should be on the point of success.”

“I have done nothing,” grumbled Prince Christodoridi.

“You have created an atmosphere of suspicion and hostility, whereas, under cover of the general friendliness, I was about to step into possession of all the advantages our enemies have secured, and oust them with their own weapons, without spending a drachma. Was not that worth doing?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“It is quite true, though you would not believe it two years ago, that Panagiotis has honeycombed southern Emathia with Greek societies. They are supplied with arms, and are under orders to assemble when he gives them the signal, and seize a number of positions, which can easily be fortified, about Hagiamavra. He means to direct them from here, with Theophanis, but I mean to throw myself among them, and take the lead in the fighting. Which Prince is more likely to win the suffrages of the Emathians—the one who remained safe at a distance, or the one who has fought for freedom at their head?”

Prince Christodoridi looked at his son with grudging admiration. “That is indeed a plan!” he said. “To make use of the impostor’s own preparations to defeat him, and without any expense! Is there—must you give it up now?”

“Can you show yourself friendly to all—even to the impostor—while I try to soothe Princess Zoe and convey to her that my devotion is unchanged? It will only be for a few days.”

“Did not your grandfather welcome the King of Morea’s officer and set wine before him an hour before he stabbed him to the heart? Fear not, son; I can do as well as he.”

CHAPTER V.
TWO DIPLOMATISTS.

The colloquy between Prince Christodoridi and his son had taken place at the farther end of the terrace, from which led the orange walk mentioned by Princess Emilia in speaking to Zoe. On a marble seat under the orange-trees, shaded by the terrace but invisible from it, sat a lady in black, who was a deeply interested auditor of all that passed. When Prince Romanos and his father prepared to descend the steps, she rose from her seat and hastened noiselessly down the avenue, turning sharply when she had gone about twenty yards, so that as they came round the curve in the marble staircase she was visible coming towards them under the orange-trees with a book in her hand.

“It is the Dowager Princess,” murmured Prince Romanos. “Permit me, madame, to present my father.”

A thought seemed to strike Prince Christodoridi as he glanced at the still handsome face, and noted the repressed fire of the dark eyes. “It is perhaps to you, madame, that I am indebted for the message that brought me here?” he asked in his bad French.

The Princess looked surprised. “To me, monsieur? Certainly not. It is not for me to send invitations to my son’s capital nowadays.”

“I am at Bashi Konak uninvited, madame. The message to which I refer was a warning that my son here was on the point of marriage with a schismatic, the sister of the impostor Teffany.”

“A message which I am hardly likely to have sent, since I have the best means of knowing that your son has not the slightest thought of the kind.” The Princess bestowed a sympathetic smile on Prince Romanos, who looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“So he tells me. As to the truth of the matter, you are happy if you can feel sure you have come upon it, madame. I trust you are on my side?”

“Undoubtedly, Prince. In my opinion it would be a grave mistake for your son to countenance the Teffany claims by allying himself with one of the family, as with an equal.”

“Madame, I see you are a woman of sense. But permit me to say I had doubted it. What is your connection with a wretched renegade Greek in Roumi employ, whom we picked up last night from the wreck of a fishing-boat we ran down?”

“Are you asking me riddles?” demanded the Princess, with distinct displeasure. “Pray, does this person assert that he is in my service? You will allow me to remind you that he is not necessarily speaking the truth.”

“With that I have nothing to do,” was the rough reply. “When I saw the fellow’s frock-coat and fez I nearly bade my men throw him back into the water again, but he pleaded with me by God and the all-holy Virgin to spare his life and land him at some Pannonian port. I told him plainly that I would not go an inch out of my way for him, but he might slink on shore here if he liked. Then he seemed happier, and said that the Dowager Princess would vouch for him. He had escaped from Therma, he told one of my men.”

The Princess’s eyes met those of Prince Romanos in amused surprise. “Can it possibly be Skopiadi Pasha?” broke from both of them. “A grey-haired man with a glass eye?” added the Princess.

“That’s the fellow,” assented Prince Christodoridi.

“This is really very funny,” said the Princess, with decorous mirth. “It is a good thing you did not throw the poor man back into the water, Prince. Now we shall get authentic news as to what has happened at Therma. And am I really the only person to whom poor Skopiadi could appeal? I came in contact with him years ago, at the time of the Rhodope negotiations, but I never expected to be asked to vouch for him after a shipwreck. We must certainly relieve his mind at once, and see that he is treated properly. You are rather too stalwart a partisan for the present day, Prince.”

She had turned and walked towards the Palace with them, and now left them, with an amused smile. Prince Christodoridi was purple with indignation.

“Does the woman expect me to make an apostate a welcome guest?” he demanded. “These are fine times, indeed! Why, your grandfather would have fastened him up in the rigging, and let the worst shots among the crew practise on him. A good thing I didn’t put him back into the water, was it? I wish I had!”

“We have to consider our neighbours’ susceptibilities a little nowadays,” said Prince Romanos languidly. “After all, Skopiadi is still Vali of Therma, and the Prince of Dardania doesn’t want to get into trouble at Czarigrad. I think there may yet be some surprises in store for you, lord.”

Prince Christodoridi recognised the truth of this prophecy in the afternoon, when he found the man he had treated so cavalierly received as a guest whom the Dardanian Court delighted to honour, and accorded—so his jealous mind averred, though no one else could distinguish it—a precedence superior to his own. Prince Christodoridi and his ship’s crew were accepted as welcome recruits for the aquatic sports of the morrow, but in social matters they were outer barbarians compared with the despised Skopiadi, who was in the inmost circle of European diplomacy, and knew everybody. It was some consolation to the wounded spirit of the island ruler that his rival begged to be allowed to absent himself from the festivities at the port, on the plea that his health was suffering from the hardships met with in his escape. His account of this reflected the highest credit upon himself. Driven to desperation by the insubordinate conduct of Jalal-ud-din, whom he had discovered to be plotting a massacre of the Christians, and who had incited his own guard to murder him, he had gone on board a steamer in the harbour at the beginning of the troubles, intending to go straight to Czarigrad, and lay his case before the Grand Seignior, demanding support against his aspiring colleague. Unfortunately, when the fire broke out in the city, and accounts of fresh horrors arrived perpetually by the mouth of a continuous stream of refugees, the captain of the steamer refused to take his ship to Czarigrad, or any Roumi port, and the unfortunate Skopiadi would have been carried off to Egypt if he had not insisted on being transferred to a fishing-boat, the crew of which promised to put him on shore at some Illyrian coast-town. The sad accident which had brought about the loss of the fishing-boat prevented this, and it was to the prompt help of Prince Christodoridi that the Pasha owed his life. It was only natural that he should feel unstrung and disinclined for gaiety, and he listened without regret to the bustle which marked the departure of his hosts and their other guests. The Palace and its grounds were at his command, and he wandered out into the garden with great contentment, though not without the occasional apprehensive start which betrayed that his dwelling-place had of late been in the midst of alarms. He encountered nothing more alarming than the Dowager Princess, sitting at work on the marble seat in the orange walk, but for a moment it seemed as if he found her as terrifying a sight as he could well have met. Then he rallied his courage, and was about to retire with a bow, when she stopped him.

“Pray, monsieur, do not treat me as if I were a monster. We seem to be left to keep each other company, so you must be good enough to entertain me.”

At her gesture he took a seat, as far from her as the limits of the marble bench would allow, and protested, with all the ease and vivacity of a criminal summoned to execution, that he could ask for nothing better than to be allowed to make an humble effort to entertain her Royal Highness. She watched him through half-closed eyelids, enjoying his discomfiture.

“And when do you propose to return to take up the duties of your post, monsieur?” she asked him softly. “I have not observed any undue anxiety on your part to discover the quickest way of getting back to Therma.”

“My health, madame—the shocks I have undergone——”

“Ah, yes—true. The first shock occurred before you embarked, did it not? Otherwise you could hardly have mistaken a Port Said boat for a Czarigrad one.” The unhappy man writhed. “And it must have been most humiliating when the captain defied you to your face,—of course you had threatened him with condign punishment if he did not put back and land you on the quay again?—and even refused your lavish offers of money.” She looked across at him, then laughed gently. “No, my poor Skopiadi, nature never intended you for a hero, but she made you a serviceable diplomatist. Why did you run counter to all her warnings by allowing them to make you Vali of Therma?”

“Alas, madame! I had no choice.”

“I see. On the whole it was rather less dangerous to accept than refuse, was it? Your ruin was only problematical if you went, but certain if you stayed at Czarigrad. I imagine, however, that you gave no hostages to fortune? Madame Skopiadi and your daughters are nowhere in the Roumi dominions?”

“My wife was unable to accompany me to Therma, madame. She was ordered to take a protracted cure at Charlottenbad, and she is now in Paris, superintending the education of her daughters.”

“Very wise. And I shall not be doing you an injustice if I suppose that your fortune is safely invested—also outside the Roumi dominions? On the whole, then, we may take it that you have no thought of returning to Czarigrad at present—in fact, that you will studiously remain at a distance from it?”

“Madame, I neither assent to your conclusions nor deny them.”

“It is unnecessary. But observe, monsieur, they are more than conclusions, they are facts. Still, they will remain hidden in my mind, unless I have occasion to make them public. You have a considerable reputation in Europe, I believe? The Powers all favoured your appointment?”

“Unfortunately for me, madame, they did.”

“Then you have some thought, doubtless, of visiting the Foreign Ministers of the interested Powers, and explaining the reasons for the failure of your mission? I think it might be well, in your own interest.”

“I shall be honoured, madame, if I can combine any interest of yours with my own.”

The Princess frowned. “If these things are to be done, they should not be said, monsieur.” He bowed, crestfallen. “It is your unbiassed opinion, is it not, that the present state of things in Emathia cannot continue? Nothing is to be hoped for from the system of illusory safeguards imposed by the Powers on the Roumi Government?” He bowed again, but evidently thought silence wiser than speech. “A new plan must be tried, involving the virtual expatriation of the Roumis. They may keep garrisons in Therma and two or three other cities, in token of suzerainty, but the province must be administered by a Commissioner appointed by the Powers, and responsible to them.”

“You have voiced my own opinion, madame. But these claimants—which do you support?” He trembled at his own audacity in asking the question, but an answer was vital for the direction of his future course. The Princess showed no anger as she replied with much frankness—

“Neither. I hope to show you that they are both impossible. What do you think of a plan to seize the Hagiamavra peninsula, and defy the Roumis there at the head of the Emathian insurgents?”

“There is no doubt that such a scheme would gravely prejudice its planner in the eyes of Europe, madame.”

“This is more than a scheme. In a few days it will be a fact.”

“And you would have the Powers occupy the peninsula, madame, and thus frustrate the plot?”

“By no means!” There was something almost amounting to despair at his obtuseness in the Princess’s voice. “It must not be frustrated. They must carry it out, and make themselves impossible. Listen. It is Romanos Christodoridi who has conceived the plan, but I can ensure that the other party adopt it. They are stronger than he, and will probably succeed in establishing themselves at Hagiamavra. If blows are exchanged, it will only be a proof of the unfitness of both sides to rule; it may even eliminate him altogether. But if not, he can be removed from the path in another way—by a schismatic marriage.”

“With Princess Zoe Theophanis?” asked the listener.

“No, that would be too great a risk. The united claims of the Theophanis descendants would be too strong, if they agreed to act together instead of quarrelling. Another marriage, far more efficacious for the purpose—— But leave that to me.”

“I desire nothing better, madame. But who, then, is your candidate?”

“Need you ask, monsieur?”

“I must have it from your own lips, madame.”

“That is absolutely unnecessary.” The Princess was clearly annoyed, but there was a point beyond which the Greek could not be brow-beaten.

“Unless I know your wishes, I cannot undertake to forward them, madame.”

Defeated by his obstinacy, she spoke hurriedly. “You must represent the importance of haste. Unless Europe intervenes at once, the Balkans will be in a blaze, and the conflagration may spread. The delay for which Scythia and Pannonia hoped, which was to defer the crisis until they were ready to divide Emathia between them, is out of the question. In the circumstances, what better ruler could there be than my son Kazimir,—a persona grata to Scythia, connected with every royal house in Europe, born and brought up in the Balkans, in the one state which has given the Powers no trouble, and unmarried?”

“Undoubtedly, madame, there are few candidates with superior claims—if those of descent are to be ignored.”

“I tell you, the claimants here shall render themselves impossible. My son will need advisers, monsieur,—men acquainted with Emathia——”

“You honour me, madame. Provided, then, that the Theophanis claim becomes a mockery——”

“Trust me for that. I have a little experience, you will allow? Indeed, I believe I know too much for my son’s gardeners. I always declared that this orange walk ought to run in the opposite direction, and you can see how much better the growth of the trees would have been.”

The words might have suggested that the Princess had suddenly taken leave of her senses, as she rose and emphasised her meaning vigorously with gestures; but they were accounted for to Skopiadi Pasha by the appearance of a lady-in-waiting, who was hovering in the middle distance, anxious to know where her Royal Highness would have tea served. The colloquy was at an end, but all that was necessary had been said, and it remained only for both parties to carry out their agreement. The Princess was the first to make a move, having the advantage over Skopiadi Pasha in that the material on which she had to work was close at hand. She began upon it the same evening, when the princely party returned from the port, tired and sunburnt, and decidedly inclined to think that aquatic sports were generally over-praised, at any rate from the spectators’ point of view. In Princess Emilia’s hearing she asked Donna Olimpia to come to her rooms when she was dismissed for the night, and write a letter for her that she wished to send to a Magnagrecian acquaintance. The maid-of-honour, who had been looking weary and dispirited, brightened up at once, and presented herself in the Princess’s sitting-room with shining eyes, which lost their light, however, after a hasty glance round.

“No, he is not here this evening,” said the Princess, with a sympathetic smile. “We must be prudent, you know. It would not take much to make my daughter-in-law send you back to Magnagrecia, and then you might never see him again.”

The girl acquiesced silently, though the tears had started to her eyes. The Princess laid her hand kindly on hers. “It has been a hard day, I am afraid?” she asked.

“Oh, so hard!” breathed Donna Olimpia, with difficulty. “My Princess was so exacting. She kept me close to her the whole time—always wanting me to hand her things, or tell her which the boats were. And he—he was at Princess Zoe’s side all day, talking and laughing—and looking at her as he does at me.”

The Princess restrained a smile at the simplicity of the passionate girl who expected Prince Romanos to keep the expressive glances of his fine eyes for her alone, but she made no comment. “This is what I feared,” she said. “Political necessities, you know——”

“He promised he would make her refuse him.”

“She has not refused him. I happen to know that.”

Donna Olimpia turned so white that even the hard-hearted plotter before her was frightened, and added hastily, “I don’t mean that she has accepted him. He has not proposed. His father arrived and interrupted their conversation.”

“If she had, I would have killed her—and him,” muttered the girl, looking so like a beautiful fury that for a second time the Princess was dismayed by the strength of the storm which she had fanned for her own purposes. This all-important instrument needed supremely dexterous handling, and she drew away from her a little.

“I hardly know whether to go on with what I was going to tell you,” she said. “I thought you would be anxious to protect Prince Romanos from the consequences of his own indiscretion, but perhaps you would rather leave him to his punishment.”

“He is in danger from the other Englishman? But this is foolishness! She has not encouraged him—even I can see that.”

“I don’t understand. The danger has nothing to do with Princess Zoe or any Englishman. It is political.”

“Ah, he is so daring, so rash! What has he done?”

“It is what he proposes to do.” The Princess was encouraged by the softness of Donna Olimpia’s voice. “He means to throw himself into the midst of the Emathian insurgents, and lead them against the Roumis. That sounds a very fine thing to do,” with some irritation, as the girl’s eyes lighted up, “but you don’t seem to see that it means almost certain death to him, and in any case ruin to his hope of obtaining a throne.”

“For his possible throne I care nothing!” cried Donna Olimpia; “but his life—that is different. He shall not destroy himself!”

“So I thought you would say. Well, my plan was that we must manage—you and I—to keep him back, and induce Prince and Princess Theophanis to take this mad step in his place.”

The girl laughed gleefully. “And so relieve him of his opponent as well!” she said.

“Exactly. But we must work very carefully. Prince Romanos is waiting for some signal before he starts. Either he expects messengers of his own, or—which I think is more likely—he is bribing the messengers of Professor Panagiotis. It must be your business to discover when he receives the signal. He must promise not to start without bidding you farewell, and must tell you as long before he goes as possible.”

“Yes, I can manage that.”

“Then I will manage the rest. He must be detained, and the Theophanis party must be warned of his intention, and hasten to anticipate it. They will be in Emathia before they discover their mistake, and then they cannot retreat. He will be safe, and ought to be grateful, though I cannot say that he will obtain his throne even then. He may have involved himself too far in this foolish plot. But your love for him does not depend on a throne?”

“I hate the very thought of it! It is that alone that made him pay attention to Princess Zoe: he has told me so. But for his imperial descent and his great future, he would marry me to-morrow.”

“I see. Some women would prefer the lover to succeed, even at the cost of their happiness,” said the Princess drily.

“Ah, I am not like that. A throne which he could share with me—yes; but a throne for him without me—no,” was the frank reply. “Not that I wish Princess Theophanis to put her husband on the throne. That is a woman of the most absolute heartlessness. All these troubles are due to her.”

“Why, how is that?” asked the Princess, rather startled.

“It was before you came, madame. She wished Princess Zoe to marry the Englishman, Lord Armitage. I knew it; I saw her schemes. Then came he—Romanos—and she changes her mind, and will have him and no other as brother-in-law. All the pleasant opportunities are now for him, and the poor snubbed Englishman scowls in the background. Ah, madame, I entreat you, punish Princess Eirene, and do it through Lord Armitage! She deserves it, and he—it will be some satisfaction for him.”

“Your methods are forcible, but crude.” The Princess spoke with the air of a connoisseur. “But leave it to me. I think I see what to do.”

CHAPTER VI.
THE RED GODS CALL.

“Are you in a tremendous hurry? Could you spare me a minute or two?” Armitage rose from the seat in the orange walk and intercepted Zoe on her way to the terrace.

“Oh yes. I was only going to wait for Princess Emilia. Is anything the matter?”

“Oh, nothing much. Only that I want to tell you something, and after that—well, I suppose I shan’t trouble you again.”

“You mustn’t be so doleful,” said Zoe, in her elder-sisterly way. “If there is anything wrong, you know that every one of us would do all we could to help you. It’s nothing about the yacht, is it? She hasn’t gone on shore?”

“No!” he burst out with great vehemence. “What do I care about the yacht, except to help your brother with? It’s you—and that Christodoridi chap.”

“Really,” said Zoe, half laughing, half angry, “I shall have to be rude to that young man in public, if he persists in worrying me as he does. Maurice thought fit to ask me this morning why I always had him hanging about, and now you! The general opinion of my taste must be painfully low.”

“No one imagines you could like a theatrical fool like that,” said Armitage, somewhat comforted; “but for political reasons, you know. The Professor—and your sister——”

“Neither the Professor nor Eirene will ever make me accept any one for political reasons, though they are quite likely to try. I should have thought you knew me better than to think so.” It did not occur to Zoe that the kindly reproach in her voice was dangerous, for Armitage had been a silent adorer for so long that she had learnt to regard him as that most pleasant and useful possession—a safe friend. But he interrupted her now, his eager, boyish voice full of feeling.

“You don’t see. It’s just because I know what you are—know how a good woman loves to sacrifice herself for other people. And that fellow could never make you happy.”

“No, he certainly could not. But don’t be afraid, he doesn’t want to try. As far as I can tell, he only haunts me because it makes him feel uncomfortable to find one woman who is proof against his fascinations.”

“The conceited brute!” cried Armitage explosively. “Let me deal with him, Princess. I promise you he won’t fancy himself so much when I’ve taken him in hand.”

“Probably not. But I am quite able to protect myself, thank you, and I have Maurice to appeal to.”

“Ah, but it wouldn’t look well for him to come to blows with his rival,” said Armitage, with unexpected shrewdness. “I don’t signify, you see. And if you would just give me the right, I could polish him off before starting, and you would be free from him while I was gone.”

“Starting! Why, where are you going?”

“Oh, that business over there,” jerking his head vaguely in the direction of Therma. “Will you? You can’t think how much easier it would make my mind.”

Zoe looked at him quizzically, still unaware of the gravity of the occasion. “What a boy you are!” she said, as she had often said before. “You really force me to ask you why you can’t pick a quarrel with him—not that I want you to,” hastily; “in fact, I forbid it—without a mandate from me.”

“Because I wouldn’t quarrel with a brute like that—especially about a lady. But if I could say to him, ‘Princess Zoe is engaged to me, and if I catch you bothering her any more, you had better look out——’ why, either he takes a back seat, or I kick him for a cad.”

“But I am not engaged to you,” said Zoe involuntarily.

“No, but I want you to be. I have cared for you an awfully long time, and you have always been frightfully good to me. I don’t bore you as much as some people, do I?—not as much as he does, at any rate? Couldn’t you think of it?”

“I really couldn’t.” Zoe was hardly able to regard this very unconventional proposal as serious, but she managed to speak without a smile. “I should need something more in a man than that he didn’t bore me—a good deal more. In fact, I should need so much that I shall never marry at all.”

“If you would only try me!” he pleaded. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to please you.”

“Except what you can’t do, and that is to grow up,” was on the tip of Zoe’s tongue, but she crushed it down nobly. “I am very sorry,” she said, with finality, “but it’s quite impossible. I have never given you any reason——”

“I know you haven’t.” His eagerness to justify her brought the tears to Zoe’s eyes. “It was all my fault. Only it seemed, you know, as if—— But I was a fool. You’ll let things be as they were before, won’t you, when I come back? Then I’ll go off with Wylie, and knock about a bit——”

“Colonel Wylie? Is he going too? What is it for?”

“Well, we aren’t exactly supposed—I oughtn’t to have——”

“You must tell me now. Where are you going?”

“I am to take Wylie round in the yacht to a place called Skandalo, from which you can get to Hagiamavra, where these Emathian fellows are establishing an insurgent stronghold. He goes as your brother’s representative, to see what can be done, and what chance there is of success. If there’s none, he might be able to get them to disband before the Roumis have time to move troops to attack them, but they seem pretty confident. Panagiotis had a message yesterday evening to say that they were ready, so we’re off to-night.”

“But is there danger?” gasped Zoe.

“Ought to be none. I wish there was any chance of it.”

“But after his fever. There is sure to be exposure——”

“Oh, for Wylie, you mean. It is still Wylie, then?”

“You have no right to say that——” began Zoe warmly, but her tone changed. “No, why should I be ashamed to confess it? It is, and it always will be.”

“Couldn’t be a better man,” said Armitage, with settled depression. “I always knew that if he was against me I hadn’t the ghost of a chance. But why I asked was, that I thought I might look after him a little for you—see that he didn’t do rash things, you know.”

“If you would!” murmured Zoe. “But you will never, never let him guess why you are doing it?”

“He’ll put me down as a disgusting meddler, I know, but I can stand it. You can feel he has a deputy guardian angel to look after him, as you can’t be there yourself.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” said Zoe, giving him her hand; “but I do thank you. Oh, there is Princess Emilia looking for me on the terrace! She must have come up the other way.”

She hurried up the steps, leaving Armitage to return mournfully to the solitude of the marble bench, and try to rearrange his outlook on life in view of the change the last half-hour had made in it. Presently a dark shadow paused on the pounded marble of the walk, and looking up, he found the Dowager Princess contemplating with some surprise the interloper who had taken possession of her favourite seat. He sprang up in confusion, and would have departed in haste, with many apologies, if she had not graciously desired him to sit down again. The invitation did not place him altogether at his ease, since he was well aware of the Princess’s diplomatic reputation; but fearing that she might intend to worm some of his friends’ secrets from him, he determined to be intensely careful, and if possible to go so far in Machiavellian astuteness as even to penetrate the designs of his interlocutor. He had an uncomfortable feeling that she had probably decided to attack him as the easiest of the party to pump, and he tried to con over hastily all the points on which caution was necessary. But there was nothing dangerously political about the Princess’s first remark, uttered with a sympathetic smile.

“I see you find this a soothing spot, Lord Armitage, as I do. I have brought many troubles here—many perplexities, too, in the days when I was my husband’s chief counsellor, and Dardania was threatened by enemies on every side. Mine has not been a very happy life, but at least I can look with satisfaction on the Dardania of to-day, the only contented state in the Balkans. Some of the credit ought to be given to this quiet seat. I hope it has proved helpful to you also?”

“Well, hardly. Perhaps I haven’t tried it long enough,” said Armitage, rather at a loss.

“You can see no light on your difficulties? And yet I fancy your Princess feels more kindly towards you than you think.”

Armitage started involuntarily. “She has confided in you, madame?” he asked, feeling his way.

“Not directly, but there are ways of judging. Only a person totally devoid of discrimination could imagine that she found pleasure in the attentions of Prince Romanos.”

“I know she hates the sight of him!” Armitage thought it safe to reply.

“And yet it is only too likely that she may be forced to marry him. Her ambitious sister-in-law——”

“Princess Theophanis can’t make her marry him against her will, madame.”

“It is not only the Princess; the force of circumstances may compel her. If her brother attains his object, she must make a marriage that will strengthen his position. The man may or may not be young Christodoridi, but it will certainly not be you.”

“No, I suppose not,” he murmured, less crushed than if he had not already heard the same hard truth from Zoe herself.

“But take courage. I have a foreboding—I do not think that Maurice Theophanis will ever be Prince of Emathia.”

“Do you mean that there’s a plot, madame?”

“Oh no, not a plot. I merely advise you not to lose hope. The matter came to my knowledge confidentially, so that I can hardly—— Still, you are not likely to betray me, so why should I not allow you the consolation of watching for the event which will ensure the fulfilment of your hopes?”

“I can’t promise not to make use of any warning you may give me, madame.” Armitage was more mystified than ever. The Princess laughed.

“If I thought you an honest, quixotic fool, Lord Armitage, should I tell you? Well, then, your Prince, with the prudence and caution so characteristic of him, proposes to send his follower, Colonel Wylie, to discover whether the Emathian insurrection is sufficiently widespread, well-supported—safe, in fact—to justify him in extending to it the patronage of his name. Prince Romanos, on the other hand, presents himself among the insurgents as one of themselves, asking only to be allowed to fight and die in their ranks. Which is likely to commend himself most to their favour?”

Armitage’s face was a study while she spoke. Amazement at the matter-of-course way in which Wylie’s secret mission was mentioned, followed by indignation at the slur thrown on Maurice, was again succeeded by surprise at her announcement of the intentions of Prince Romanos.

“You mean that Christodoridi will disappear from here to throw in his lot with the insurgents, madame?”

“At very nearly the same hour to-night as your Colonel Wylie, and for the same reason. They are both considerate enough to wish not to compromise my son, and therefore both will attend the farewell reception of the athletes, and then slip away quietly. Colonel Wylie may be a perfect paladin, but I think you may assure yourself that the man who goes among his future subjects in person is more likely to be chosen than the one who sends his servant.”

Armitage assented mechanically, while the Princess went on—

“Therefore, as I say, you may be cheerful. It is not likely to occur to Prince Theophanis to go to Hagiamavra himself, and you will not put it into his head. I am rather surprised that his wife has not insisted upon it already, but perhaps he has kept her in the dark. You must be most careful not to let her suspect anything to-day, for your face is eloquent of tremendous news. I can’t advise you too strongly not to say anything to her about Emathia or Hagiamavra, for she would guess at once that you were concealing something, and she has force of character enough to hurry her husband off this evening. But I need not tell you to be careful.”

She watched his face narrowly. The risk she had taken was great,—though she had calculated upon her reading of Armitage’s character,—but she saw she had succeeded. He might accept information from this intruder, but not advice. She smiled contentedly when he made the excuse of urgent business to take his departure. Even if he had not spent some minutes in conversation elaborately designed to divert her mind from the previous subject, she could have read in his disturbed expression the thoughts that were chasing each other through his brain:—“I must put her off the scent, mustn’t let her see that I believe it. After all, it mayn’t be true. Must see if there’s anything to confirm it before I tell anybody.”

That evening Wylie was busy in the room which was nominally a sanctum for Armitage and himself, but served in reality as a council-chamber when Eirene’s presence was not desired. He was dressed for the Prince of Dardania’s reception, but his luggage was ready packed, and his riding clothes were laid out in the bedroom adjoining. Presently Maurice came in, and his follower looked up from the money-belt he was filling, and nodded.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you are letting me prospect around a little before throwing yourself into this thing,” he said, when his calculations were over.

“My wife doesn’t like it at all,” returned Maurice gloomily. “She thinks I am letting slip a golden opportunity.”

“Let her think!” was the uncourteous reply. “If she hasn’t learnt yet that it’s safer to prove the statements of Panagiotis and his friends before acting on them, you and I have.”

“Maurice!” It was Eirene who stood before them, wrapped in a loose gown, and with her hair only partially dressed. “We must all start for Hagiamavra to-night. Romanos Christodoridi is going!”

“He can’t. He knows nothing about it,” said Wylie.

“There has been treachery. He has bribed some one. Lord Armitage heard the first rumour of it this morning, and has spent the day in discovering the truth. Prince Romanos has horses ready after the reception, and a fast sailing-boat waiting for him at Pentikosti. Lord Armitage came to look for you, Maurice, but you were not in your rooms, and I opened the letter and spoke to him. I have sent him now to get horses for us.”

“You sent him! Without telling me?”

“Yes.” Eirene’s voice was hard. “Because, if you will not go, I shall take Constantine and go by myself, with Colonel Wylie in attendance. I have thought it all out. You have loitered and delayed and preached prudence too long. I will not have my boy’s rights sacrificed through your precautions.”

“If you will allow me, sir, I will leave the room to the Princess and yourself,” said Wylie to Maurice, with marked respect. Eirene turned upon him.

“You will kindly remain,” she said. “I wish you to be a witness of what I say to the Prince. You understand me, Maurice? If you will act, I go as your wife; if you refuse, I go to assert my own claim. In either case Constantine’s rights are secured. They can only be lost through cowardice, and I, at least, am not a coward. I have the means of acting without you, you know.”

“I do know it, unfortunately. You have every advantage over me. Short of placing you under personal restraint, I can’t hope to influence you.”

“And that you would never do!” she said triumphantly.

“That I would not do. You are determined not to listen to reason?”

“I will listen to any argument in favour of starting to-night, to none for putting things off.”

“Very well, then. As you have guessed, I shall not allow my wife to start on this preposterous expedition by herself, to assert a claim which stands or falls with mine. We will go together, but the claim which will be put forward is not yours, but mine. Such rights as the boy has are derived from me—reinforced, if you like, by yours. You understand this?”

“I don’t mind what conditions you make, provided that you go,” she answered, with a laugh that was nervous in spite of her effort to make it merely light.

“Pardon me, sir. May I remind her Royal Highness of one or two things she seems to have forgotten?” asked Wylie. A nod gave him permission, and he went on, “Are you wise, ma’am, in risking the health, perhaps even the life, of your son in the way you propose? The journey to Pentikosti is a difficult one, even for men, and at Hagiamavra the hardships will be considerable. You can take no other woman with you, and no heavy luggage.”

“You have done your duty to your master by trying to frighten me,” she returned defiantly; “but I am not frightened.”

“And it does not occur to you that this expedition will irritate the Powers against his Highness to such an extent as to make him an impossible candidate in future?”

“Then Prince Romanos will be equally impossible. No, the Prince may go or not, as he likes, but I go. The horses will be ready at eleven o’clock, which will give us time to change our clothes after the reception, if we leave fairly early. I am sorry to keep you waiting now, Maurice. I shall be ready in ten minutes.”

“I suppose you are compassionating me as a henpecked wretch?” said Maurice bitterly, as Wylie closed the door after Eirene.

“If I advised you to take your wife by the shoulders and give her a good shaking, you would set me down as a brute, and I don’t know that it would do much good,” said Wylie.

“Not a bit. I always knew something of this kind was bound to happen. You see, there’s no question about my having robbed her of her rights, and I am bound to back her up in recovering them. I have never been able to satisfy her in that way yet, and of course she thinks me slack.”

“Why not offer to go yourself if she and the child will stay quietly here?”

“Quietly? What would she be doing here—can you say? You know the way in which that money was left——”

“I know; it’s rough on you every way. Makes a man glad to have escaped matrimony so far,” said Wylie. “But if I had to deal with that young woman, she would soon learn to behave herself!” was his self-sufficient mental remark, for which a speedy Nemesis was already lying in wait for him.

The night was very dark when, armed with a lantern, he awaited his fellow-travellers at a side door. In spite of the care taken not to compromise him, the Prince of Dardania was fully aware that something was going on, and had issued orders to his officials not to be too inquisitive with respect to any horsemen leaving the city. But it was not considered advisable to ride through the principal streets, and run the risk of encountering belated guests coming from the Palace, so that every possible advantage was to be taken of lanes and byways. Armitage, laden with saddle-bags and hold-alls till he could scarcely walk, came staggering through the doorway, whispering that the rest were close at hand; and presently Maurice appeared, with little Constantine, wrapped up like an infant mummy, in his arms, and two women close upon his heels. Wylie stepped forward with natural indignation.