'How characteristic of Herakleion,' cried Alexander Christopoulos, who had been anxiously searching for something noteworthy and contemptuous to say, 'that even with the help of a bomb we can achieve only a disaster that tinkles.' The Danish Excellency was heard to say tearfully,-- 'A robbery! a bomb! and practically in broad daylight! What a place, what a place!' 'Those Islands again, for certain!' Madame Delahaye exclaimed, with entire absence of tact; her husband, the French Military Attaché, frowned at her across the table; and the diplomatists all looked down their noses. Then the Englishman, seeing his opportunity, broke out,-- 'Very significant! all of a piece--anarchy--intrigue--no strong hand--free peoples. Too many, too many. Small nationalities. Chips! Cut-throats, all. So!'--he drew his fingers with an expressive sibilant sound across his own throat. 'Asking for trouble. Yugo-Slavs--bah! Poles--pfui! Eastern empire, that's the thing. Turks the only people'--the Albanian, fortunately innocent of English, was smiling amiably as he stirred his champagne--'great people. Armenians, wash-out. Quite right too. Herakleion, worst of all. Not even a chip. Only the chip of a chip.' 'And the Islands,' said the Danish Excellency brightly, 'want to be the chip of a chip of a chip.' 'Yes, yes,' said Madame Lafarge, who had been getting a little anxious, trying to provoke a laugh, 'Fru Thyregod has hit it as usual--_elle a trouvé le mot juste_,' she added, thinking that if she turned the conversation back into French it might check the Englishman's truncated eloquence. Out in the town, the quay was the centre of interest. A large crowd had collected there, noisy in the immense peace of the evening. Far, far out, a speck on the opal sea, could still be distinguished the little boat in which the three men, perpetrators of the outrage, had made good their escape. Beyond the little boat, even less distinct, the sea was dotted with tiny craft, the fleet of fishing-boats from the Islands. The green light gleamed at the end of the pier. On the quay, the crowd gesticulated, shouted, and pointed, as the water splashed under the ineffectual bullets from the carbines of the police. The Chief of Police was there, giving orders. The police motor-launch was to be got out immediately. The crowd set up a cheer; they did not know who the offenders were, but they would presently have the satisfaction of seeing them brought back in handcuffs. It was at this point that the entire Lafarge dinner-party debouched upon the quay, the women wrapped in their light cloaks, tremulous and excited, the men affecting an amused superiority. They were joined by the Chief of Police, and by the Christopoulos, father and son. It was generally known, though never openly referred to, that the principal interest in the casino was held by them, a fact which explained the saffron-faced little banker's present agitation.