However, events soon put an end to his hesitation. The decisive event--the hair which turned the scale--according to M. Venizelos himself, was supplied, appropriately enough, by a barber. One day, whilst the Leader of the Liberals wrestled with his soul, a friend called and reported to him a talk he had just had with his hairdresser, "a terrible Venizelist, who spoke thus: 'We here, simple folk, say that Venizelos bears a heavy responsibility: he tells us we are going to the dogs. Eh, well then, why doesn't he stop us?' This conversation shook me deeply. My friend gone, I said to myself: 'Indeed, this barber speaks wisely, and my hesitations to discharge my duty to the end must vanish, because they may possibly spring from purely egotistical motives. Sir, I said to myself, having laid up from many struggles and many successes {130} a capital above the average, you don't wish to risk it and think it better to sit quiet, choosing to enjoy the moral satisfaction of seeing the fulfilment of your prophecies rather than make an effort to prevent it.'" [14] It is always interesting to trace mighty events to trifling causes; and it would have been particularly pleasant to believe that the destinies of Greece for once literally stood "on a razor's edge." [15] But we will do M. Venizelos the credit of believing him less childish than he represents himself. There were weightier things "to shake" him into a decision. On 20 September, when, according to plan, he was due in Crete, the train laid there exploded. His friends had come down from the hills thirsting for the blood of Greek and Mohammedan victims: should the massacre they meditated take place, M. Venizelos would never leave Athens alive.[16] The news was of a nature to compel him at last to take the plunge; and in the small hours of 25 September, the National Leader stole out of Greece on a ship escorted by a French torpedo-boat. His flight had been organized by the French Secret Service like a carnival masquerade, on the painful details of which, says Admiral Dartige, it would be better not to dwell.[17] His advent in Crete had been so efficiently prepared by the British Secret Service and naval officers--without whom there would have been neither mutiny nor insurrection--that, on landing, M. Venizelos had nothing to do but instal himself in the best hotel at Canea and proclaim himself with his confederate Admiral Coundouriotis the Provisional Government.[18]