"Do you know where he is now?" I asked. "No, my lord," they answered together, and with great emphasis. I cannot deny that something struck me as peculiar in their manner, but when I mentioned my impression to Denny, he scoffed at me. "You've been reading old Byron again," he said, scornfully. "Do you think they're corsairs?" Well, a man is not a fool simply because he reads Byron, and I maintained my opinion that the brothers were embarrassed at my questions. Moreover, I caught Spiro, the more truculent-looking of the pair, scowling at me more than once when he did not know I had my eye on him. These little mysteries, however, did nothing but add sauce to my delight as we sprang over the blue waters; and my joy was complete when, on the morning of the day I had appointed, the seventh of May, Denny cried "Land," and, looking over the starboard bow, I saw the cloud on the sea that was Neopalia. Day came bright and glorious, and as we drew nearer to our enchanted isle, we distinguished its features and conformation. The coast was rocky, save where a small harbor opened to the sea; and the rocks ran up from the coast, rising higher and higher, till they culminated in a quite respectable peak in the centre. The telescope showed cultivated ground and vineyards, mingled with woods, on the slopes of the mountain; and about half way up, sheltered on three sides, backed by thick woods, and commanding a splendid sea view, stood an old, gray, battlemented house. "There's my house!" I cried, in natural exultation, pointing with my finger. It was a moment in my life--a moment to mark. "Hurrah!" cried Denny, throwing up his hat in sympathy. Demetri was standing near, and met this ebullition with a grim smile. "I hope my lord will find the house comfortable," said he. "We shall soon make it comfortable," said Hogvardt. "I dare say it's half a ruin now." "It is good enough now for a Stefanopoulos," said the fellow, with a surly frown. The inference we were meant to draw was plain even to incivility.