‘Yes, with my sister’s help. Will you tell Mouraki first?’ ‘No--her first. She may refuse.’ ‘She loathes him too much to refuse anything.’ ‘Good. When, then?’ ‘To-night. She will leave him soon.’ ‘But he watches her to her room.’ ‘Yes; but you, my lord, know that there is another way.’ ‘Yes, yes; by the roof. The ladder?’ ‘It shall be there for you in an hour.’ ‘And you, Kortes?’ ‘I’ll wait at the foot of it. The Pasha himself should not mount it alive.’ ‘Kortes, it is trusting me much.’ ‘I know, my lord. If you were not a man to be trusted you would do what you are going to pretend.’ ‘I hope you’re right. Kortes, it sets me aflame now to be near her.’ ‘Can’t I understand that, my lord?’ said he, with a sad smile. ‘By heaven, you’re a good fellow!’ ‘I am a servant of the Stefanopouloi.’ ‘Your sister will tell her before I come? I couldn’t tell her myself.’ ‘Yes; she shall be told before you come.’ ‘In an hour, then?’ ‘Yes.’ And without another word, he strode by me. I caught his hand as he went, and pressed it. Then I was alone in the darkness again, but with a plan in my head and a weapon in my hand, and no more empty useless cursings in my mouth. Busily rehearsing the part I was to play, I resumed my quick pacing. It was a hard part, but a good part. I would match Mouraki with his own weapons; my cynicism should beat his, my indifference to the claims of honour overtop his shameless use of terror or of force. The smiles should now be not all the Pasha’s. I would have a smile too, one that would, I trusted, compel a scowl even from his smooth inscrutable face. I was walking quickly; on a sudden I came almost in contact with a man, who leapt on one side to avoid me. ‘Who’s there?’ I cried, standing on my defence, as I had learnt was wise in Neopalia. ‘It is I, Demetri,’ answered a sullen voice. ‘What are you doing here, Demetri? And with your gun!’ ‘I walk by night, like my lord.’ ‘Your walks by night have had a meaning before now.’ ‘They mean no harm to you now.’ ‘Harm to any one?’ A pause followed before his gruff voice answered: ‘Harm to nobody. What harm can be done when my gracious lord the Governor is on the island and watches over it?’ ‘True, Demetri. He has small mercy for wrongdoers and turbulent fellows such as some I know of.’ ‘I know him as well as you, my lord, and better,’ said the fellow. His voice was charged with a passionate hate. ‘Yes, there are many in Neopalia who know Mouraki.’ ‘So says Mouraki; and he says it as though it pleased him.’ ‘One day he shall have proof enough to satisfy him,’ growled Demetri. The savage rage of the fellow’s tone had caught my attention, and I gazed intently into his face; not even the darkness quite hid the angry gleam of his deep-set eyes. ‘Demetri, Demetri,’ said I, ‘aren’t you on a dangerous path? I see a long knife in your belt there, and that gun--isn’t it loaded? Come, go back to your home.’