‘It’s Mouraki,’ whispered Phroso; at the time of danger her frightened eyes came back to mine, and she drew nearer to me. ‘It’s Mouraki, my lord.’ ‘I know it is,’ said I; ‘so much the better.’ ‘That seems probable,’ observed Mouraki. ‘But to enable whom to ascend and descend, friend Kortes?’ ‘Anyone who desires, my lord.’ ‘Then I will ascend,’ said Mouraki. ‘A thousand pardons, my lord!’ ‘Stand aside, sir. What, you dare--’ ‘Run back to your room,’ I whispered. ‘Quick. Good-night.’ I caught her hand and pressed it. She turned and disappeared swiftly through the door which gave access to the inside of the house and thence to her room; and I--glad that the interview had been interrupted, for I could have borne little more of it--walked to the battlements and looked over. Kortes stood like a wall between the astonished Mouraki and the ladder. ‘Kortes, Kortes,’I cried in a tone of grieved surprise, ‘is it possible that you don’t recognise his Excellency?’ ‘Why, Wheatley!’ cried Mouraki. ‘Who else should it be, my dear Pasha? Will you come up, or shall I come down and join you? Out of the way, Kortes.’ Kortes, who would not obey Mouraki, obeyed me. Mouraki seemed to hesitate about mounting. I solved the difficulty by descending rapidly. I was smiling, and I took the Pasha by the arm, saying with a laugh: [Illustration: “A THOUSAND PARDONS, MY LORD!”] ‘Caught that time, I’m afraid, eh? Well, I meant to tell you soon.’ I had certainly succeeded in astonishing Mouraki this time. Kortes added to his wonder by springing nimbly up the ladder, and pulling it up after him. ‘I thought you were in bed,’ said I. ‘And when the cat’s away the mice will play, you know. Well, we’re caught!’ ‘We?’ asked the Pasha. ‘Well, do you suppose I was alone? Is it the sort of night a man chooses to spend alone on a roof?’ ‘Who was with you then?’ he asked, suspicion alive in his crafty eyes. I took him by the arm and led him into the house, through the kitchen, till we reached the hall, when I said: ‘Am I not a man of taste? Who should it be?’ He sat down in the great armchair, and a heavy frown gathered on his brow. I cannot quite explain why, but I was radiant. The spirit of the game had entered into me; I forgot the reality that was so full of pain; I was as merry as though what I told him had been the happy truth, instead of a tantalising impossible vision. ‘Oh, don’t misunderstand me,’ I laughed, standing opposite to him, swaying on my feet, and burying my hands in my pockets. ‘Don’t wrong me, my dear Pasha. It’s all just as it should be. There’s nothing going on that should not go on under your Excellency’s roof. It is all on the most honourable footing.’ ‘I don’t understand your riddles or your mirth,’ said Mouraki.