I did not see how to avoid doing what he suggested without coming to an open quarrel with him, and that I did not desire. He had every motive for wishing to force me into open enmity; a hasty word or gesture might serve him as a plausible excuse for putting me under arrest. He would have a case if he could prove me to have been disrespectful to the Governor. My only chance lay in seeming submission up to the last possible moment. And Kortes was guarding Phroso, so that I could go without uneasiness. ‘Well, let’s walk up the hill then,’ said I carelessly. ‘Though I assure you you’re giving yourself needless trouble.’ He would not listen, and we turned, still arm-in-arm, to pass through the house. Mouraki had caused a ladder to be placed against the bank of rock, for he did not enjoy clambering up by the steps cut in the side of it. He set his foot now on the lowest rung of this ladder; but he paused there an instant and turned round, facing me, and asked, as though the thought had suddenly occurred to his mind: ‘Have you had any conversation with our fair friend this afternoon?’ ‘The Lady Phroso? No. She has not made an appearance. Perhaps I wrong you, Pasha, but I fancied you were not over-anxious that I should have a conversation with her.’ ‘You wrong me,’ he said earnestly. ‘Indeed you wrong me. To prove it, you shall have a _tête-à-tête_ with her the moment we return. Oh, I don’t fight with weapons like that! I wouldn’t use my authority like that. I am going to search again for this Constantine myself this evening with a strong party; then you shall be at perfect liberty to talk with her.’ ‘I’m infinitely obliged; you’re too generous.’ ‘I trust we’re gentlemen still, though unhappily we have become rivals,’ and he let go of the ladder for an instant in order to press my hand. Then he began to climb up and I followed him, asking of my puzzled brain, ‘Now, what does he mean by that?’ For it seemed to me that a man needed cat’s eyes to follow the schemes of Mouraki Pasha, eyes that darkness could not blind. This last generous offer of his was beyond the piercing of my vision. I did not know whether it were merely a bit of courtesy, safe to offer, or if it hid some new design. Well, it was little use wondering. At least I should see Phroso. Perhaps--a sudden thought seized me, and I--. ‘What makes you look so excited?’ asked the Pasha. His eyes were on my face, his lips curved in a smile. ‘I’m not excited,’ said I. But the blood was leaping in my veins. I had an idea. CHAPTER XVI AN UNFINISHED LETTER