‘Then you are not the first Englishman who has been here. Seventy years ago there came an Englishman here, a daring man, a lover of our people, and a friend of the great Byron. Orestes Stefanopoulos, who ruled here then, loved him very much, and brought him here, and showed him the path and the water under it. And he, the Englishman, came next day with a rope, and fixed the rope at the top, and let himself down. Somehow, I do not know how, he came safe out to the sea, past the rocks and the rapids. But, alas, he boasted of it! Then, when the thing became known, all the family came to Orestes and asked him what he had done. And he said: ‘“Sup with me this night, and I will tell you.” For he saw that what he had done was known. ‘So they all supped together, and Orestes told them what he had done, and how he did it for love of the Englishman. They said nothing, but looked sad; for they loved Orestes. But he did not wait for them to kill him, as they were bound to do; but he took a great flagon of wine, and poured into it the contents of a small flask. And his kindred said: “Well done, Lord Orestes!” And they all rose to their feet, and drank to him. And he drained the flagon to their good fortune, and went and lay down on his bed, and turned his face to the wall and died.’ I paid less attention to this new episode in the family history of the Stefanopouloi than it perhaps deserved: my thoughts were with the Englishman, not with his too generous friend. Yet the thing was handsomely done--on both sides handsomely done. ‘If the Englishman got out!’ I cried, gazing at Phroso’s face. ‘Yes, I mean that,’ said she simply. ‘But it must be dangerous.’ ‘It’s not exactly safe where we are,’ I said, smiling; ‘and Constantine will be guarding the proper path. By Jove, we’ll try it!’ ‘But I must come with you; for if you go that way and escape, Constantine will kill me.’ ‘You’ve just as good a right to kill Constantine.’ ‘Still he will kill me. You’ll take me with you?’ ‘To be sure I will,’ said I. Now when a man pledges his word, he ought, to my thinking, to look straight and honestly in the eyes of the woman to whom he is promising. Yet I did not look into Phroso’s eyes, but stared awkwardly over her head at the walls of rock. Then, without any more words, we turned back and went towards the secret door. But I stopped at Spiro’s body, and said to Phroso: ‘Will you send Denny to me?’ She went, and when Denny came we took Spiro’s body and carried it to where the walls bayed, and we flung it down into the dark water below. And I told Denny of the Englishman who had come alive through the perils of the hidden chasm. He listened with eager attention, nodding his head at every point of the story. [Illustration: WE TOOK SPIRO’S BODY AND FLUNG IT DOWN.] ‘There lies our road, Denny,’ said I, pointing with my finger. ‘We’ll go along it to-night.’ Denny looked down, shook his head and smiled. ‘And the girl?’ he asked suddenly.