With a great effort he forced himself to speak in English first, fluent enough but elementary, and then in a rush of French, the language of all Europe, and one with which the cosmopolitan Greek is ever at home. The captain gave an order. His men dismounted and tied up the horses. Then, taking the conduct of the affair into his own hands at once, he spoke to Ionides with a snarling contempt and brutality that he would hardly have used to a strolling street dog. "The English gentleman has come to ask you some questions, dog. See to it that you give a true answer and speedy. For, if not, there are many ways to make you. I have the warrant of his Excellency the Governor to do as I please with you and yours." The Greek made an inarticulate noise. He raised one long-fingered, delicate hand to his throat. Spence, as he watched, could not help a feeling of pity. The whole attitude of the man was inexpressibly painful in its sheer terror. His face had become a white wedge of fear. The officer spoke again. "You will take the English pasha into a private room," he said sternly, "where he will ask you all he wishes. I shall post two of my men at the door. Take heed that they do not have to summon me. And meanwhile bring out food and entertainment for me and my soldiers." He clapped his hands and the women of the house, who were peering round the end of the verandah, ran to bring pilaff and tobacco. Spence, with two soldiers, closely following the swaying, tottering figure of Ionides, went into a cool chamber opening on to the little central courtyard round which the house was built. It was a bare room, with a low bench or ottoman here and there. But, on the walls, oddly incongruous in such a setting, were some framed photographs. Hands, in a white linen suit and a wide Panama hat, was there; there was a photograph of the museum at Jerusalem, and a picture cut from an English illustrated paper of the Society's great excavations at Tell Sandahannah. It was odd, Spence thought gravely, that the man cared to keep these records of his life in Jerusalem, crowned as it was with such an act of treachery. He sat down on the ottoman. The Greek stood before him, cowering against the wall. It was a little difficult to know how he should begin; what was the best method to ensure a full confession. He lit a cigarette to help his thoughts. "What did Sir Robert Llwellyn give you?--how much?" he said suddenly. Again the look of ashen fear came over the Greek's face. He struggled with it before he spoke. "I am sorry that your meaning is not plain to me, sir. I do not know of whom you speak."