Justinian pondered a moment, and was about to reply, when, catching sight of the eager gleam in the Greek’s eyes, he altered his mind at once. “I will tell you when I know him better; I never make up my mind in a hurry. You ought to be aware of that by this time.” The other, ill-contented with this reticence, would have persisted in his questioning, but the old man, seeing this, shut him up sharply. “Be silent, Andros! I will give you my opinion in my own good time. Meanwhile, mind you treat my guests with all courtesy.” “Even Creespeen?” said Caliphronas, with a sneer. “Yes, even Crispin,” reiterated Justinian in a fiery tone. “I have my reasons for acting as I do now. If you dare to disobey my orders, I have a way to silence you.” Caliphronas turned pale, for he knew that Justinian was absolute ruler of Melnos, while he was thoroughly well hated by the inhabitants, one and all. “I have no intention of acting contrary to your desires,” he replied sulkily, rising to his feet; “but I cannot understand the meaning of your actions. However, I have done what you desired, and Mr. Maurice is in Melnos. Now, I presume, you will fulfil your part of the bargain.” “Certainly; you have my permission to pay your addresses to my daughter.” “And you will make her marry me?” asked Caliphronas eagerly. The King sprang from his seat with a gesture of anger. “I will force my daughter in no way!” he roared fiercely. “I forbade you to think of Helena as a bride, but, provided you brought Roylands here, I gave you permission to woo her. As to forcing her into a marriage with you, there was no question of such a thing.” “I thought there was,” retorted the Greek, who was white with rage. “You put your own base construction on my motives. How dare you question me, Andros! Am I master here, or are you? Helena is free to marry you if she wishes; but, as far as I am concerned, I would rather you were drowned in the sea than become my son-in-law.” The Count went alternately red and white as Justinian spoke, and when the speech was ended tried to answer, but his rage was such that he could say nothing, so, with a choking cry of anger, he turned on his heel and darted out of the court; while the King, much agitated, walked up and down hurriedly, his white robe sweeping the pavement. “What does the boy mean?” he muttered angrily. “I do not like these veiled threats. Melnos is well defended, but I mistrust Andros—he is too much a friend of that rascal Alcibiades. Bah! I have no fear—treachery for treachery!—and if Andros dares”—