“Effendi, I will do it,” he replied, with the air of one who has made a great sacrifice; “but I will be ruined—yes, ruined!” Justinian nodded curtly, and, turning on his heel, went towards the tunnel, followed by all. Maurice, of course, had not understood a word of the preceding conversation, conducted as it was in Greek; and even Crispin found the speech of Alcibiades a little difficult at times, as that piratical individual was in the habit of mixing up his own tongue with Turkish, French, Italian, and sometimes a scrap of English. “Crispin, walk with me—I wish to speak to you,” said Justinian; and, the poet having obeyed this command, Maurice was left in the congenial company of Alcibiades and the Count. Captain Alcibiades kept casting curious glances at Maurice, for Caliphronas had told him about this rich Englishman, and the agreeable old pirate was wondering, in his guileless way, if it would not be possible to kidnap this wealthy foreigner, and hold him in his own little rocky island until such time as his relatives paid a good ransom. Alcibiades was a genuine brigand of the type described by M. About, and, but that he had fallen on evil times of peace and quietness, would doubtless have risen to high rank in his adored profession. With a view to satisfying himself personally as to the wealth of this traveller, Alcibiades, guessing Maurice did not know Greek, spoke to him in French, with which Maurice was sufficiently well acquainted to enable him to hold an interesting conversation with this accomplished cut-throat. “Monsieur is staying here?” asked Alcibiades, blinking his little eyes. “For a time—yes!” “Aha! Monsieur is the friend of my dear Andros, so to myself he is also a dear friend. I lay myself at your feet, monsieur.” “Very kind of you,” retorted Maurice, who was not at all pleased by the implied friendship. “Monsieur is rich?” “What’s that to do with you?” “Eh, my faith! do not be angry, monsieur. All Englishmen are rich.” “That is a common delusion with you foreigners. All Englishmen are not rich.” Alcibiades shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands in the French fashion. “Monsieur is disposed to be witty.” By this time they had arrived at the entrance to the tunnel, and Justinian who had been in earnest conversation with Crispin, turned round sharply to Alcibiades. “You will wait here,” he said imperiously. “Will not my men come up in order to carry down the wine?” said Alcibiades, looking as black as thunder at this peremptory order. “No. I will send my men down with it, and you can pay the money to Andros here.” “But, Effendi”— “Enough! I have spoken!” “Holy St. Elmo! you will not let me visit your island?” “No farther than this,” retorted Justinian significantly. “You know the proverb, Captain Alcibiades,—‘Ill to him who shows his treasure freely.’”