“Yes; I must admit they have changed, and for the better. What you told me the other day about Justinian desiring me for his successor has opened my eyes. It was a fear of losing me that made him refuse to tell me my real name, for he thought I would forsake him and go back to my kinsfolk.” “Well, you have certainly forsaken him.” “Yes; but I don’t think he regrets it, as he sees I am not made of the stuff necessary to rule this colony of serpents; so now he has no further reason to keep me in the dark, and will, I feel sure, tell me what I wish to know before we leave Melnos.” “But you said Justinian thought you were not brave enough.” “So he did! so he does! But I fancy I am indebted to my dear friend the Count for that. In all our expeditions with Alcibiades, Justinian was absent, so he could not have personally seen me fighting, and I can only think that Caliphronas, to oust me out of the possible throne, told this about me.” “I am sure you are not a coward,” said Maurice warmly. “No, I don’t think I am,” replied Crispin equably. “I fancy if Justinian had seen the storm he would have changed his opinion about Caliphronas; but, as to myself, I hope yet to right myself in the eyes of the old man. I am glad you have such a good opinion of me, Maurice.” “My dear fellow,” cried Roylands, grasping him by the hand, “I have the best possible opinion of you in every way, and always had!” “Even when I was a mystery?” “Yes; though I own you were puzzling at times. But you are a coward in one way, Crispin.” The poet flushed redly, and Maurice hastened to finish his sentence. “In the presence of Mrs. Dengelton.” “He would be a bold man who felt no fear in the presence of that lady,” answered Crispin, his face clearing again. “But here comes Caliphronas with a smiling face.” “A sign that Justinian has succeeded.” The Greek advanced towards them with a merry laugh, and looked triumphantly at Maurice, who bore his insolent self-complacency with wonderful composure. “I will not see you two gentlemen for a few days,” he said gayly. “I am going on a cruise with Alcibiades.” “More piracy?” “Perhaps,” answered Caliphronas mysteriously. “Good-by for the present. I must go down to look after the wine, and if you go back to the Acropolis, tell Helena I will see her before I go.” With a jeering look at Maurice the duped scoundrel sprang down the steps, his snowy fustanella fluttering in the breeze, and he glittered down the descent like a brilliant falling star. “You fool!” said a voice behind them, and they turned to behold Justinian with a complacent smile on his face. “Well, you have succeeded, sir,” observed Maurice doubtfully. “I have. Caliphronas thinks he has it all his own way. I see you don’t yet like my tactics.” “Well, sir”— “Tush!” replied Justinian coolly. “Punic foes—Punic faith!” CHAPTER XXII. THE APPLE OF DISCORD.