CHAPTER XV
A STRANGE ESCAPE
Yes, Mouraki was dangerous, very dangerous: now that he had regainedhis self-control, most dangerous. His designs against me would belimited only by the bounds which I had taken the opportunity ofrecalling to his mind. I was a known man. I could not disappearwithout excuse. But the fever of the island might be at the disposalof the Governor no less than of Constantine Stefanopoulos. I mustavoid the infection. I congratulated myself that the best antidote Ihad yet found--a revolver and cartridges--was again in my possession.These, and open eyes, were the treatment for the sudden fatal diseasethat threatened inconvenient lives in Neopalia.
I thought that I had seen the Pasha safely and finally to bed when heleft me in the hall after our interview. I myself had gone to bedalmost immediately, and, tired out with the various emotions I hadpassed through, had slept soundly. But now, looking back, I wonderwhether the Governor spent much of the night on his back. I doubt it,very much I doubt it; nay, I incline to think that he had a veryactive night of goings to and fro, of strange meetings, of schemes andbargainings; and I fancy he had not been back in his room long beforeI rose for my morning walk. However of that I knew nothing at thetime, and I met him at breakfast, prepared to resume our discussion ashe had promised. But, behold, he was surrounded by officers. There wasa stir in the hall. Orders were being given; romance and the affairsof love seemed forgotten.
'My dear lord,' cried Mouraki, turning towards me with every sign ofdiscomposure and vexation on his face, 'I am terribly annoyed. Thesecareless fellows of mine--alas, I am too good-natured and they presumeon it!--have let your friend Constantine slip through their fingers.'
'Constantine escaped!' I exclaimed in genuine surprise and vexation.
'Alas, yes! The sentry fell asleep. It seems that the prisoner hadfriends, and they got him out by the window. The news came to me atdawn, and I have been having the island scoured for him; but he's notto be found, and we think he must have had a boat in readiness.'
'Have you looked in the cottage where his wife is?'
'The very first thought that struck me, my dear friend! Yes, it hasbeen searched. In vain! It is now so closely guarded that nobody canget in. If he ventures there we shall have him to a certainty. But goon with your breakfast; we needn't spoil that for you. I have one ortwo more orders to give.'
In obedience to the Pasha I sat down and began my breakfast; but as Iate, while Mouraki conferred with his officers in a corner of thehall, I became very thoughtful concerning this escape ofConstantine. Sentries do sleep--sometimes; zealous friends do openwindows--sometimes; fugitives do find boats ready--sometimes. It wasall possible: there was nothing even exactly improbable. Yet--yet--!Whether Mouraki's account were the whole truth, or something lay belowand unrevealed, at least I knew that the escape meant that anotherenemy, and a bitter one, was loosed against me. I had foughtConstantine, I had touched Mouraki's shield in challenge the nightbefore: was I to have them both against me? And would it be twoagainst one, or, as boys say, all against all? If the former, thechances of my catching the fever were considerably increased; andsomehow I had a presentiment that the former was nearer the truththan the latter. I had no real evidence. Mouraki's visible chagrinseemed to contradict my theory. But was not Mouraki's chagrin just alittle too visible? It was such a very obvious, hearty, genuine,honest, uncontrollable chagrin; it demanded belief in itself the leastbit too loudly.
The Pasha joined me over my cigarette. If Constantine were in theisland, said the Pasha, with a blow of his fist on the table, he wouldbe laid by the heels before evening came; not a mole--let alone aman--could escape the soldiers' search; not a bird could enter thecottage (he seemed to repeat this very often) unobserved, nor escapefrom it without a bullet in its plumage. And when Constantine wascaught he should pay for this defiance. For the Pasha had delayed thepunishment of his crimes too long. This insolent escape was a properpenalty on the Pasha's weak remissness. The Pasha blamed himself verymuch. His honour was directly engaged in the recapture; he would notsleep till it was accomplished. In a word, the Pasha's zeal beggaredcomparison and outran adequate description. It filled his mind; itdrove out last night's topic. He waved that trifle away; it must wait,for now there was business afoot. It could be discussed only whenConstantine was once more a prisoner in the hands of justice, asuppliant for the mercy of the Governor.
I escaped at length from the torrent of sincerity with which Mourakiinsisted on deluging me, and went into the open air. There were nosigns of Phroso. Kortes was not to be seen either. I saw the yacht inthe harbour, and thought of strolling down; but Denny had, no doubt,heard the great news, and I was reluctant to be out of the way, evenfor an hour. Events came quick in Neopalia. People appeared anddisappeared in no time, escaped and--were not recaptured. But I toldmyself that I would send a message to the yacht soon; for I wantedDenny and the others to know what I--what I was strangely inclined tosuspect regarding this occurrence.
The storm which had swept over the island the evening before was gone.It was a bright hot day; the waves danced blue in the sun, while alight breeze blew from off the side of the land on which the housestood and was carrying fishing-boats merrily out of the harbour. IfConstantine had found a boat, the wind was fair to carry him away tosafety. But had he? I glanced up at the cottage in the woods above me.A thought struck me. I could run up there and down again in a fewmoments.
I made my way quickly back to the house and into the compound behind.Here, to my delight, I found Kortes. A word shewed me that he hadheard the news. Phroso also had heard it. It was known to every one.
'I'm going to see if I can get a look into the cottage,' said I.
'I'm told it is guarded, my lord.'
'Kortes, speak plainly. What do you say about this affair?'
'I don't know; I don't know what to think. If they won't let you in--'
'Yes, I meant that. How is she, Kortes?'
'Well, my sister says. I haven't seen her. Run no risks, my lord. Shehas only you and me.'
'And my friends. I'm going to send them word to be on the look-out forany summons from me.'
'Then send it at once,' he counselled. 'You may delay, Mouraki willnot.'
I was struck with his advice; but I was also bent on carrying out myreconnaissance of the cottage.
'I'll send it directly I come back,' said I, and I ran to the angle ofthe wall, climbed up, and started at a quick walk through the wood. Imet nobody till I was almost at the cottage. Then I came suddenly on asentry; another I saw to the right, a third to the left. The cottageseemed ringed round with watchful figures. The man barred my way.
'But I am going to see the lady--Madame Stefanopoulos,' I protested.
'I have orders to let nobody pass,' he answered. 'I will call theofficer.'
The officer came. He was full of infinite regrets, but hisExcellency's orders were absolute. Nay, did I not think they werewise? This man was so desperate a criminal, and he had so manyfriends. He would, of course, try to communicate with his wife.
'But he can't expect his wife to help him,' I exclaimed. 'He wanted tomurder her.'
'But women are forgiving. He might well persuade her to help him inhis escape; or he might intimidate her.'
'So I'm not to pass?'
'I'm afraid not, my lord. If his Excellency gives you a pass it willbe another matter.'
'The lady is there still?'
'Oh, I believe so. I have not myself been inside the cottage. That isnot part of my duty.'
'Is anyone stationed in the cottage?'
The officer smiled and answered, with an apologetic shrug, 'Would notyou ask his Excellency anything you desire to know, my lord?'
'Well, I daresay you're right,' I admitted, and I fixed a long glanceon the windows of the cottage.
'Even to allow anybody to linger about here is contrary to my orders,'suggested the officer, still civil, still apologetic.
'Even to look?'
'His Excellency said to ling
er.'
'Is it the same thing?'
'His Excellency would answer that also, my lord.'
The barrier round the place was impregnable. That seemed plain. Toloiter near the cottage was forbidden, to look at it a matter ofsuspicion. Yet looking at the cottage would not help the escape ofConstantine.
There seemed nothing to be done. Slowly and reluctantly, with aconviction that I was turning away baffled from the heart of themystery, that the clue lay there were I but allowed to take it in myfingers, I retraced my steps down the hill through the wood. Ibelieved that the strict guard was to prevent my intrusion and minealone; that the Pasha's search for Constantine was a pretence; infine, that Constantine was at that moment in the cottage, with theknowledge of Mouraki and under his protection. But I could not provemy suspicions, and I could not unravel the plan which the Pasha waspursuing. I had a strange uneasy sense of fighting in the dark. Myeyes were blindfolded, while my antagonist could make full use of his.In that case the odds were against me.
I passed through the house. All was quiet, nobody was about. It wasnow the middle of the afternoon, and, having accomplished my uselessinspection of the cottage, I sat down and wrote a note to Denny,bidding him be on the alert day and night. He or Hogvardt must alwaysbe on watch, the yacht ready to start at a moment's notice. I beggedhim to ask no questions, only to be ready; for life or death mighthang on a moment. Thus I paved the way for carrying out my resolution;and my resolution was no other than to make a bold dash for the yachtwith Phroso and Kortes, under cover of night. If we reached it and gotclear of the harbour, I believed that we could show a clean pair ofheels to the gunboat. Moreover I did not think that the wary Mourakiwould dare to sink us in open sea with his guns. The one point I heldagainst him was his fear of publicity. We should be safer in the yachtthan among the hidden dangers of Neopalia. I finished my note, sealedit, and strolled out in front of the house, looking for somebody toact as my messenger.
Standing there, I raised my eyes and looked down to the harbour andthe sea. At what I saw, forgetting Kortes's reproof, I again utteredan oath of surprise and dismay. Smoke poured from the funnel of theyacht. See, she moved! She made for the mouth of the harbour. She sether course for the sea. Where was she going? I did not care to answerthat. She must not go. It was vital that she should stay ready for meby the jetty. My scruples about leaving the house vanished before thismore pressing necessity. Without an instant's delay, with hardly aninstant's thought, I put my best foot foremost and ran, as a man runsfor his life, along the road towards the town. As I started I thoughtI heard Mouraki's voice from the window above my head beginning in itspolite wondering tones, 'Why in the world, my dear Wheatley--?' Ah,did he not know why? I would not stop for him. On I went. I reachedthe main road. I darted down the steep street. Women started insurprise at me, children scurried hastily out of my way. I was a veryJohn Gilpin without a horse. I did not think myself able to run so faror so fast; but apprehension gave me legs, excitement breath, andlove--yes, love--why deny it now?--love speed; I neither halted norturned nor failed till I reached the jetty. But there I sankexhausted against the wooden fencing, for the yacht was hard on a mileout to sea and putting yards and yards between herself and me at everymoment. Again I sprang up and waved my handkerchief. Two or three ofMouraki's soldiers who were lounging about stared at me stolidly; afisherman laughed mockingly; the children had flocked after me downthe street and made a gaping circle round me. The note to Denny was inmy hand. Denny was far out of my reach. What possessed the boy? Hardwere the names that I called myself for having neglected Kortes'sadvice. What were the cottage and the whereabouts of Constantinecompared with the presence of my friends and the yacht?
A hope ran through me. Perhaps they were only passing an hour andwould turn homewards soon. I strained my eager eyes after them. Theyacht held on her course, straight, swift, relentless. She seemed tobe carrying with her Phroso's hopes of rescue, mine of safety; herbuoyant leap embodied Mouraki's triumph. I turned from watching, sickat heart, half-beaten and discouraged; and, as I turned, a boy ran upto me and thrust a letter into my hand, saying:
'The gentleman on the yacht left this for my lord. I was about tocarry it up when I saw my lord run through the street, and I followedhim back.'
The letter bore Denny's handwriting. I tore it open with eagerfingers.
'Dear Charley,' it ran, 'I don't know what your game is, but it's pretty slow for us. So we're off fishing. Old Mouraki has been uncommon civil, and sent a fellow with us to show us the best place. If the weather is decent we shall stay out a couple of nights, so you may look for us the day after to-morrow. I knew it was no good asking you to come. Be a good boy, and don't get into mischief while I'm away. Of course Mouraki will bottle Constantine again in no time. He told us he had no doubt of it, unless the fellow had found a boat. I'll run up to the house, as soon as we get back. Yours ever, D.
P. S.--As you said you didn't want Watkins up at the house, I've taken him along to cook.'
_Beati innocentes!_ Denny was very innocent, and so, I suppose, veryblessed; and my friend the Pasha had got rid of him in the easiestmanner possible. Indeed it was 'uncommon civil' of Mouraki! They wouldbe back the day after to-morrow, and Denny would 'run up to thehouse.' The thing was almost ludicrous in the pitiful unconsciousnessof it. I tore the note that I had written into small pieces, putDenny's in my pocket, and started to mount the hill again. But Iturned once and looked on the face of the sea. To my anxious mind itseemed not to smile at me as was its wont. It was not now my refugeand my safety, but the prison-bars that confined me--me and her whom Ihad to serve and save.
And he had taken Watkins along to cook; for I did not want him at thehouse! I would have given every farthing I had in the world for anyhonest brave man, Watkins or another. And I was not to 'get intomischief.' I knew very well what Denny meant by that. Well, he mightbe reassured. It did not appear likely that I should enjoy muchleisure for dalliance of the sort he blamed.
'Really, you know, I shall have something else to do,' I said tomyself.
Slowly I walked up the hill, too deep in reflection even to hasten mysteps; and I started like a man roused from sleep when I heard, fromthe side of the street, a soft cry of 'My lord!' I looked round. I wasdirectly opposite the door of Vlacho's inn. On the the threshold stoodthe girl Panayiota, who was Demetri's sweetheart, and had held in herlap the head of Constantine's wife whom Demetri could not kill. Shecast cautious glances up and down the street, and withdrew swiftlyinto the shadow of the house, beckoning to me to follow her. In astrait like mine no chance, however small, is to be missed or refused.I followed her. Her cheek glowed with colour; she was under theinfluence of some excitement whose cause I could not fathom.
'I have a message for you, my lord,' she whispered. 'I must tell ityou quickly. We must not be seen.' She shrank back farther into theshelter of the doorway.
'As quickly as you like, Panayiota,' said I. 'I have little time tolose.'
'You have a friend more than you know of,' said she, setting her lipsclose to my ear.
'I'm glad to hear it,' said I. 'Is that all?'
'Yes, that's all--a friend more than you know of, my lord. Takecourage, my lord.'
I bent my eyes on her face in question. She understood that I wasasking for a plainer message.
'I can tell you no more,' she said. 'I was told to say that--a friendmore than you know of. I have said it. Don't linger, my lord. I cansay no more, and there is danger.'
'I'm much obliged to you. I hope he will prove of value.'
'He will,' she replied quickly, and she waved aside the piece ofmoney which I had offered her, and motioned me to be gone. But againshe detained me for a moment.
'The lady--the wife of the Lord Constantine--what of her?' she askedin low hurried tones.
'I know nothing of her,' said I. 'I believe she's at the cottage.'
'And he's loose again?'
'Yes.' And I added,
searching her face, 'But the Governor will hunthim down.'
I had my answer: a plain explicit answer. It came not in words, but ina scornful smile, a lift of the brows, a shrug. I nodded inunderstanding. Panayiota whispered again, 'Courage--a friend more thanyou know of--courage, my lord,' and, turning, fairly ran away from medown the passage towards the yard behind the inn.
Who was this friend? By what means did he seek to help me? I could nottell. One suspicion I had, and I fought a little fight with myself asI walked back to the house. I recollected the armed man I had met inthe night, whom I had rebuked and threatened. Was he the friend, andwas it my duty to tell Mouraki of my suspicions? I say I had astruggle. Did I win or lose? I do not know; for even now I cannot makeup my mind. But I was exasperated at the trick Mouraki had played onme, I was fearful for Phroso, I felt that I was contending against aman who would laugh at the chivalry which warned him. I hardened myheart and shut my eyes. I owed nothing, less than nothing, to MourakiPasha. He had, as I verily believed, loosed a desperate treacherousfoe on me. He had, as I knew now, deluded my friends into forsakingme. Let him guard his own head and his own skin. I had enough to dowith Phroso and myself. So I reasoned, seeking to justify my silence.I have often since thought that the question raised a nice enoughpoint of casuistry. Men who have nothing else to do may amusethemselves with the answering of it. I answered it by the time Ireached the threshold of the house. And I held my tongue.
Mouraki was waiting for me in the doorway. He was smiling as he hadsmiled before my bold declaration of love for Phroso had spoilt histemper.
'My dear lord,' he cried, 'I could have spared you a tiresome walk. Ithought your friends would certainly have told you of their intention,or I would have mentioned it myself.'
'My dear Pasha,' I rejoined, no less cordially, 'to tell the truth, Iknew their intention, but it struck me suddenly that I would go withthem, and I ran down to try and catch them. Unfortunately I was toolate.'
The extravagance of my lying served its turn; Mouraki understood, notthat I was trying to deceive him, but that I was informing himpolitely that he had not succeeded in deceiving me.
'You wished to accompany them?' he asked, with a broadening smile.'You--a lover!'
'A man can't always be making love,' said I carelessly--though trulyenough.
Mouraki took a step toward me.
'It is safer not to do it at all,' said he in a lower tone.
The man had a great gift of expression. His eyes could put a world ofmeaning into a few simple words. In this little sentence, whichsounded like a trite remark, I discovered a last offer, an invitationto surrender, a threat in case of obstinacy. I answered it after itsown kind.'
'Safer, perhaps, but deplorably dull,' said I.
'Ah, well, you know best,' remarked the Pasha. 'If you like to takethe rough with the smooth--' He broke off with a shrug, resuming amoment later. 'You expect to see them back the day after to-morrow,don't you?'
I was not sure whether the particular form of this question wasintentional or not. In the literal meaning of his words Mouraki askedme, not whether they would be back, but whether I thought I shouldwitness their return--possibly a different thing.
'Denny says they'll be back then,' I answered cautiously. The Pashastroked his beard. This time he was, I think, hiding a smile at myunderstanding and evasion of his question.
'I hear,' he observed with a laugh, 'that you have been trying to passmy sentries and look for our runaway on your own account. You reallyshouldn't expose yourself to such risks. The man might kill you. I'mglad my officer obeyed his orders.'
'Then Constantine is at the cottage?' I cried quickly, for I thoughthe had betrayed himself into an admission. His composed air and amusedsmile smothered my hopes.
'At the cottage? Oh, dear, no. Of course I have searched that. I hadthat searched first of all.'
'And the guard--'
'Is only to prevent him from going there.'
I had not that perfect facial control which distinguished theGovernor. I suppose I appeared unconvinced, for Mouraki caught me bythe arm, and, giving me an affectionate squeeze, cried, 'What anunbeliever! Come, you shall go with me and see for yourself.'
If he took me, of course I should find nothing. The bird, if it hadever alighted on that stone, would be flown by now. His specious offerwas worthless.
'My dear Pasha, of course I take your word for it.'
'No, I won't be trusted! I positively won't be believed! You shallcome. We two will go together.' And he still clung to my arm with thepressure of friendly compulsion.
I did not see how to avoid doing what he suggested without coming toan open quarrel with him, and that I did not desire. He had everymotive for wishing to force me into open enmity; a hasty word orgesture might serve him as a plausible excuse for putting me underarrest. He would have a case if he could prove me to have beendisrespectful to the Governor. My only chance lay in seemingsubmission up to the last possible moment. And Kortes was guardingPhroso, so that I could go without uneasiness.
'Well, let's walk up the hill then,' said I carelessly. 'Though Iassure you you're giving yourself needless trouble.'
He would not listen, and we turned, still arm-in-arm, to pass throughthe house. Mouraki had caused a ladder to be placed against the bankof rock, for he did not enjoy clambering up by the steps cut in theside of it. He set his foot now on the lowest rung of this ladder; buthe paused there an instant and turned round, facing me, and asked, asthough the thought had suddenly occurred to his mind:
'Have you had any conversation with our fair friend this afternoon?'
'The Lady Phroso? No. She has not made an appearance. Perhaps I wrongyou, Pasha, but I fancied you were not over-anxious that I should havea conversation with her.'
'You wrong me,' he said earnestly. 'Indeed you wrong me. To prove it,you shall have a _tete-a-tete_ with her the moment we return. Oh, Idon't fight with weapons like that! I wouldn't use my authority likethat. I am going to search again for this Constantine myself thisevening with a strong party; then you shall be at perfect liberty totalk with her.'
'I'm infinitely obliged; you're too generous.'
'I trust we're gentlemen still, though unhappily we have becomerivals,' and he let go of the ladder for an instant in order to pressmy hand.
Then he began to climb up and I followed him, asking of my puzzledbrain, 'Now, what does he mean by that?'
For it seemed to me that a man needed cat's eyes to follow the schemesof Mouraki Pasha, eyes that darkness could not blind. This lastgenerous offer of his was beyond the piercing of my vision. I did notknow whether it were merely a bit of courtesy, safe to offer, or if ithid some new design. Well, it was little use wondering. At least Ishould see Phroso. Perhaps--a sudden thought seized me, and I--.
'What makes you look so excited?' asked the Pasha. His eyes were on myface, his lips curved in a smile.
'I'm not excited,' said I. But the blood was leaping in my veins. Ihad an idea.