"It was an accident," he cried sharply; the voice had lost its dreaminess and sounded clear now.
"We"ll see about that when we get Constantine and Vlacho before a judge," I retorted grimly. "Anyhow, he was foully stabbed in his own house for doing what he had a perfect right to do."
"He had no right to sell the island," cried the boy, and he rose for a moment to his feet with a proud air, only to sink back into the chair again and stretch out his hand for water.
Now at this moment Denny, refreshed by meat and drink and in the highest of spirits, bounded into the hall.
"How"s the prisoner?" he cried.
"Oh, he"s all right. There"s nothing the matter with him," I said, and as I spoke I moved the lantern, so that the boy"s face and figure were again in shadow.
"That"s all right," observed Denny cheerfully. "Because I thought, Charley, we might get a little information out of him."
"Perhaps he won"t speak," I suggested, casting a glance at the captive who sat now motionless in the chair.
"Oh, I think he will," said Denny confidently: and I observed for the first time that he held a very substantial-looking whip in his hand; he must have found it in the kitchen. "We"ll give the young ruffian a taste of this, if he"s obstinate," said Denny, and I cannot say that his tone witnessed any great desire that the boy should prove at once compliant.
I shifted my lantern so that I could see the proud young face, while Denny could not. The boy"s eyes met mine defiantly.
"Do you see that whip?" I asked. "Will you tell us all we want to know?"
The boy made no answer, but I saw trouble in his face, and his eyes did not meet mine so boldly now.
"We"ll soon find a tongue for him," said Denny, in cheerful barbarity; "upon my word, he richly deserves a thrashing. Say the word, Charley!"
"We haven"t asked him anything yet," said I.
"Oh, I"ll ask him something. Look here, who was the fellow with you and Vlacho?"
Denny spoke in English; I turned his question into Greek. But the prisoner"s eyes told me that he had understood before I spoke. I smiled again.
The boy was silent; defiance and fear struggled in the dark eyes.
"You see he"s an obstinate beggar," said Denny, as though he had observed all necessary forms and could now get to business; and he drew the lash of the whip through his fingers. I am afraid Denny was rather looking forward to executing justice with his own hands.
The boy rose again and stood facing that heartless young ruffian Denny--it was thus that I thought of Denny at the moment; then once again he sank back into his chair and covered his face with his hands.
"Well, I wouldn"t go out killing if I hadn"t more pluck than that,"
said Denny scornfully. "You"re not fit for the trade, my lad."
I did not interpret this time; there was no need; the boy certainly understood. But he had no retort. His face was buried in those slim hands of his. For a moment he was quite still: then he moved a little; it was a movement that spoke of helpless pain, and I heard something very like a stifled sob.
"Just leave us alone a little, Denny," said I. "He may tell me what he won"t tell you."
"Are you going to let him off?" demanded Denny, suspiciously. "You never can be stiff in the back, Charley."
"I must see if he won"t speak to me first," I pleaded, meekly.
"But if he won"t?" insisted Denny.
"If he won"t," said I, "and you still wish it, you may do what you like."
Denny sheered off to the kitchen, with an air that did not seek to conceal his opinion of my foolish tender-heartedness. Again I was alone with the boy.
"My friend is right," said I gravely. "You"re not fit for the trade.
How came you to be in it?"
My question brought a new look, as the boy"s hands dropped from his face.
"How came you," said I, "who ought to restrain these rascals, to be at their head? How came you, who ought to shun the society of men like Constantine Stefanopoulos and his tool Vlacho, to be working with them?"
I got no answer; only a frightened look appealed to me in the white glare of Hogvardt"s lantern. I came a step nearer and leant forward to ask my next question.
"Who are you? What"s your name?"
"My name--my name?" stammered the prisoner. "I won"t tell my name."
"You"ll tell me nothing? You heard what I promised my friend?"
"Yes, I heard," said the lad, with a face utterly pale, but with eyes that were again set in fierce determination.
I laughed a low laugh.
"I believe you are fit for the trade after all," said I, and I looked at him with mingled distaste and admiration. But I had my last weapon still, my last question. I turned the lantern full on his face, I leant forward again, and I said in distinct slow tones--and the question sounded an absurd one to be spoken in such an impressive way:
"Do you generally wear--clothes like that?"
I had got home with that question. The pallor vanished, the haughty eyes sank. I saw long drooping lashes and a burning flush, and the boy"s face once again sought his hands.
At that moment I heard chairs pushed back in the kitchen. In came Hogvardt with an amused smile on his broad face; in came Watkins with his impa.s.sive acquiescence in anything that his lordship might order; in came Master Denny brandishing his whip in jovial relentlessness.
"Well, has he told you anything?" cried Denny. It was plain that he hoped for the answer "No."
"I have asked him half-a-dozen questions," said I, "and he has not answered one."
"All right," said Denny, with wonderful emphasis.
Had I been wrong to extort this much punishment for my most inhospitable reception? Sometimes now I think that I was cruel. In that night much had occurred to breed viciousness in a man of the most equable temper. But the thing had now gone to the extreme limit to which it could go, and I said to Denny:
"It"s a gross case of obstinacy, of course, Denny, but I don"t see very well how we can horsewhip the lady."
A sudden astounded cry, "The lady!" rang from three pairs of lips, while the lady herself dropped her head on the table and fenced her face round about with her protecting arms.
"You see," said I, "this lady is the Lady Euphrosyne."
For who else could it be that would give orders to Constantine Stefanopoulos, and ask where "my people" were? Who else, I also asked myself, save the daughter of the n.o.ble house, would boast the air, the hands, the face, that graced our young prisoner? And who else would understand English? In all certainty here was the Lady Euphrosyne.