‘Ah, well, you know best,’ remarked the Pasha. ‘If you like to take the rough with the smooth—’ He broke off with a shrug, resuming a moment 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 was intentional or not. In the literal meaning of his words Mouraki asked me, not whether they would be back, but whether I thought I should witness their return—possibly a different thing.
‘Denny says they’ll be back then,’ I answered cautiously. The Pasha stroked his beard. This time he was, I think, hiding a smile at my understanding and evasion of his question.
‘I hear,’ he observed with a laugh, ‘that you have been trying to pass my sentries and look for our runaway on your own account. You really shouldn’t expose yourself to such risks. The man might kill you. I’m glad my officer obeyed his orders.’
‘Then Constantine is at the cottage?’ I cried quickly, for I thought he had betrayed himself into an admission. His composed air and amused smile smothered my hopes.
‘At the cottage? Oh, dear, no. Of course I have searched that. I had that searched first of all.’
‘And the guard—’
‘Is only to prevent him from going there.’
I had not that perfect facial control which distinguished the Governor. I suppose I appeared unconvinced, for Mouraki caught me by the arm, and, giving me an affectionate squeeze, cried, ‘What an unbeliever! Come, you shall go with me and see for yourself.’
If he took me, of course I should find nothing. The bird, if it had ever alighted on that stone, would be flown by now. His specious offer was worthless.