‘Very well indeed, Pasha. It was one of the first things I heard in Neopalia; it’s going to be one of the last, perhaps.’
‘That tune lends a great plausibility to my little fiction,’ said Mouraki.
‘It will no doubt be a very valuable confirmation of it,’ I rejoined.
The Pasha made no further remark for a moment. I looked past him and past the four soldiers—for the last had now joined his comrades—to Phroso. She was leaning against the cliff side; her head was thrown back and her face upturned, but her eyes were closed. I think she had swooned, or at least sunk into a half-unconscious state. Mouraki detected my glance.
‘Look at her well, use your time,’ he said in a savage tone. You’ve not long to enjoy the sight of her.’
‘I have as long as it may happen to please God,’ said I. ‘Neither you nor I know how long.’
‘I can make a guess,’ observed Mouraki, a quiet smile succeeding his frown.
‘Yes, you can make a guess.’
He stood looking at me a moment longer; then he turned away. As he passed the soldiers he spoke to them. I saw them smile. No doubt he had picked his men for this job and could rely on them.
The little bay in which we were was surrounded by steep and precipitous cliffs except in one place. Here there was a narrow cleft; the rocks did not rise abruptly; the ground sloped gradually upwards as it receded from the beach. Just on this spot of gently-rising ground Demetri sat, and the Pasha, having amused himself with me for as long as it pleased him, walked up to Demetri. The fellow sprang to his feet and saluted Mouraki with great respect. Mouraki beckoned to him to come nearer, and began to speak to him.