“I am sorry, Tyrus, that I could not please you and your young friend by cutting the young Englishman’s throat. Had I known that was why you wished me to carry him off, I might have left him behind with the old fool who played that he had been killed, when we took good care to kill nothing save a horse. But now I am glad that we took the trouble, for one of my men tells me he is the son of an aristocrat and that the man we left behind is rich. It is well. A satisfactory ransom must be paid before the young Englishman is set at liberty. Thus through a friendly act I shall be able to turn an honest coin. Already I have dispatched a faithful fellow who bears a message to the other Englishman, stating that when I have received ten thousand drachmas I will set my captive free.”
“If you get it, you will not return empty-handed to your home,” said Tyrus.
“It was not of money I was thinking when I spoke thus,” asserted Donatus. “I am getting on in years. Long have I dreamed of an ideal who should make my home complete by sharing it with me. This day I saw her.”
“A woman?”
“The flower of Greece! I was thinking of her as I gazed into the fire.”
The hands of Maro suddenly closed and a wild light came into his eyes. He rose to his feet.
“Chief,” he said, boldly addressing the Suliote, “if we do not return to Athens ere another dawn, suspicion will fall on us. We must be going.”
“Would you depart so soon? Shall I send one of my men to conduct you and show you the way?”
“If you will.”
The brigand leader rose. There was a pantherish grace in every move, in spite of the fact that he was a large man. He spoke to one of the band, and the fellow sprang up.