Mitsos thought this over for some little time before he arrived at the best and most obvious solution, namely, to tell Nicholas everything. The taking of Tripoli could not be far off, and he knew that when that came near he would, for her greater safety, let others know the prize the town held for him, and a week or two sooner or later did not make much difference. So, not wishing to delay and risk a hot resolution, he put on his clothes again to go to Nicholas's quarters. He had just got outside his hut when he heard the voice of the sentry challenging some one without the camp, and "but for the grace of God," thought he, "there goes Mitsos."
"Who goes?" called the sentry again. "Speak, or I fire."
Mitsos did not hear the reply, but the sentry stood still, while a man clambered over the wall and spoke a few words to him. Standing in the shadow of his doorway not thirty yards off, Mitsos could see who both of them were, and recognized Poniropoulos and the burly Christos.
"Fifty pounds to say nothing of this," he heard Poniropoulos say.
There was a short silence, and Mitsos longed to hear the offer refused. But the greed of the country Greek was too strong.
"Fifty pounds?" answered Christos; "when do you pay me?"
"On the day Tripoli falls."
Again there was a pause, and Mitsos suddenly made up his mind to interfere, and he strode out of the shadow to where the two were standing. They stood asunder a few paces as he came up and took Christos by the arm.
"For the love of God say 'No,' Christos," he said. "Ask him first what his business was outside."
Poniropoulos came a step nearer.