Silence.
"We know who you are. You are Mitsos Codones, the son of Constantine, from Nauplia, and he is your uncle."
Mitsos looked up.
"That is so. But I have not seen him for a year—more than a year," he said.
One of the men laughed.
"Tell us where he is," he said, "and we will let you go, and this for your information, for you were seen with him yesterday in Nauplia," and he held out a handful of piastres.
This time Mitsos laughed, though laughing was not in his thoughts, and the sound was strange to his own ears.
"That is a lie," he said; "he has not been at Nauplia for a year. As for your piastres, if you think I am telling you a lie, do you suppose that I should speak differently for the sake of them? Be damned to your piastres," and he laughed again.
"I will give you one minute," said the other, "and then you will hang from that tree if you do not tell us. One of your countrymen, I see, has cut the rope, but there will be enough for a tall boy like you."
They strolled away towards where the third man was sitting, leaving him there bound.