She disappeared into the house, and in a moment her step was heard across the yard. As soon as the door was opened the dog flew out like a cork from a bottle, only to find himself between the devil and the deep sea—his mistress, an authentic terror, standing on one side, and Mitsos' whip flirting out at him like the tongue of a snake on the other. So he scuffled away to a safe distance and barked himself out of all shape.
"Come in, Yanni," said Gregoriou's wife. "What brings you here?"
"A message from Petrobey to Gregoriou."
The woman's eye travelled slowly up to Mitsos' face, as if she could only take him in by sections.
"And the giant?" she asked. "Is he from a fair?"
Yanni shouted with laughter.
"No; it is my cousin. But we are in a hurry, as we go far to-day. Where shall we find Gregoriou?"
"He is at the mill. You will find him there, and then come back and drink a glass of wine."
The stream that worked the mill was confined within a masonry-laid bed for a hundred yards above the house, to narrow its course and concentrate its energy. From the end of the yard ran out a tall, stout-built wall; along the top of this the water was conducted to a wooden shoot, below which was the mill-wheel. The mill seemed to be in full working order, for an ear-filling booming came from within, shaking the rickety door on its hinges. The two tried the latch, but found it locked, and it was not till Yanni had shouted his name that it was cautiously opened.
"Yanni Mavromichales?" queried a voice from inside.