“It is true,” Effenden Pascha admitted. “What then?”
“The accession of Ughtred of Tyrnaus is not approved of by my master. As I have explained, we cannot move ourselves, for the time is not yet ripe for a European war. This, however, we can undertake. If your master should refuse to recognize the new sovereign of Theos, and should think the time ripe for an effort to regain what was once a part of the Ottoman Empire, there shall be no interference. Russia will not interfere, and Russia will see that no other Power does. You follow me?”
“Perfectly,” Effenden Pascha answered, quietly; “and afterwards?”
“The afterwards,” Domiloff remarked, with a shrug of the shoulders, “is of your own making.”
The Turk shook his head slowly.
“Domiloff,” he said, “so far all is well. But your price? Your master serves no one without a price. Wherein is to come your advantage?”
“We have none to gain,” Domiloff answered. “Simply we object to a Tyrnaus once more upon the throne of Theos.”
The Turk moved towards the door.
“There is still time,” he said. “I go to pay my respects to King Ughtred.”
“You are too late,” Domiloff cried.