“Caliphronas,” he said at length slowly, “is a man who is a slave to his own vices, and gratifies himself at all costs. He lets no one stand in the way of such self-gratification; but whether you are an obstacle or not remains to be seen. At all events, you have elected to trust me, mysterious as I am, and I promise you on my word of honor that you shall have no reason to regret that trust. I foresee difficulties ahead, but these you need not be afraid of as long as I am by your side. You will leave Roylands with me, and you will return with me, and I give you my word you will not be a bit the worst for your journey, nay, I hope you will be the better.”
“One would think we were going to Timbuctoo, the way you talk,” said Maurice crossly. “You have no idea how these enigmatic speeches pique my curiosity.”
“Well, such curiosity I will gratify—shortly.”
“But”—
“You said you would trust me, and ask no more questions.”
“I do trust you, and I will not.”
Certainly he could not complain of a lack of interest in life now: this mysterious woman Helena, these equally mysterious individuals, Crispin and Caliphronas,—all three riddles. Surely the son of Laius was never so bothered by enigmas as was this young country squire. However, it added new zest to the wine of life, and gave him something to look forward to, so on the whole Maurice was enjoying himself.
“By the way,” said Crispin lazily, after a pause, “how are you going to Melnos?”
“Oh, I don’t know exactly. Go by train to Venice, I suppose, and take an Austrian Lloyd steamer from there, or leave Marseilles by the French packet which goes to Athens. Once at the Piræus, and there won’t be much difficulty in exploring the Archipelago in search of your Island of Fantasy. To tell you the truth, however, as I only made up my mind this morning, I have not yet looked up routes, steamers, and all that sort of thing, but intend to go to town next week and find out all about them.”
“There will be no need,” said Crispin quietly; “you can come to Greece in my yacht.”