“Blest if ’tain’t all queer,” muttered Gurt in bewilderment, and thereupon relapsed into silence.
The house of Justinian was evidently some distance away, as they had to wait a considerable time before Alexandros returned, much to the discomfort of the three shipwrecked men, who were beginning to feel their privations keenly. Maurice would have liked to ask after Helena, but the knowledge that Caliphronas was his rival forbade him to risk an inquiry. He now began to see that the anticipations of Crispin regarding possible dangers were not without some foundation, for, trapped in this mountain heart, which appeared to his fancy to be a most extraordinary place, he saw that Justinian could hold them prisoners as long as he pleased. Besides, this scamp of a Caliphronas, who hated both himself and Crispin thoroughly, was evidently the right hand of Justinian, and thoughts of the cruelties of Greek brigands began to pass unpleasantly through his mind. Here, towards the end of the civilized nineteenth century, was a genuine robber’s cave, into which he was blindly walking, and, despite the presence of Crispin, who stood beside him, Maurice did not feel quite at his ease regarding their reception by this renegade Englishman who was called Justinian.
At length rapid steps were heard descending the staircase, and Alexandros came in sight, holding his torch in one hand and the wished-for key in the other. Having unlocked the door, he held it open for them to enter, and, when the four men were inside, locked it carefully again, and thrust the key into his belt in order to take it back to his master. As he did so, he spoke to Caliphronas in Greek, upon which the Count translated the speech for the benefit of Maurice and the seaman.
“Justinian will see you at the Acropolis.”
“The Acropolis?”
“Yes! it is a fancy he has for calling his house so. ’Tis too small for a palace, and too large for an ordinary house, so the intermediate term Acropolis fits it exactly. Come, Mr. Maurice. Crispin, you know the way, don’t you?”
“Considering I have lived all my life in Melnos, I should think it highly probable,” retorted the poet in an annoyed tone, for the patronage of Caliphronas was insufferable.
Conducted by Caliphronas and Alexandros, they walked slowly up the giant staircase, and in a short time arrived at a huge archway similar to the one into which they had entered. Through this Maurice, to his astonishment, saw a smiling landscape, and paused thunderstruck under the great arch.
“Why, Melnos is in the cup of the mountain.”
“Exactly,” replied Crispin, who was enjoying his astonishment. “Melnos is an extinct volcano, and this is the crater. You see we have plenty of room for buildings, fields, cultivation, and all such desirable things. We are two hundred feet above the sea-level here.”