“Probably not; but you cannot storm it single-handed.”
“What about my dear Alcibiades?” sneered the Greek significantly.
Crispin stopped, and looked Caliphronas up and down with scorn.
“You had better not say any more, Andros, or I may be tempted to tell Justinian of your intention.”
“All I say is not meant,” cried Caliphronas in evident alarm; “but Justinian cannot go back from his word about Helena.”
“Helena!” said Maurice, who had hitherto kept silence. “What about Helena?”
“Nothing to do with you, sir,” retorted Caliphronas rudely, and walked on quickly.
“What does he mean?” asked Maurice, turning to Crispin with a frown.
“Nothing more than what I told you on The Eunice, when we were off Taygetus.”
“You told me Caliphronas loved Helena; but this promise”—