He went on to describe some of his activities, and the Englishmen, breaking away at last, made but a cool response to his genial "Au revoir, zhentlemen."
It was ten days before their seaplane arrived. The engine required very little tuning up. They made a few trial trips, to accustom themselves to the atmospheric conditions of the Ægean Sea, and looked forward to an early call to action.
On returning to their quarters one night, they were surprised to see a British sentry at the door of the house where Mr. Christopoulos lodged.
"What's up?" asked Hunter, stopping.
"Got orders to guard this house, sir," replied the man.
"What for?"
"A party of us was sent to arrest the chap that lives here, sir--the fat Greek Christopoulos. Don't know what he's been doing; swindling somebody, perhaps."
"Did you get him?"
"No, sir. He can't be found."
They passed on, and, after changing, went to the restaurant for their evening meal. There they learnt that Mr. Christopoulos was suspected of spying. It appeared that he must have got wind of the order for his arrest, and had decamped; but his disappearance was a mystery, for no vessel had left the island since the morning, with the exception of a small country sailing-boat. It was conjectured that he had left on one of the small craft engaged in bringing provisions to the base; but though several of these had been overhauled at sea by fast despatch boats, no trace of the fugitive was discovered.