“The less said about that the better,” returned Maurice; “my errand is best kept quiet. What I am concerned about is how to get to Sofia. I want to save time, and don’t at all relish the idea of kicking my heels here for days waiting for a torpedo-boat. Isn’t there a vessel in the harbour that will take me?”
“There’s a weekly service to Port Said, and an occasional boat to Constantinople. It takes more than three days, though. Look here, let us get out of this crowd and go to the hotel and talk it over. That’s a queer machine of yours.”
They proceeded to the hotel, George explaining the mechanism of the car as they went. At lunch they discussed the situation, having asked the proprietor to let them know if a green motor-car appeared in the town.
“The delay is very annoying,” said Maurice. “If we wait for a vessel it will take us four or five days to get to Sofia; that’s a week altogether. Isn’t there a steamer across the Strait of Otranto?”
“There’s a sailing vessel that takes eleven hours to make Corfu, but that won’t help you much.”
“Why not cross in the gyro?” suggested George.
“What!” exclaimed the officer.
“It goes perfectly well on the water,” pursued George. “How far is the strait across?”
“From about fifty to a hundred miles. But the idea, pardon me, is absurd. The sea is calm enough now; but these waters are subject to sudden storms, and your car could not live through anything like a sea.”
“I’m inclined to think we might try it, nevertheless,” said Maurice. “If the weather holds we could make the passage in seven or eight hours.”