“Did he tell you to say nothing to us?”
“That was his message by Vlasto, that I was not to reveal this scheme of his to you.”
“And you go and do it at once?”
“Professor Panagiotis has no control over my actions,” said Eirene, with dignity. “He may tender his advice, but it is for me to accept or reject it as I think well.”
“What could have been his reason?” mused Zoe.
“He also asked whether I had told you who I was, and entreated me to keep the secret if I had not. It made me feel that I was not treating you fairly—that a peasant should know what my trusted companions had not been told.”
“Did he cross-question you any more?” asked Zoe, too anxious to care much about Eirene’s mental perplexities.
“He was very eager to know whether all the family jewels I took with me when I escaped were hopelessly lost. It seems that the ruby plaque de corsage was exposed for sale in Therma, and has since been destroyed—the one with the wings, you know. That made me very sad for a moment, but I was able to assure him that I had saved the most important of all.”
It was dark now, but she took Zoe’s hand and guided it over her skirt. “The girdle of the Empress Isidora,” she said, as Zoe’s fingers came in contact with something round and hard, once, again, some dozen times in all.
“Eirene, the weights you put in your skirt! you have had them there all this time? That was the reason you would never let any one touch it!” cried Zoe.