“Oh, you were thinking of other things—of Eirene herself, and of ameliorating the lot of the brigands. I nearly exploded when she accused us of trying to find out who she was, and you declared so indignantly that we were doing nothing of the kind. It was after I had asked her a leading question.”
Maurice frowned. “Well, I suppose you have told her who we are?” he said.
“Certainly not, and I am not going to.”
“Then I shall.”
“No, you won’t. It wouldn’t be safe. You know what Eirene is—or, rather, you can’t tell what she will do. Only yesterday afternoon she made a confidant of that new brigand, Vlasto, and told him everything she could tell, just because he said he had been sent to her by Professor Panagiotis.”
“That’s just it. If she knew about us, she would realise that the Professor wouldn’t send to her. It isn’t fair, Zoe. It’s placing her under a disadvantage for us to know her secret while she doesn’t know ours.”
“Why, what difference would it make if she did?”
Maurice appeared to find a difficulty in answering. “Well, I should think she’d be rather pleased,” he said, after some hesitation, “to find that we were her equals and relations and that sort of thing, don’t you know?”
“My dear boy!” with superb scorn. “Do you know Eirene as little as that after all this time? Do you really think she would welcome us as relations and equals? You seem to forget that we stand for the ruin of all her schemes. She is simply not wanted if you are recognised as the heir.”
“Oh, I say, but this is vile!” cried Maurice. “To go and rob a poor girl of what she has always looked forward to as her own——! Look here, Zoe, let’s chuck it.”