“Not a doubt of it, and wild to give what help she can, I should say. All right, I’ll look out. But how if at the same time I make unostentatious preparations for a visit to Hadgi-Antoniou, for the purpose of painting a picture of it for the devout and orthodox Imperial Princess Eirene Theophanis? She gave me a commission for the outside, and said she would like one of the church as well. They will probably grant me a passport all right, if you are known to be safe at Czarigrad, for it won’t do to keep all Europeans away from Hadgi-Antoniou, or people will begin to think there’s something wrong there. Sir Frank will back me up, too, when he has got you off his mind. Then you must cover up your tracks at Czarigrad, and come across, preferably by sea, and join me without passing through Therma. There’s a little port called Myriaki where we could rendezvous comfortably, and at the worst I can leave one of my servants behind and take you in his place.”
“You must have done a good deal of thinking between the Scythian Consulate and here,” said Wylie drily.
“Ah, you don’t know how my brain works when it’s put to it. I’m bound to see this thing through now. How are you off for the wherewithal?”
“Oh, the Professor has just come into another quarter’s income, and he’s quite chirpy.”
“That’s all right for Czarigrad, but at Hadgi-Antoniou we may have to outbid the Scythian agent. I can raise anything up to a thousand—shall I do it?”
“I suppose it would be as well,” said Wylie unwillingly. “It sounds awfully odd to hear you talking about ‘we,’” he explained, rather ashamed of his coldness. “I seem to have let you in for a good deal, when you remember that the Smiths have nothing to do with you.”
“Well, for the matter of that, they have nothing to do with you either, have they? It was a mere accident of association that brought you together. Of course, you went through a lot in their company, but I hope I may do what little I can to help an English lady in distress, though I haven’t had the honour of being introduced to her.”
“Right you are! You must think me a surly brute. I’m glad you have pulled me up—honestly I am. I suppose I might have gone on to wish the Smiths not to be rescued unless I had the chief hand in it.”
“You shall have the chief hand in it, so far as it depends on me,” said Armitage heartily. “After all you have done, it would be a black shame to rob you of the honour. I’m under your orders, remember, and you may be sure I shall say so. I’ll get things ready here, while you do the Czarigrad part of the business, and then we’ll meet and achieve our final coup in company.”
There was no hesitation in Wylie’s agreement, but during the next week or two he was inclined to consider that Armitage had chosen conspicuously the easier task. Nothing but iron resolution on his part would have dragged the Professor to Czarigrad, and kept him there when he had arrived. His dislike of approaching the Patriarch was so marked that Wylie began to suspect that the tales he had heard of the secret organisation of Greek bands in Emathia were true, and that the Professor intended to employ them to rescue Maurice by force, thus committing him to their cause, and them to his. But since the Professor vouchsafed no account of his plans, Wylie could only proceed with his own, which were not rendered easier of execution by the reluctance of the Patriarch and his entourage to do their part. There could be little doubt that Scythian agents had been beforehand with him, for it required weary days of waiting, and persistent refusals to depart, before he could gain a sight of any one in authority. By this time Professor Panagiotis seemed to have made up his mind to work heartily with him, and they went together to the Patriarchal palace, where they were received by a kind of domestic chaplain, or clerical private secretary, a dark-robed, high-capped monk with a keen, astute face. Having heard their request, the secretary addressed himself to the Professor, apparently regarding him as the more reasonable being of the two.