“This sounds more businesslike,” said the secretary approvingly. “You can answer for the young man’s strict Orthodoxy?”
“I have myself instructed him, and the experiences he has since undergone at the hands of the schismatics can hardly have attracted him to their cause. If the Patriarch intervened to rescue him, it would bind the youth to him indissolubly.”
“The idea is good, but there are difficulties in the way of carrying it out. To give you an order directing the release of the prisoners would probably lead to their disappearance—we are surrounded by spies—and would certainly lose us the monastery. It must be in general terms. But even then you are too well known,” to the Professor, “and I have been warned against this English gentleman, your companion, so that he also will be watched for. You must find some trustworthy agent, who may receive the Patriarchal letter, and do your business by its aid.”
“Make it out in the name of Harold Armitage, an English painter, who is commissioned to obtain views of the monastery for the Princess Eirene Theophanis,” said Wylie.
“The Scythian candidate? You are ingenious, monsieur, to make the devout purpose of the Princess contribute to her undoing. Well, the letter shall be prepared, and all possible assistance desired for Mr Armitage in his pious task. The rest of the business you must manage for yourselves.”
He bowed them out, and as soon as they had crossed the threshold Wylie expressed his candid opinion of the Patriarchal surroundings. The Professor smiled grimly.
“When the Morean insurrection broke out, the Patriarch of the day was hanged at his own church door,” he said. “We are not all ready to be martyrs nowadays.”
Wylie said nothing, for the explanation was evidently all-sufficient in the Professor’s eyes, but he wondered how much affection and gratitude Maurice was expected to feel towards the Patriarchate, and whether too much had not been promised in his name.
The Patriarchal letter arrived next day, its preparation having been quickened by a discreet distribution of gifts among the persons concerned, and Wylie was able to carry out his plans. The Professor was to remain some days in Czarigrad, visiting the British Embassy daily, and apparently devoting all his energies to obtaining the release of the prisoners by its means, while Wylie took his departure in a small fast sailing-vessel for Myriaki. The boat was chartered by the Professor exclusively for this service, and Wylie suspected that it was not the first time he had employed it on secret errands, so knowing did the captain show himself with respect to ships and customs-stations which it was advisable to avoid. Arriving off Myriaki late one evening, Wylie, standing in the bows, raised and dipped a light three times. The signal was answered from the shore, and presently Armitage came off, brimming over with excitement.
“It’s all right,” he said. “You are my cavass, Spiridion Istriotis, and I have brought you a suit of his clothes. The real Spiro is remaining in the seclusion of the paternal mansion, on full wages, until I send him word. You had better get the things on before coming on shore, hadn’t you? Your cabin is large enough to allow of that, though it certainly wouldn’t hold us both at once.”