“Can you get us to the Consulate?” asked Wylie, moving aside. The men’s eyes grew round as they distinguished Eirene crouching in the shadow behind him.
“It will be very difficult to take the lady such a long way through the streets,” mused the sergeant. “Has the Bimbashi Bey no friends in the Greek quarter?”
“I am staying with Professor Panagiotis,” said Wylie.
“Oh, the chief of the Greeks! That is well, unless his house is one of those destroyed. We can soon see.”
The soldiers opened out, and Wylie and Eirene took their places in the midst. The sergeant, stalking just ahead, conversed with Wylie over his shoulder. Ever since their meeting in the north, he and his men had been sent hither and thither to places where outbreaks were expected, but the outbreaks always occurred in the districts they had just left, or, as now, had been allowed to come to a head instead of being nipped in the bud. Every one had been expecting this particular outbreak for days, or even weeks, he declared. It might have been entirely prevented, but some one must have been heavily bribed. Undoubtedly it was all due to the representatives of the Powers, who with one hand egged on the revolutionists to their outrages, and with the other held back the Roumis from punishing them as they deserved.
Argument of this kind did not admit of much reply, and Wylie attempted no defence of the action of the Powers, which had certainly not been marked by any particular success. They were now in the Greek quarter, and scared faces peeped at them from upper windows, while every door was fast shut. Arrived at the end of the street in which Professor Panagiotis lived, they found a cordon of soldiers drawn across it, guarding a carriage which was waiting ready to start. About the middle of the street, a gap in the row of houses dark against the sky showed where the Professor’s dwelling had stood. The sergeant questioned his colleague in charge of the guard, and found that they had been detailed by the Vali to escort the Professor home, as his life was considered to be in danger, but on arriving they discovered from the neighbours that the house had been destroyed almost simultaneously with the first explosion—that at the Seignorial Bank. The Professor was now examining the ruins, to see whether any of his property could be saved, but in a few minutes he was to be escorted to the city gate, and set safely on his way to Kallimeri.
“This is most fortunate,” said Wylie to Eirene. “I will make bold to offer you the shelter of the Professor’s villa instead of his house here, and you will meet the Teffanys again. They are longing to see you.”
“Teffany? Oh, you mean Maurice and Zoe. I always think of them as Smith. I should rejoice to meet them again, but not—not like this.” Eirene looked down at her torn clothes and ruined shoes. “It would not be proper—becoming. We are not now in the mountains.”
Wylie laughed involuntarily. “They must have seen you in much worse trim often in the mountains,” he said. “Why is it improper now, if it wasn’t then?”
“The circumstances are different,” she said, flushing. “They know now who I am. I cannot thrust myself upon them and ask help. At least we were all in the same plight in the mountains.”