“Oh, I forgot to tell you; he is not dead, of course. He was wounded and left for dead, but a Greek from his own island found him—at least, that is the story—and smuggled him away into Dardania. The Prince and Princess are looking after him, and Professor Panagiotis is hanging on his words, and making Europe ring with the history of our blockade. But he has made Europe ring so often, and it doesn’t seem to do any good. And Prince Romanos, who did so much harm by his rashness, is safe with friends, and you and Maurice are prisoners, and any moment the Government may order the Admiral to hand you over to the Roumis——”
“But there’s also the chance that the British Government may develop a certain amount of backbone, and refuse.”
“You mustn’t count upon it;” Zoe’s tears started afresh. “Scythia is frightfully bitter against us, and she eggs the others on. They say she refuses to consider any further measures until the prisoners have been given up. And oh, do you know, Admiral Essiter says that after the Therma massacres the Powers were practically agreed on giving Emathia a constitution and releasing her from Roum, but that while they were quarrelling as to whom they should choose for Prince we went to Hagiamavra, and they all withdrew their assent? They say they can’t allow reforms to be extorted by violence. So we really have done harm.”
“At least we did the best we knew how,” said Wylie wearily. “Don’t trouble about it, dear. You have told me the worst now, and thinking won’t make it any better. So we’ll forget it, do you see, and simply be happy. You will come to see me as often as they let you, and then I shall be happy, and I’ll try to make you happy. And as for the times between—why, the first half of them I shall be busy remembering what you said and how you looked, and the last half I shall be wondering what you will say and how you will look the next time, and you can’t imagine how quickly it will pass. There’s the doctor whistling vigorously! Tell me quick—do you agree?”
“Oh!” sighed Zoe, “if you had only been like this before!”
“Ah, I’m weak and broken in spirit now, you see. No, dearest, forgive me. I have been a brute, but I want to leave you a happy hour or two to remember. Doctor, you promised us a quarter of an hour.”
“And you have had thirty-five minutes,” said the surgeon. “Well, I’m glad to see you seem to have profited by it. He was quite restive at the thought of a visitor, Princess, but he looks much better now.”
He escorted Zoe down to the quay and saw her on board the pinnace, returning for a farewell visit to Wylie and the other sick and wounded insurgents who were in extemporised hospital quarters at Ephestilo.
“You’re a lucky chap,” he said, looking at Wylie narrowly as he spoke.
“I know I am,” was the hearty reply, “and I’ll stick to it even if the luck ends to-morrow.”