“Princess Zoe has been telling secrets, I see.”
“I made her. It’s better to know. Did you think I couldn’t stand it? If one is to be offered up as a sacrifice to the unity of Europe, one may as well be aware of the honour.”
“It’s awfully rough on you and your Prince—the Englishman who calls himself a Greek, I mean; not the flyaway chap that came aboard with you off Skandalo.”
“No,” said Wylie doggedly. “We knew what we were in for, and took the risk, but it is rough on the women.”
“There’s no one you could get to come here to look after them, I suppose, in case——?”
“Not a soul, I’m afraid. What about Armitage?”
“His case comes under the Foreign Enlistment Act, I believe. He doesn’t seem to have offered armed resistance.”
“Still, he won’t be free to do anything, I imagine. Well, after all, your Admiral will see that no harm happens to them, and if they wish to stay to the end—it would comfort them, I suppose—how could we object just because it made it worse for us?”
“They won’t make it worse for you,” said the surgeon with conviction. “They have grit, those two. Why, the way Princess Zoe came—no, I forgot; it was not to be mentioned.”
That the slip was premeditated Wylie could hardly doubt, but he could not bring himself to let it pass. “You don’t mean that she saw me when I was ill?” he said.