“By massacres, I suppose?” Eirene shuddered. “The Prince will never agree to that.”
“The Prince will not be consulted, madame. The lamented philanthropist to whom the Emathia of the future owes so much recognised that in certain qualities your Royal Highness has the advantage over your husband, while in other respects he is superior. It is this combination that is of such promise for your future rule. You will not shrink from the measures necessary to bring that rule about.”
“No, it would be criminal to hold back now.”
“Madame, you put into words my very thoughts. Assume—though I cannot believe it possible—that this conference closes next week, having arrived at a unanimous decision to support your husband. There will be just time for the delegates to return to their districts before the snow melts sufficiently to allow of the movement of troops. The Roumis are already irritated by our successes of the autumn, and the attacks that have been made even during the winter on their outposts. They will be in a mood to act energetically, and repress all outbreaks with severity. You know what that means. Outbreaks will occur. They will be put down. The details will be spread far and wide. Christendom will be roused, will send representatives to inquire into the state of affairs. We shall continue to resist. The Roumis will continue to act with vigour. The Powers inquire into our demands. We desire a constitutional government under the suzerainty of Roum, but with a Christian Governor appointed by the Powers and responsible to them, and for the post we suggest the descendant of our ancient Emperors, to whose banner all sections of Christians in Emathia are willing to rally. We may not at first obtain all we ask, but Minoa has taught us the value of perseverance.”
“But if the Roumis should not act with severity?” broke in Eirene. “This new Greek Vali of Therma, appointed in response to the protests of the Powers in the autumn—he will not promote massacres.”
“For Skopiadi Pasha’s influence I would give that!” cried the Professor, snapping his fingers. “It is not he who rules,—he has enough to do to look after his own safety,—but the Military Governor, Jalal-ud-din Pasha. He commands the troops in the city and in the field; he is one of the old school, and believes in prompt repression. He would not hesitate to arrange for Skopiadi’s removal if he opposed him—and truly we could ask for nothing better!”
“At least,” urged Eirene, “let there be as little bloodshed as possible. Could we not contrive to rescue and arm the threatened Christians before they could be massacred? Lord Armitage’s yacht, with plenty of rifles and cartridges on board, is lying at Pentikosti, ready to sail night or day.”
“And then where would be our moral effect on the minds of the Powers, madame? You are like most ladies who indulge in revolutions—willing to assent to any amount of bloodshed provided it takes place out of your sight and hearing. A massacre is necessary, but you may well salve your conscience by laying the blame on the Powers, who will be moved by nothing else.”
“I think you have an appointment to meet Dr Terminoff now that the games are over for the morning?” Eirene rose with marked displeasure, which the Professor chose to disregard.
“I am honoured by your recollection, madame. You may rely on me to keep you informed of any new points that may arise. May I also depend on you for early information of any suspicious circumstances that strike you? It is some underground action on the part of Pannonia that I fear, for her silence, coupled with the benevolence of Scythia, upsets all my calculations.”