“I am very much obliged to you,” said Zoe, with meaning in her voice. “Still, I can assure you that if both you and Lord Armitage turn your backs on me, I am quite capable of looking after myself.”
“Oh, look here, Princess,” he said, in a tone that startled Zoe, so long was it since she had heard it, “don’t bring the whole thing to smash, I beg of you. You stay behind, like a—like a sensible woman, and persuade your sister to stay too. You forget that your brother and I know something already about dragging ladies through the wilds of Emathia, and we don’t want to try it again. And to take women and children when there’s a prospect of fighting Roumis—it’s unthinkable, simply sickening folly. Now you will go back?”
His earnestness was quite pathetic, but Zoe hardened her heart. “If you ask me as a friend, I will,” she said.
Wylie recollected himself. “No, I won’t—ma’am,” he said angrily.
“Then I won’t go back,” said Zoe.
CHAPTER VII.
THE ENEMY IN THE WAY.
It was a silent company that rode through the night from Bashi Konak towards the Roumi frontier. Zoe and Eirene were presumably triumphant, but they were also in disgrace, and they were made to feel it. One of the men, either Wylie or Armitage, rode first, to see that the way was clear, then came the two culprits, left severely to themselves, then Maurice and the other man, conversing occasionally in low murmurs which were quite inaudible to the pair in front. Maurice had refused curtly Eirene’s demand to take little Constantine with her on her horse, and she had yielded the point without remonstrance, somewhat to the surprise and much to the relief of the rest. If the worst came to the worst, Maurice had one weapon the mere mention of which would bring her to her knees in terror, and she knew it. Her threat of leaving him could have been rendered nugatory in a moment by the counter-threat of depriving her of her boy, and she was afraid to push her husband too far, since he had a way of quietly assuming the command when she was in full tide of advance, which she found extremely disconcerting. She had no voice now in the conduct of the expedition, nor did she expect it, and both she and Zoe would have fallen from their horses with fatigue sooner than confess how tired they were getting as the night wore on. It was a welcome surprise when, just as the first faint light of dawn enabled them to see a cluster of white-walled houses in front, Armitage, who had ridden ahead, came back to them.
“We halt here for an hour or two, ma’am,” he said. “This is the customs station, and there is a fairly clean inn just over the frontier. I fancy there is a storm coming on, but we shall be in shelter.”
The customs examination was shortened and simplified by the judicious use of arguments which the Roumi officials could understand, and Zoe fancied that a discussion of the same kind was going on with the man in charge of the telegraph-office on the Dardanian side of the frontier. Something was said as to the telegraph-poles having been destroyed in the storm, which appeared premature, since the storm had not begun, and the poles looked particularly firm and strong, and it was clear that an attempt was to be made to cover the trail of the fugitives. Zoe smiled, with a recollection of past experiences of the kind, and betook herself thankfully to the inn, where Eirene was bestowing little Constantine in a perfect nest of rugs. The woman of the house brought them coffee, and they were soon asleep.
Outside the inn, Maurice and Wylie were stamping about, shivering, while Armitage interviewed the landlord, whose acquaintance he had made in the course of former journeys to Pentikosti. Presently he appeared.