“I am at a loss,” he said frankly. “My whole nature rises up against the compulsion you wish to exercise over me, Prince, and yet I find something noble in your theory. But you make a large demand in asking that I should place myself voluntarily in subordination to you.”
“I ask nothing of the kind. If the Emathians are wise, they will elect Colonel Wylie to supreme command, and I shall want nothing better than to serve under him. If they are not—why, I suppose we shall all command guerilla bands, and do the best we can with them.”
“And you are willing to swear that you will honourably withdraw from the contest if, when the fighting is over, the Emathians elect me?”
“I give you my word here and now, but I will swear if you like.”
“And if—if you should not see the end of the fighting?”
“If anything happens to me, you will have a walk-over, for neither the Powers nor the Emathians are likely to put a woman and a child upon the throne.”
“But you had better be very careful not to have anything to do with that happening,” broke in Wylie; “or you will not see the end of the fighting either.”
“These insinuations are highly offensive, Prince,” said the Greek, as Maurice turned angrily upon his follower.
“I simply stated a fact, sir,” said Wylie, in answer to the look. “If you choose to invite people to murder you, it is only fair they should know that you don’t stand alone.”
“And Prince Romanos accused you of wishing to murder him a few minutes ago, sir,” said Armitage. The Greek laughed.