“No, I don’t. About the landslip, I mean.”
“Your scream made me look up, and I jumped back and flattened myself against the cliff almost unconsciously. The Roumis were outside, and besides, they didn’t understand what you meant, of course. Some of them were carried down by the fall of cliff, and the rest made for their ladder with all possible speed. If they ever get to their boat, ours is waiting to intercept them.”
“Then they were Roumis?”
“Undoubtedly. I always suspected Janni, but there was no reason for arresting him, and he didn’t seem to have any means of doing actual harm. Of course the idea was that these fellows should hide in his house till nightfall, and then co-operate in some way with an attack on Ephestilo from the outside, probably setting the village and the boats on fire and creating a panic, under cover of which a landing might be effected.”
“It was very dreadful, I know, but—they took their lives in their hands, and—don’t you think that some of those who were buried under the fall of cliff may not be dead?” asked Zoe incoherently.
“If you remember, I suggested just now that we should hurry back to the monastery,” he replied with admirable politeness. “As soon as I have placed you in safety, I shall return and see what can be done.”
“Oh, but let us turn back and do it now. Let me help.”
“Certainly not,” in a tone of such finality that Zoe did not venture even to protest. Once again she smiled involuntarily, and when Wylie looked at her with a mixture of astonishment and injury, was driven to attempt an explanation.
“I can’t help feeling rather proud that it was through me this plot was foiled,” she said meekly. “Yesterday you were so convinced that Eirene and I were nothing but a care and an anxiety, you know.”
“I’m afraid I still consider your services overbalanced by your presence here,” was the ungallant reply.