There was a moment’s awkward silence, which Wylie broke abruptly. “Kalliopé,” he said to the girl, who had stood looking with angry eyes from one to another while Prince Romanos spoke hastily in French, “why do you say now that Petros took no part in the murder? You told us before that you were afraid he would kill the child as he had killed the mother.”
These were not Danaë’s exact words, but she was too eager to answer to resent them. “I misjudged him, lord,” she replied quickly, glad to put herself right as far as possible with regard to Petros. “He laid no hand upon the Lady. He has told me so himself since, and I ought to have known that he would not overstep his orders.”
“His orders!” Everyone in the room seemed to echo the words, and Danaë stood aghast at what she had done.
“The orders of Prince Romanos?” asked Maurice.
“No, lord,” very low.
“Whose orders, then?” There was silence.
“Kalliopé, you must tell us,” cried Zoe impulsively. “Who gave these orders, and what were they? You can’t mean that you knew of a plot against your mistress, and never warned her?”
“A plot, lady mine? There was no plot. My lord and——” she broke off hurriedly. “My lord’s father heard of the schismatic woman who had bewitched my lord and was holding him in her snares, and he commanded Petros to bring her to Strio, where she would be kept safe, and do no more harm.”
“And you knew of this?” cried Zoe.
“I came to Therma from Strio on purpose to help in the doing of it, lady.”