“Look here, Kalliopé,” said Maurice abruptly. “Were these men, whom Petros got to help him, intended to be members of the Prince’s guard, or not?”
Danaë reflected a little. “Nothing was said about it, lord,” she replied; “and I think Petros would have feared to broach the matter to them. He is servant first of the Despot, and then of my brother, but they are servants altogether to the Lord Romanos, and might have betrayed the plan to him. Surely they were dressed like the guard that they might be admitted to the villa without the sentry’s suspecting anything?”
“That is possible. And you admitted them?”
“I put a little piece of iron, which Petros gave me, into the lock, lord, so that the key would not quite turn.”
“And why did you hide yourself and the child, if you were sure no harm would be done to him?”
“The Lady bade me hide, lord, and I was frightened—old Mariora cried out. There was a panic upon me.”
“Oh, Kalliopé, were you not sorry—not the least sorry—when you saw what you had done?” cried Zoe.
“I was a little sorry for Janni’s mother, my lady—but not for the woman who had bewitched my brother.”
Prince Romanos rose decisively from his chair. “Cavaliere, if you are not convinced, I am. Henceforth I live for vengeance. As for this wretched girl, I suppose she must enjoy the consideration she has denied to others. After all, perhaps her fittest punishment will be to send her back to Strio. I left it so young that I did not fully realise what an undesirable place it was to live in. I think—” he spoke in Greek, with intense meaning—“that we will send you back to Strio as a suspected witch, girl.”
Danaë turned so deadly white that Zoe stepped forward to catch her. “Why—why should you say that, lord?” she murmured.