“And—lady, tell me truly—you don’t think my being his wife will do him any harm—that I shall disgrace him?”
“Not while you feel as you do now.”
“And that will be always. It is well, then. Now I shall fight for my life. Otherwise I would have let my brother do his will.”
“But what has your brother to do with it?”
“He has condemned me secretly to death, my lady, like all those who were concerned in the death of his wife. They are all dead but me now—Petros was the last.”
She spoke with such evident sincerity that Zoe was impressed, though she would not show it. “My dear child, you must be dreaming. Your own brother! You mustn’t let yourself get morbid. Let us go downstairs now. I see my husband coming back.”
They went down to find Armitage, and presently Wylie joined them, with a somewhat perturbed face.
“When did you see your brother last, lady?” he asked of Danaë.
“When he was carried wounded from the parade-ground,” she replied. “None of us have seen him since. He asked for Janni at first, but the poor little one was frightened and cried, and the doctors said he must not come in again.”
“Haven’t you seen the Prince, Graham?” asked Zoe.