“Lord,” said a voice from among the police on the steps, “I admitted this girl Kalliopé by the small door last evening from the street.” Maurice looked at Danaë.
“Lord, he also is lying,” she cried. “These Slavs of yours all hate me, who am a Greek.”
Princess Theophanis leaned forward in her chair, and spoke slowly and distinctly. “I saw Kalliopé hiding on the stairs near the small door when I came in from the hospital,” she said. “She had a great bundle in her arms, which might have been a child. I remember thinking at the time that it looked like one.”
“Oh, Eirene, why didn’t you say this before?” cried Zoe, in agony. Her brother raised his hand for silence.
“Kalliopé, you will do better to tell the truth. Two witnesses have proved your story to be false. You were in the back courtyard, you went out and in at the small door, you took out with you a bundle resembling a child. Had she the bundle in her arms when she returned?” he asked suddenly of the guard who had spoken.
“I could not see, lord; there was no light. She was very much wrapped up, and she may have been carrying something.”
Before anything more could be said, Zoe tore her hand from her husband’s, and flung herself on her knees before Danaë.
“Oh, Kalliopé,” she sobbed, “give him back to me! He was so sweet, and he never did you any harm. I have tried to be kind to you—if I was ever unkind, I ask you now for forgiveness. Only tell us what you have done with him. You shall not be punished in any way—you shall have anything you can ask, if you will only give him back.”
“Lady mine, I have done nothing with him,” sobbed the girl. “I call the All-Holy Mother of God to witness that I had no hand in stealing the Lord Harold. If I could tell you where he is at this moment, I would do it gladly.”
Wylie raised his wife gently. “My dear Zoe, the girl is hardened. It is no use appealing to her. Wouldn’t it be as well to continue this inquiry in private?” he asked of Maurice, who replied by remanding Logofet to the cells, and dismissing the police spectators. The hunted look was in Danaë’s eyes again as she faced her judges, but Maurice spoke with studious gentleness.