His excellency looked at me; then, although by nature a grave man, he gave a low, humorous chuckle, and regarded me with visible amusement.
"Oh, of course, you can rely on that, Lord Wheatley," said he.
"That is a diplomatic assurance, your excellency?" I ventured to suggest, with a smile.
"It is unofficial," said he, "but as binding as if it were official. Our governor in that part of the world is a very active man—yes, a decidedly active man."
The only result of this conversation was that, when I was buying my sporting guns in St. James's Street the next day, I purchased a couple of pairs of revolvers at the same time. It is well to be on the safe side; and although I attached little importance to the bygone outrage of which the ambassador spoke, I did not suppose that the police service would be very efficient. In fact, I thought it prudent to be ready for any trouble that the Old World notions of the Neopalians might occasion. But in my heart I meant to be very popular with them; for I cherished the generous design of paying the whole tribute out of my own pocket, and of disestablishing in Neopalia what seems to be the only institution in no danger of such treatment here—the tax-gatherer. If they understood that intention of mine, they would hardly be so shortsighted as to set me adrift in my shirt like a second Baron d'Ezonville, or so unjust as to kill poor old Stefanopoulos as they had killed his ancestor. Besides, as I comforted myself by repeating, they were a good-hearted race; unsophisticated, of course, but thoroughly good-hearted.
My cousin, young Denny Swinton, was to dine with me that evening at the Optimum. Denny (which is short for Dennis) was the only member of the family who thoroughly sympathized with me about Neopalia. He was wild with interest in the island, and I looked forward to telling him all I had heard about it. I knew he would listen, for he was to go with me and help me to take possession. The boy had almost wept on my neck when I asked him to come; he had just left Woolwich, and was not to join his regiment for six months. He was thus, as he put it, "at a loose end," and succeeded in persuading his parents that he ought to learn modern Greek. General Swinton was rather cold about the project; he said that Denny had spent ten years on ancient Greek, and knew nothing about it, and would not probably learn much of the newer sort in three months; but his wife thought it would be a nice trip for Denny. Well, it turned out to be a very nice trip for Denny; but if Mrs. Swinton had known—however, if it comes to that, I might just as well exclaim, "If I had known, myself!"
Denny had taken a table next but one to the west end of the room, and was drumming his fingers impatiently on the cloth when I entered. He wanted both his dinner and the latest news about Neopalia; so I sat down and made haste to satisfy him in both respects. Travelling with equal steps through the two matters, we had reached the first entrée and the fate of the murdered Stefanopoulos (which Denny, for some reason, declared was "a lark") when two people came in and sat down at the table beyond ours and next to the wall, where two chairs had been tilted up in token of preëngagement. The man—for the pair were man and woman—was tall and powerfully built; his complexion was dark, and he had good, regular features; he looked, also, as if he had a bit of temper somewhere about him. I was conscious of having seen him before, and suddenly recollected that by a curious chance I had run up against him twice in St. James's Street that very day. The lady was handsome; she had an Italian cast of face, and moved with much grace. Her manner was rather elaborate, and when she spoke to the waiter, I detected a pronounced foreign accent. Taken altogether, they were a remarkable couple, and presented a distinguished appearance. I believe I am not a conceited man, but I could not help wondering whether their thoughts paid me a similar compliment, for I certainly detected both of them casting more than one curious glance toward our table; and when the man whispered once to a waiter, I was sure that I formed the subject of his question. Perhaps he, also, remembered our two encounters.
"I wonder if there's any chance of a row?" said Denny, in a tone that sounded wistful. "Going to take anybody with you, Charlie?"
"Only Watkins. I must have him; he always knows where everything is; and I've told Hogvardt, my old dragoman, to meet us in Rhodes. He'll talk their own language to the beggars, you know."
"But he's a German, isn't he?"