"You know what she said, though."
"That is between my Lord Constantine and me."
"And the young lady knows it, I hope—the Lady Euphrosyne?"
Vlacho smiled broadly.
"We could not distress her with such a silly tale," he answered; and he leant down toward me. "Nobody has heard the message but the lord and one man he told it to; and nobody will. If that old woman spoke, she—well, she knows, and will not speak."
"And you back up this murderer?" I cried.
"Murderer?" he repeated, questioningly. "Indeed, sir, it was an accident, done in hot blood. It was the old man's fault, because he tried to sell the island."
"He did sell the island," I corrected. "And a good many other people will hear of what happened to him."
He looked at me again, smiling.