MARO AND TYRUS.
Having beaten off the two Greeks, neither of the boys had a thought of
surrendering the girl. They were determined to protect her, no matter
what happened, until they could get word to Cavendish, who, she
asserted, was somewhere in Athens.
Tyrus made no objection when he saw the lads and the old professor
departing with the girl in their midst. He sat up, staring after them, a
wicked look on his face.
Barely had Zenas, the boys, and the girl disappeared from view when Maro
reappeared amid the ruins of the Parthenon and ran swiftly to the spot
where Tyrus sat.
“Why do you sit thus?” he demanded. “Did you not see them taking Flavia
away?”
“I saw them,” was the gruff answer.
“Then why did you permit it?”
“Why did you permit it?”
“You are her uncle.”
“You are her lover.”
“But you have the power.”
“It is, indeed, little power I had after being dashed against this slab
of marble.”
“But yours is the authority.”
“They are Americans.”
“What of that?”
“Americans recognize no authority but that of might. They are wonderful
fighters.”
“They fight like fiends!” exclaimed Maro. “Who could think that those
boys would dare attack us! And I was armed with a knife.”
“Little good it did you,” returned Tyrus, with a touch of scorn. “I had
no weapon, and I would have mastered one of them had not the old man
attacked me, scratching and clawing like a cat.”
“But you are going to let them carry Flavia away?”
“You have as much right to stop them as I have.”
“No, no!” almost shouted Maro, in great exasperation. “You have the
right, for you are her uncle. You must do it!”
“I like not your language, Maro. No man has ever told me I must do a
thing.”
“But you let them walk away with her?”
“Because the young man, strong and able to battle for his rights, fled
and sought shelter in hiding. Maro, I sadly fear I have been much
mistaken in you. I fear you are a coward.”
The younger man flushed with mingled anger and shame.
“What was I to do?” he demanded, seeking to justify himself in the eyes
of Tyrus. “I saw that you were stretched prone upon the ground, and I
feared you had been slain. I was disarmed, and that terrible American
boy was hitting me so fast that the blows could not be counted. I knew
that, in another moment, I would have all three of them upon me. I fled
to save my life.”
“You saved it,” said Tyrus, still with that biting touch of scorn. “You
saved your life, but it may be that you have lost Flavia.”
“Never!” grated Maro. “I will follow and take her from them!”
“Alone?” asked Tyrus, with that same manner. “You ran from one of them,
but now you propose to follow and conquer all three of them. Indeed,
Maro, your words and your behavior are inconsistent.”
“We are losing time!” exclaimed Maro.
“We? Why, I thought you were going to do it quite alone.”
“It is you who must lodge the complaint against them, as you did against
the Englishman, for you are the uncle and guardian of Flavia.”
“Oh, so you advise that we seek the assistance of the law?”
“It is the better way.”
“In truth I doubted if you actually intended to attack those American
fighters, even though you spoke so boldly. You have had quite enough of
that, Maro. You still insist that Flavia must be your bride, even though
you know now that she scorns you and would prefer death?”
“She is my light, my life! I must have her! You have given me your word
that she shall be mine.”
“But I had no thought that she would make such a terrible resistance.
She has ever been a good and dutiful girl since her father left her in
my hands. I knew she was averse to you, Maro, but I fancied you could
overcome her aversion, or that she would dutifully submit at my command.
She has in her the spirit of her father’s family. He married my sister
even though I hated him and sought to prevent the union. Maro, he loved
her, which I hold to his credit. He was a good husband to her, and he
nearly died of grief when she passed from earth and left little Flavia.
It was for Flavia that he lived. Otherwise I believe he would have taken
his life that he might join her. But when he met reverses and lost most
of his little fortune, he felt that bad fortune had placed a blight on
him while he remained in his native land. He found an opportunity to go
to India, and he left Flavia with me, charging me to be like a father to
her. It is now said by this Englishman that he has prospered in life,
and by this Englishman he sends a message which tells me to let Flavia
return to him in care of the Englishman.”
“A trick! a trick!” cried Maro fiercely. “The letter was a forgery!”
“How do you know?”
“The Englishman and Flavia met before he presented that letter.”
“Which is true.”
“She fell in love with him.”
“Her behavior seems to denote it,” confessed Tyrus.
“She knew I wished to marry her and that you favored me.”
“Go on.”
“The Englishman smiled on her. She was deceived. She told him of her
father. Perhaps she gave him some letters from her father. Either the
Englishman forged the letter, or he employed an expert to accomplish it.
In this manner he means to steal her from you and from me.”
“It is possible you speak the truth.”
“I know I speak the truth! I feel it here in my heart! He is deceiving
her. He would take her away, pretending that it is his intention to
conduct her to her father; but in truth he has no such intention, and
when he becomes tired of her he will desert her. I am right, Tyrus. She
will be left to die in some foreign land by this young dog of an
Englishman, whose father is rich and who has money to fling about with a
lavish hand. It is your duty—and mine—to save her from such a fate!
Arouse yourself, Tyrus! Bestir yourself, and let’s do something without
delay. The Englishman has been placed beneath arrest. It is our next
move to enter complaint against the Americans and have them arrested
also. It can be done.”
Tyrus bowed gravely.
“It can be done,” he agreed; “and, as you say, it may be our duty to see
that it is done.”
“Then delay not. Every moment is precious.”
“Give me your hand,” said the elder man.
Maro assisted him to rise.
“It was a terrible shock I received,” muttered Tyrus, moving his
shoulders and making a wry face. “It is most remarkable that my neck was
not broken. Even now to move at all causes me discomfort, and to-morrow
I fancy I will be exceedingly lame.”
“Think not of yourself,” urged Maro, burning with impatience and seeking
to pull Tyrus onward. “Think of Flavia and your duty to her. Hasten!”
“Wait a little,” said the elder man. “I am dizzy. My head reels. It is a
singular sensation, for all my life I have been strong as the horse.”
Indeed, he swayed and might have fallen but for the supporting arm of
the young man.
“Oh, these Americans!” he muttered. “Even mere boys, scarce escaped from
the nursery, seem to have the courage, skill and strength of men. What a
wonderful people they must be!”
“Bah! I admire them not, for ever it is that an American and an
Englishman will unite against one of any other nation. They speak one
language, and there is between them a bond of sympathy stronger than
they themselves dream. Has the Astrologer of Minerva not said that some
day they will unite and rule the world. I admire them not, I tell you!
Come, Tyrus, they will escape with Flavia, and we——”
“We will find them, never fear. They shall soon be placed in confinement
and kept there until Flavia is yours. I think I can walk now.”
“Then hasten, hasten!” urged the impatient and baffled lover.