A STROKE IN THE GAME
I was glad. As soon as I was alone and had time to think over
Mouraki’s _coup_ I was glad. He had ended a false position into which
my weakness had led me; he had rendered it possible for me to serve
Phroso in friendship pure and simple; he had decided a struggle which
I had failed to decide for myself. It would be easy now (so I told
myself) for both of us to repose on that fiction of a good-natured
device and leave our innermost feelings in decent obscurity while we
counter-mined the scheme which the Pasha had in hand. This scheme he
proceeded to forward with all the patience and ability of which he was
master. For the next week or so matters seemed to stand still, but to
a closer study they revealed slow, yet uninterrupted, movement. I was
left almost entirely alone at the house; but I could not bring myself
to abandon my position and seek the society of my friends on the
yacht. Though reduced to idleness and robbed of any part in the drama,
I would not forsake the stage, but lagged a superfluous spectator of
an unpleasing piece. Mouraki was at work. He saw Phroso every day, and
for long interviews. I hardly set my eyes on her. The affairs of the
island afforded him a constant pretext for conferring with, or
dictating to, its Lady; I had no excuse for forcing an intercourse
which Phroso evidently was at pains to avoid. I could imagine the
Pasha’s progress, not in favour or willing acceptance, for I knew her
fear and hatred of him, but in beating down her courage and creating a
despair which would serve him as well as love. Beyond doubt he was
serious in his design; his cool patience spoke settled purpose, his
obvious satisfaction declared a conviction of success. He acquiesced
in Phroso’s seclusion, save when he sent for her; he triumphed in
watching me spend weary hours in solitary pacing up and down before
the house; he would look at me with a covert exultation and amuse
himself by a renewal of sympathetic congratulations on my engagement.
I do not think that he wished me away. I was the sauce to his dish,
the garlic in the salad, the spice in the sweetmeat over which he
licked appreciative lips. Thus passed eight or ten days, and I grew
more out of temper, more sour, and more determined with every setting
sun. Denny ceased to pray my company; I was not to be moved from the
neighbourhood of the house. I waited, the Pasha waited; he paved his
way, I lay in ambush by it; he was bent on conquering Phroso, I had no
design, only a passionate resolve that he should try a fall with me
first.
There came a dark stormy evening, when the clouds sent down a thick
close rain and the wind blew in mournful gusts. Having escaped from
Mouraki’s talk, I had watched him go upstairs, and myself had come out
to pace again my useless beat. I strayed a few hundred yards from the
house, and turned to look at the light in the Governor’s window. It
shone bright and steady, seeming to typify his relentless unvarying
purpose. A sudden oath escaped from the weary sickness of my heart;
there came an unlooked-for answer at my elbow.
‘He acts, you talk, my lord. He works, you are content to curse him.
Which will win?’ said a grave voice; and Kortes’s handsome figure was
dimly visible in the darkness. ‘He works, she weeps, you curse. Who
will win?’ he asked again, folding his arms.
‘Your question carries its own answer, doesn’t it?’ I retorted
angrily.
‘Yes, if I have put it right,’ said he; there was a touch of scorn in
his voice that I did not care to hear. ‘Yes, it carries its own
answer, if you are content to leave it as I stated it.’
‘Content! Good God!’
He drew nearer to me and whispered:
‘This morning he told her his purpose; this evening again--yes, now,
while we talk--he is forcing it on her. And what help has she?’
‘She won’t let me help her; she won’t let me see her.’
‘How can you help her, you who do nothing but curse?’
‘Look here, Kortes,’ said I, ‘I know all that. I’m a fool and a worm
and everything else you like to intimate; but your contempt doesn’t
seem much more practical than my cursing. What’s in your mind?’
‘You must keep faith with this lady in your own land?’
‘You know of her?’
‘My sister has told me--she who waits on the Lady Euphrosyne.’
‘Ah! Yes, I must keep faith with her.’
‘And with Mouraki?’ he asked.
My mind travelled with his. I caught him eagerly by the arm. I had his
idea in a moment.
‘Why that?’ I asked. ‘Yes, Kortes, why that?’
‘I thought you were so scrupulous, my lord.’
‘I have no scruples in deceiving this Mouraki.’
‘That’s better, my lord,’ he answered with a grim smile. ‘By heavens,
I thought we were to dance together at the wedding!’
‘The wedding?’ I cried. ‘I think not. Kortes, do you mean--?’ I made a
gesture that indicated some violence to Mouraki; but I added, ‘It must
be open fight though.’
‘You mustn’t touch a hair of his head. The island would answer
bitterly for that.’
We stood in silence for a moment. Then I gave a short laugh.
‘My character is my own,’ said I. ‘I may blacken it if I like.’
‘It is only in the eyes of Mouraki Pasha,’ said Kortes with a smile.
‘But will she understand? There must be no more--’
‘She will understand. You shall see her.’
‘You can contrive that?’
‘Yes, with my sister’s help. Will you tell Mouraki first?’
‘No--her first. She may refuse.’
‘She loathes him too much to refuse anything.’
‘Good. When, then?’
‘To-night. She will leave him soon.’
‘But he watches her to her room.’
‘Yes; but you, my lord, know that there is another way.’
‘Yes, yes; by the roof. The ladder?’
‘It shall be there for you in an hour.’
‘And you, Kortes?’
‘I’ll wait at the foot of it. The Pasha himself should not mount it
alive.’
‘Kortes, it is trusting me much.’
‘I know, my lord. If you were not a man to be trusted you would do
what you are going to pretend.’
‘I hope you’re right. Kortes, it sets me aflame now to be near her.’
‘Can’t I understand that, my lord?’ said he, with a sad smile.
‘By heaven, you’re a good fellow!’
‘I am a servant of the Stefanopouloi.’
‘Your sister will tell her before I come? I couldn’t tell her myself.’
‘Yes; she shall be told before you come.’
‘In an hour, then?’
‘Yes.’ And without another word, he strode by me. I caught his hand as
he went, and pressed it. Then I was alone in the darkness again, but
with a plan in my head and a weapon in my hand, and no more empty
useless cursings in my mouth. Busily rehearsing the part I was to
play, I resumed my quick pacing. It was a hard part, but a good part.
I would match Mouraki with his own weapons; my cynicism should beat
his, my indifference to the claims of honour overtop his shameless
use of terror or of force. The smiles should now be not all the
Pasha’s. I would have a smile too, one that would, I trusted, compel a
scowl even from his smooth inscrutable face.
I was walking quickly; on a sudden I came almost in contact with a
man, who leapt on one side to avoid me. ‘Who’s there?’ I cried,
standing on my defence, as I had learnt was wise in Neopalia.
‘It is I, Demetri,’ answered a sullen voice.
‘What are you doing here, Demetri? And with your gun!’
‘I walk by night, like my lord.’
‘Your walks by night have had a meaning before now.’
‘They mean no harm to you now.’
‘Harm to any one?’
A pause followed before his gruff voice answered:
‘Harm to nobody. What harm can be done when my gracious lord the
Governor is on the island and watches over it?’
‘True, Demetri. He has small mercy for wrongdoers and turbulent
fellows such as some I know of.’
‘I know him as well as you, my lord, and better,’ said the fellow.
His voice was charged with a passionate hate. ‘Yes, there are many in
Neopalia who know Mouraki.’
‘So says Mouraki; and he says it as though it pleased him.’
‘One day he shall have proof enough to satisfy him,’ growled Demetri.
The savage rage of the fellow’s tone had caught my attention, and I
gazed intently into his face; not even the darkness quite hid the
angry gleam of his deep-set eyes.
‘Demetri, Demetri,’ said I, ‘aren’t you on a dangerous path? I see a
long knife in your belt there, and that gun--isn’t it loaded? Come, go
back to your home.’
He seemed influenced by my remonstrances, but he denied the suggestion
I made.
‘I don’t seek his life,’ he said sullenly. ‘If we were strong enough
to fight openly--well, I say nothing of that. He killed my brother, my
lord.’
‘I killed a brother of yours too, Demetri.’
‘Yes, in honest fighting, when he sought to kill you. You didn’t half
kill him with the lash, before his mother’s eyes, and finish the work
with a rope.’
‘Mouraki did?’
‘Yes, my lord. But it is nothing, my lord. I mean no harm.’
‘Look here, Demetri. I don’t love Mouraki myself, and you did me a
good turn a little while ago; but if I find you hanging about here
again with your gun and your knife I’ll tell Mouraki, as sure as I’m
alive. Where I come from we don’t assassinate. Do you see?’
‘I hear, my lord. Indeed I had no such purpose.’
‘You know your purpose best; and now you know what I shall do. Come,
be off with you, and don’t shew yourself here again.’
He cringed before me with renewed protestations; but his invention
provided no excuse for his presence. He swore to me that I wronged
him. I contented myself with ordering him off, and at last he went
off, striking back towards the village. ‘Upon my word,’ said I, ‘it’s
a nuisance to be honourably brought up.’ For it would have been
marvellously convenient to let Demetri have a shot at the Pasha with
that gun of his, or a stab with the long knife he had fingered so
affectionately.
This encounter had passed the time of waiting, and now I strolled back
to the house. It was hard on midnight. The light in Mouraki’s window
was extinguished. Two soldiers stood sentry by the closed door. They
let me in and locked the door behind me. This watch was not kept on
me; Mouraki knew very well that I had no desire to leave the island.
Phroso was the prisoner and the prize that the Pasha guarded; perhaps,
also, he had an inkling that he was not popular in Neopalia, and that
he would not be wise to trust to the loyalty of its inhabitants.
Soon I found myself in the compound at the back of the house. The
ladder was placed ready; Kortes stood beside it. There seemed to be
nobody else about. The rain still fell, and the wind had risen till it
whistled wildly in the wood.
‘She’s waiting for you,’ whispered Kortes. ‘She knows and she will
second the plan.’
‘Where is she?’
‘On the roof. She’s wrapped in my cloak; she will take no hurt.’
‘And Mouraki?’
‘He’s gone to bed. She was with him two hours.’
I mounted the ladder and found myself on the flat roof, where once
Phroso had stood gazing up towards the cottage on the hill. We were
fighting Constantine then; Mouraki was our foe now. Constantine lay a
prisoner, harmless, as it seemed, and helpless. I prayed for a like
good fortune in the new enterprise. An instant later I found Phroso’s
hand in mine. I carried it to my lips, as I murmured my greeting in a
hushed voice. The first answer was a nervous sob, but Phroso followed
it with a pleading apology.
‘I’m so tired,’ she said, ‘so tired. I have fought him for two hours
to-night. Forgive me. I will be brave, my lord.’
I had determined on a cold business-like manner. I went as straight to
the point as a busy man in his city office.
‘You know the plan? You consent to it?’ I asked.
‘Yes. I think I understand it. It is good of you, my lord. For you may
run great danger through me.’
That was indeed true, and in more senses than one.
‘I do for you what you did not hesitate to do for me,’ said I.
‘Yes,’ said Phroso in a very low whisper.
‘You pretended; well then, now I pretend.’ My voice sounded not only
cold, but bitter and unpleasant. ‘I think it may succeed,’ I
continued. ‘He won’t dare to take any extreme steps against me. I
don’t see how he can prevent our going.’
‘He will let us go, you think?’
‘I don’t know how he can refuse. And where will you go?’
‘I have some friends at Athens, people who knew my father.’
‘Good. I’ll take you there and--’ I paused. ‘I’ll--I’ll take you there
and--’ Again I paused; I could not help it. ‘And leave you there in
safety,’ I ended at last in a gruff harsh whisper.
‘Yes, my lord. And then you will go home in safety?’
‘Perhaps. That doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes, it does matter,’ said she, softly. ‘For I would not be in safety
unless you were.’
‘Ah, Phroso, don’t do that,’ I groaned inwardly.
‘Yes, you will go back in safety, back to your own land, back to the
lady--’
‘Never mind--’ I began.
‘Back to the lady whom my lord loves,’ whispered Phroso. ‘Then you
will forget this troublesome island and the troublesome--the
troublesome people on it.’
Her face was no more than a foot from mine--pale, with sad eyes and a
smile that quivered on trembling lips; the fairest face in the world
that I had seen or believed any man to have seen; and her hand rested
in mine. There may live men who would have looked over her head and
not in those eyes--saints or dolts; I was neither; not I. I looked. I
looked as though I should never look elsewhere again, nor cared to
live if I could not look. But Phroso’s hand was drawn from mine and
her eyes fell. I had to end the silence.
‘I shall go straight to Mouraki to-morrow morning,’ said I, ‘and tell
him you have agreed to be my wife; that you will come with me under
the care of Kortes and his sister, and that we shall be married on the
first opportunity.’
‘But he knows about--about the lady you love.’
‘It won’t surprise Mouraki to hear that I am going to break my faith
with--the lady I love,’ said I.
‘No,’ said Phroso, refusing resolutely to look at me again. ‘It won’t
surprise Mouraki.’
‘Perhaps it wouldn’t surprise any one.’
Phroso made no comment on this; and the moment I had said it I heard a
voice below, a voice I knew very well.
‘What’s the ladder here for, my friend?’ it asked.
‘It enables one to ascend or descend, my lord,’ answered Kortes’s
grave voice, without the least touch of irony.
‘It’s Mouraki,’ whispered Phroso; at the time of danger her frightened
eyes came back to mine, and she drew nearer to me. ‘It’s Mouraki, my
lord.’
‘I know it is,’ said I; ‘so much the better.’
‘That seems probable,’ observed Mouraki. ‘But to enable whom to ascend
and descend, friend Kortes?’
‘Anyone who desires, my lord.’
‘Then I will ascend,’ said Mouraki.
‘A thousand pardons, my lord!’
‘Stand aside, sir. What, you dare--’
‘Run back to your room,’ I whispered. ‘Quick. Good-night.’ I caught
her hand and pressed it. She turned and disappeared swiftly through
the door which gave access to the inside of the house and thence to
her room; and I--glad that the interview had been interrupted, for I
could have borne little more of it--walked to the battlements and
looked over. Kortes stood like a wall between the astonished Mouraki
and the ladder.
‘Kortes, Kortes,’I cried in a tone of grieved surprise, ‘is it
possible that you don’t recognise his Excellency?’
‘Why, Wheatley!’ cried Mouraki.
‘Who else should it be, my dear Pasha? Will you come up, or shall I
come down and join you? Out of the way, Kortes.’
Kortes, who would not obey Mouraki, obeyed me. Mouraki seemed to
hesitate about mounting. I solved the difficulty by descending
rapidly. I was smiling, and I took the Pasha by the arm, saying with a
laugh:
[Illustration: “A THOUSAND PARDONS, MY LORD!”]
‘Caught that time, I’m afraid, eh? Well, I meant to tell you soon.’
I had certainly succeeded in astonishing Mouraki this time. Kortes
added to his wonder by springing nimbly up the ladder, and pulling it
up after him.
‘I thought you were in bed,’ said I. ‘And when the cat’s away the mice
will play, you know. Well, we’re caught!’
‘We?’ asked the Pasha.
‘Well, do you suppose I was alone? Is it the sort of night a man
chooses to spend alone on a roof?’
‘Who was with you then?’ he asked, suspicion alive in his crafty eyes.
I took him by the arm and led him into the house, through the kitchen,
till we reached the hall, when I said:
‘Am I not a man of taste? Who should it be?’
He sat down in the great armchair, and a heavy frown gathered on his
brow. I cannot quite explain why, but I was radiant. The spirit of the
game had entered into me; I forgot the reality that was so full of
pain; I was as merry as though what I told him had been the happy
truth, instead of a tantalising impossible vision.
‘Oh, don’t misunderstand me,’ I laughed, standing opposite to him,
swaying on my feet, and burying my hands in my pockets. ‘Don’t wrong
me, my dear Pasha. It’s all just as it should be. There’s nothing
going on that should not go on under your Excellency’s roof. It is all
on the most honourable footing.’
‘I don’t understand your riddles or your mirth,’ said Mouraki.
‘Ah! Now once I didn’t quite appreciate yours. The wheel goes round,
my dear Pasha. Every dog has his day. Forgive me, I am naturally
elated. I meant to tell you at breakfast to-morrow, but since you
surprised our tender meeting, why, I’ll tell you now. Congratulate me.
That charming girl has owned that her avowal of love for me was
nothing but bare truth, and has consented to make me happy.’
‘To marry you?’
‘My dear Pasha! What else could I mean?’ I took my hands out of my
pockets, lit a cigarette and puffed the smoke luxuriously. Mouraki sat
motionless in his chair, his eyes cold and sharp on me, his brow
puckered. At last he spoke.
‘And Miss Hipgrave?’ he asked sneeringly.
‘Is there a breach of promise of marriage law in Neopalia?’ said I.
‘In truth, my dear Pasha, I am a little to blame there; but you
mustn’t be hard on me. I had a moment of conscientious qualms. I
confess it. But she’s too lovely, she really is. And she’s so fond of
me--oh, I couldn’t resist it!’ I was simpering like any affected young
lady-killer.
Mouraki was a clever fellow, but the blow had been a sudden one. It
strains the control even of clever fellows when a formidable obstacle
springs up, at a moment’s notice, on a path that they have carefully
prepared and levelled for their steps. The Pasha’s rage mastered him.
‘You’ve changed your mind rapidly, Lord Wheatley,’ said he.
‘I know nothing,’ I rejoined, ‘that does change a man’s mind so
quickly as a pretty girl.’
‘Yet some men hold to their promises,’ said he with a savage sneer.
‘Oh, a few, perhaps; very few in these days.’
‘And you don’t aspire to be one?’
‘Oh, I aspired,’ said I with a laugh; ‘but my aspirations have not
stood out against Phroso’s charms.’
Then I took a step nearer to him, and, veiling impertinence under a
thin show of sympathy, I said:
‘I hope you’re not really annoyed? You weren’t serious in the hint you
gave of your own intentions? I thought you were only joking, you
know. If you were serious, believe me I am grieved. But it must be
every man for himself in these little matters, mustn’t it?’
He had borne as much as he could. He rose suddenly to his feet and an
oath escaped from between his teeth.
‘You sha’n’t have her!’ said he. ‘You think you can laugh at me: men
who think that find out their mistake.’
I laughed again. I did not shrink from exasperating him to the
uttermost. He would be no more dangerous; he might be less discreet.
‘Pardon me,’ said I, ‘but I don’t perceive how we need your
permission, glad as we should, of course, be of your felicitations.’
‘I have some power in Neopalia,’ he reminded me, with a threatening
gleam in his eye.
‘No doubt, but the power has to be carefully exercised when British
subjects are in question--men, if I may add so much, of some position.
I can’t be considered an islander of Neopalia for all purposes, my
dear Pasha.’
He seemed not to hear or not to heed what I said; but he both heard
and heeded, or I mistook my man.
‘I don’t give up what I have resolved upon,’ said he.
‘You describe my own temper to a nicety,’ said I. ‘Now I have resolved
to marry Phroso.’
‘No,’ said Mouraki. I greeted the word with a scornful shrug.
‘You understand?’ he continued. ‘It shall not be.’
‘We shall see,’ said I.
‘You don’t know the risk you’re running.’
‘Come, come, isn’t this rather near boasting?’ I asked contemptuously.
‘Your Excellency is a great man, no doubt, but you can’t afford to
carry out these dark designs against a man of my position.’ Then I
changed to a more friendly tone, saying, ‘My dear Pasha, had you
defeated me I should have taken it quietly. Won’t you best consult
your dignity by doing the same?’
A long silence followed. I watched his face. Very gradually his brow
cleared, his lips relaxed into a smile. He, in his turn, shrugged his
shoulders. He took a step towards me; he held out his hand.
‘Wheatley,’ said he, ‘it is true, I am a fool. A man is a fool in such
matters. You must make allowances for me. I was honestly in love with
her. I thought myself safe from you. I allowed my temper to get the
better of me. Will you shake hands?’
‘Ah, now you’re like yourself, my dear friend,’ said I, grasping his
hand.
‘We’ll speak again about it to-morrow. But my anger is over. Fear
nothing. I will be reasonable.’
I murmured grateful thanks and appreciation of his generosity.
‘Good-night, good-night,’ said he. ‘I wish I hadn’t found you
to-night. I should not have lost my composure like this at any other
time. You’re sure you forgive my hasty words?’
‘From the bottom of my heart,’ said I earnestly; and we pressed one
another’s hands. Mouraki passed on to the stairs and began to mount
them slowly. He turned his head over his shoulders and said:
‘How will you settle with Miss Hipgrave?’
‘I must beg her forgiveness, as I must yours,’ said I.
‘I hope you’ll be equally successful,’ said he, and his smile was in
working order by now. It was the last I saw of him as he disappeared
up the stairs.
‘Now,’ said I, sitting down, ‘he’s gone to think how he can get my
throat cut without a scandal.’
In fact, Mouraki and I were beginning to understand one another.