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Page 106
"'What do you want with me?' I asked.
"'Only to ask a few questions of a Greek gentleman who
is visiting us, and to let us have the answers. But
say no more than you are told to say, or--' here came
the nervous giggle again--'you had better never have
been born.'
"As he spoke he opened a door and showed the way into
a room which appeared to be very richly furnished, but
again the only light was afforded by a single lamp
half-turned down. The chamber was certainly large,
and the way in which my feet sank into the carpet as I
stepped across it told me of its richness. I caught
glimpses of velvet chairs, a high white marble
mantel-piece, and what seemed to be a suit of Japanese
armor at one side of it. There was a chair just under
the lamp, and the elderly man motioned that I should
sit in it. The younger had left us, but he suddenly
returned through another door, leading with him a
gentleman clad in some sort of loose dressing-gown who
moved slowly towards us. As he came into the circle
of dim light which enables me to see him more clearly
I was thrilled with horror at his appearance. He was
deadly pale and terribly emaciated, with the
protruding, brilliant eyes of a man whose spirit was
greater than his strength. But what shocked me more
than any signs of physical weakness was that his face
was grotesquely criss-crossed with sticking-plaster,
and that one large pad of it was fastened over his
mouth.
"'Have you the slate, Harold?' cried the older man, as
this strange being fell rather than sat down into a
chair. 'Are his hands loose? Now, then, give him the
pencil. You are to ask the questions, Mr. Melas, and
he will write the answers. Ask him first of all
whether he is prepared to sign the papers?'
"The man's eyes flashed fire.
"'Never!' he wrote in Greek upon the slate.
"'On no condition?' I asked, at the bidding of our
tyrant.
"'Only if I see her married in my presence by a Greek
priest whom I know.'
"The man giggled in his venomous way.
"'You know what awaits you, then?'
"'I care nothing for myself.'
"These are samples of the questions and answers which
made up our strange half-spoken, half-written
conversation. Again and again I had to ask him
whether he would give in and sign the documents.
Again and again I had the same indignant reply. But
soon a happy thought came to me. I took to adding on
little sentences of my own to each question, innocent
ones at first, to test whether either of our
companions knew anything of the matter, and then, as I
found that they showed no signs I played a more
dangerous game. Our conversation ran something like
this:
"'You can do no good by this obstinacy. Who are you?'
"'I care not. I am a stranger in London.'
"'Your fate will be upon your own head. How long have
you been here?'
"'Let it be so. Three weeks.'
"'The property can never be yours. What ails you?'
"'It shall not go to villains. They are starving me.'
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