For, call them what you please, they’re criminals.

Justinian, having ascertained all particulars about the wreck of The Eunice the previous day, had sent a number of men to look after the bodies of those unfortunates who had been cast up on the beach of Melnos, and now, in company with the three young men, and the surviving sailors, went to the sea-shore in order to give the corpses decent burial. Conducted by a body of his Greeks, bearing torches, he went down through the tunnel, and speedily arrived at the outer entrance, from which a sandy beach sloped down to the harbor. Not that it was exactly a harbor, but Justinian had aided Nature to form one, by erecting a breakwater from the end of a jutting promontory, which breakwater, built of huge undressed stones, ran out in a curve into the tideless sea, and thus embraced a calm pool of water, which sufficiently protected ships at anchorage. Beyond, the ocean at times was rough enough, and at stormy seasons dashed its white waves over the rocky mole, but within that charmed circle there was no danger, and the smallest boat was as safe there as it would have been on the serene waters of a mountain lake. This was the work of the English engineer who had planned and carried out the piercing of the tunnel, and Maurice could not withhold his admiration at the perfection of the whole scheme, for without this breakwater it would have been impossible for any sized craft to cast anchor off the craggy coast of the island.

“I have two harbors of this kind,” said Justinian, as they looked at the small boats, feluccas, and caÏques which filled the pool; “one you see, the other is on the opposite side of the island. As it faces to the west, of course it suffers more from storms than this one, but I built it in order to facilitate escape in time of trouble should the tunnel be taken by assault.”

“I hardly understand.”

“There are only two ways of getting into the interior of Melnos. The one is by this tunnel, the other is a pass which cuts through the western side of the mountain where it falls away in a semicircle, as I showed you. Owing to the height of the peaks around, their ruggedness, their being covered all the year round with snow, it is impossible for any outside enemy to climb over them. This tunnel and the western pass are the only modes of ingress and egress, as I have explained. Should this tunnel therefore be forced, and we find ourselves unable to defend the island, all we have to do is to retreat through the pass I told you of, down to the harbor on the other side, where there are plenty of boats ready to take us to a place of safety. Of course I trust in the courage of my Greeks, and the difficulties an enemy would encounter in capturing the tunnel, so I hardly expect such a contingency as flight by the western pass would occur; still, it is always as well to be prepared for emergencies.”

“You have thought of everything,” said Maurice admiringly.

“Danger sharpens a man’s wits,” replied Justinian coolly; “and when I first came to Melnos, I was surrounded on all sides by rascals of the Alcibiades type.”

“Alcibiades is only a smuggler,” observed Caliphronas, who was listening to this discourse.

“Alcibiades is whatever pays him best,” retorted the king in great ire; “it is only fear of King George’s Government that keeps him from hoisting the black flag, and making these islands of the Ægean a nest of iniquity. I believe you are a filibuster at heart yourself, Andros.”

The Greek laughed consciously, but did not contradict the old man.

“I am like Alcibiades, sir,” he said at length, “and go in for what pays me best—Mr. Maurice there knows my sentiments regarding life.”

“I do; and very bad sentiments they are!”

“I wonder what you would say to the views of Alcibiades!”

“He may carry his views more into practice than you do,” retorted Maurice warmly, “but I defy them to be worse.”

Justinian laughed at the blunt way in which Maurice spoke, so Caliphronas, having his own reasons for keeping a fair face to the old man, discreetly held his peace, and they all trudged along the beach, towards the place where the bodies of the ill-fated sailors lay.

The mast of The Eunice was still above water, but the yacht herself lay far below the blue sea, where she would probably remain until there remained nothing of her save the engines, which would of course defy time and the ocean, until between them these mighty destroyers rusted them to nothing. From the position in which she lay, and the general calmness of the water, it is probable the yacht could have been set afloat again; but the Greeks of the Cyclades have not sufficient energy for such a task, and the underwriters would no doubt rather pay the insurance money than waste more in an attempt to raise the wreck from the depths below.

Twelve bodies had been thrown up by the sea, but the rest of the crew—with the exception of the ten sailors, including Gurt—were buried deep in the ocean. Far up in a sheltered nook, under the red cliffs, twelve graves had been dug in the soft sand, and in these were the ill-fated seamen laid. Martin’s body was not among them, and it doubtless lay in a sailor’s grave nigh the island, encircled by sand, seaweed, and many-colored shells. The funeral ceremony did not take long, but, as Justinian refused the office, Maurice undertook the task of chaplain, and, with a voice full of emotion, read the beautiful burial service of the Church of England over the remains of the dead sailors, which were then covered up, and roughly-made wooden crosses placed at the head of each humble grave, with the name of each and date of death carved thereon. All those present stood bareheaded during the ceremony, even the Melnosians, who were gentlemen enough not to offend the prejudices of the strangers wrecked on their rugged shores.

Everything having thus been done, in order to show respect to the dead, Justinian and his party returned to the entrance of the tunnel, and Dick, the smart young boatswain before mentioned, attached himself to Maurice, for whom he had a great admiration. Dick had received an education much above that of the average British tar, and Maurice found him a very companionable fellow, but one who bore a great hatred for Caliphronas, as he seemed to think the lively Greek was the cause of all the misfortunes which had overtaken The Eunice.

“A kind of Jonah, sir!” said Dick in a whisper, for Caliphronas was walking just ahead of them with Justinian; “if we’d a-chucked him overboard, I don’t believe the boat would have gone ashore.”

“Come, Dick, you cannot say the Count had anything to do with the storm.”

“Well, I don’t know, sir,” replied Dick doubtfully, “but I don’t believe in him one bit. Why, sir, he cut that rope on purpose!”

“I know he did!”

“D—n him!” muttered the boatswain in a tone of suppressed rage; “why don’t you have it out with him, sir?”

“I can’t very well, Dick. Doubtless he cut that rope, as you say, on purpose; but he was so overcome by terror that he might not have known what he was doing.”

“He’s a coward, sir—a miserable coward! and he wasn’t overcome so much by terror, as not to save his own life. How long do we stop here, sir?”

“I can hardly tell you. Mr. Crispin has sent to England for a new yacht, which will proceed to Athens. I expect we will be here at least a month.”

“Lord bless you, sir, I don’t mind! It’s a jolly sort of place, though I can’t say I like their sour wine, but the girls are pretty.”

“Dick, Dick, you are too inflammable! Take care you don’t get into trouble over these women. Greeks are jealous, you know!”

Dick grinned, as much as to say he considered jealousy of little moment where a pretty woman was concerned, and then asked Maurice a question which made that gentleman laugh heartily.

“You don’t happen to know a girl here called Zoe, sir?”

“Oh, Gurt has been speaking about her,” said Roylands with a smile; “she is Miss Helena’s maid, and Gurt has laid his heart at her feet.”

“She won’t have anything to say to a battered old hulk like that, sir.”

“Perhaps you think a tight young craft like you would succeed better. Now, Dick, you behave yourself. I’ve no doubt all the girls in the island are in love with you, so leave Gurt’s ewe lamb alone.”

“Oh, I’m not going to poach on Gurt’s preserves, sir,” said Dick apologetically; “but the way he brags about Zoe is sickening, and I want to have a look at her. She must be the beauty of the island.”

Maurice had his own opinion as to who was the beauty of the island, but, of course, did not impart such information to Dick, who, after respectfully saluting, fell back among his brother sailors, and began to tease the one-eyed Gurt about Zoe, a proceeding which had but little effect on that hardened mariner.

The boat which was going to Syra that day was now lying in the harbor ready to start, and Justinian went on board to give some final orders to her captain, while Crispin also accompanied him, in order to place his bundle of letters in charge of the skipper. He had told Justinian about his proposed purchase of another yacht, a proceeding of which the astute ancient much approved, as, if any of the anticipated troubles came to pass, the yacht would be useful to bring soldiers from Syra to aid him in defending the island.

“Your sailors can stay here until the new boat comes out,” said Justinian thoughtfully; “for if Caliphronas, as you call him, plays the traitor, we will require as many men as we can to defend ourselves.”

“But Alcibiades has not an army.”

“Alcibiades knows all the scum of the Levant, and I have no doubt can get a few hundred scamps together. They have no fear of the Government, for if they stormed and took Melnos, after plundering the island, they would only have to dissolve again among the population in order to escape. No one could accuse them of their teacup war.”

“But have we weapons for our men?” asked Crispin, with considerable trepidation.

Justinian smiled grimly.

“When we go back to the Acropolis, I will show you my armory. I have plenty of guns and pistols of the most modern construction, and many of my Greeks are good shots too. Oh, I haven’t neglected the useful for the ornamental, I assure you. What are you looking at?”

“Alcibiades.”

“Alcibiades!” cried Justinian, with a roar like a lion, looking towards the shore, where a number of men were standing, among them a heavy-looking fellow talking eagerly to Caliphronas. “So it is. I wonder what brings the rascal here! I must get him away from Melnos at once. Crispin, Roylands, get into the boat—there is no time to lose!”

The active old man rapidly delivered his final orders to Captain Georgios, and then hastily scrambled down to the boat, followed by the two young men. They were speedily pulled ashore, and Justinian, springing on to the rocks, strode up with a frowning face to the group surrounding Alcibiades and Caliphronas, pushing the men on either side with haughty roughness.

“Now, then, Captain Alcibiades, what do you want at Melnos?”

Maurice looked curiously at this celebrated individual, of whom he had heard so much, and beheld a squat, heavily-built man, with fiery eyes, an evil countenance, and a long black beard. He was clad in the usual dress of Greek sailors, consisting of rough blue trousers and jacket, boots of untanned leather, a red shirt, and a tasselled cap of the same color. To mark his rank, however, he wore a handsome gold-embroidered belt round his waist, in which were placed a rusty-looking knife and a brace of pistols. This, then, was the renowned Captain Kidd of these waters, who, had he lived fifty years earlier, would have been a declared pirate, but who now, owing to the establishment of New Hellas, had to carry on his rascally calling under the pious guise of smuggling and peaceful trading. With his rough dress, his squat figure, his tangled black beard, he formed a great contrast to the slender form of Caliphronas, with his clean-shaven face and dandy costume of an Albanian Palikar. Yet, in spite of the difference in good looks, the two men had the same cunning expression in their shifty eyes, and there was but little doubt that the rough blackguardism of the one was only refined into the astute scoundrelism of the other.

“Well, Alcibiades!” demanded Justinian, imperiously stamping his foot; “what do you want with me?”

“Kyrion Justinian,” said the smuggler in a cringing manner, “I but landed here to see you and the Kyrion Andros about a cargo of wine I wish to obtain for Crete. I will pay you a good price for it, as the grapes of Melnos are much thought of at Khanea.”

Justinian, on receiving this diplomatic answer, ran his fingers thoughtfully through his silver beard, and pondered as to what answer to give. He was never averse to turning an honest penny by trading, and he knew Alcibiades would pay a good price, as the wine of Melnos was much liked by the Cretans on account of its resinous taste, for the insular Greeks do not as a rule preserve their vintage in this way, which is peculiar to the mainland.

“How much do you want?” he said abruptly.

“Two hundred skins,” replied Alcibiades glibly; and named what he considered a fair price.

“Do you think I desire to make you a present of the wine?” retorted Justinian scornfully. “Double your offer.”

“Kyrion! impossible!” cried Alcibiades, throwing up his hands with a look of dismay on his crafty-looking face.

“You won’t get it for less.”

Alcibiades cast a stealthy look at Caliphronas, and considered a few moments.

“Effendi, I will do it,” he replied, with the air of one who has made a great sacrifice; “but I will be ruined—yes, ruined!”

Justinian nodded curtly, and, turning on his heel, went towards the tunnel, followed by all. Maurice, of course, had not understood a word of the preceding conversation, conducted as it was in Greek; and even Crispin found the speech of Alcibiades a little difficult at times, as that piratical individual was in the habit of mixing up his own tongue with Turkish, French, Italian, and sometimes a scrap of English.

“Crispin, walk with me—I wish to speak to you,” said Justinian; and, the poet having obeyed this command, Maurice was left in the congenial company of Alcibiades and the Count.

Captain Alcibiades kept casting curious glances at Maurice, for Caliphronas had told him about this rich Englishman, and the agreeable old pirate was wondering, in his guileless way, if it would not be possible to kidnap this wealthy foreigner, and hold him in his own little rocky island until such time as his relatives paid a good ransom. Alcibiades was a genuine brigand of the type described by M. About, and, but that he had fallen on evil times of peace and quietness, would doubtless have risen to high rank in his adored profession. With a view to satisfying himself personally as to the wealth of this traveller, Alcibiades, guessing Maurice did not know Greek, spoke to him in French, with which Maurice was sufficiently well acquainted to enable him to hold an interesting conversation with this accomplished cut-throat.cut-throat.

“Monsieur is staying here?” asked Alcibiades, blinking his little eyes.

“For a time—yes!”

“Aha! Monsieur is the friend of my dear Andros, so to myself he is also a dear friend. I lay myself at your feet, monsieur.”

“Very kind of you,” retorted Maurice, who was not at all pleased by the implied friendship.

“Monsieur is rich?”

“What’s that to do with you?”

“Eh, my faith! do not be angry, monsieur. All Englishmen are rich.”

“That is a common delusion with you foreigners. All Englishmen are not rich.”

Alcibiades shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands in the French fashion.

“Monsieur is disposed to be witty.”

By this time they had arrived at the entrance to the tunnel, and Justinian who had been in earnest conversation with Crispin, turned round sharply to Alcibiades.

“You will wait here,” he said imperiously.

“Will not my men come up in order to carry down the wine?” said Alcibiades, looking as black as thunder at this peremptory order.

“No. I will send my men down with it, and you can pay the money to Andros here.”

“But, Effendi”—

“Enough! I have spoken!”

“Holy St. Elmo! you will not let me visit your island?”

“No farther than this,” retorted Justinian significantly. “You know the proverb, Captain Alcibiades,—‘Ill to him who shows his treasure freely.’”

He turned his back on the baffled cut-throat, and ascended the stairs, followed by his own men, while Alcibiades and his ruffians remained below, evidently mad with anger at having admittance refused them. Rumor said Melnos was full of treasure, and the crafty smuggler wanted to convince himself of the truth of this with his own eyes, so the prohibition against passing the palisade made him very wrathful. The king, however, paid no attention to his black looks, but resumed his journey, with Crispin andand Maurice on either side of him. Caliphronas, on the weak pretext of asking Alcibiades some question about the wine, remained behind, a fact which was at once noted by the lynx-eyed Justinian.

“Traitor!” he growled in his deep voice, stroking his beard, as was his habit when angered; “the fox to the fox. Ah, well I know those two rascals are hatching plots against me.”

“If you think so, why do you want Caliphronas to go with Alcibiades?”

“Cannot you see, Crispin. You will never make a diplomatist. I will tell Roylands here, and I am sure he will discover my reason. Roylands, I am going to deliver this wine to Alcibiades, although I know he does not want it.”

“Why does he buy it then?”

“Because he thought it would be a good pretext to get into Melnos and spy out the weak points of our defence. Oh, I know this is so, else he would not have given me my price so freely. I knew his plan the moment he agreed to give me what I asked, which was a very large price, and one which no honest trader could afford to give. Andros also knows of this scheme. Can you guess how I found that out?”

“Yes; because Alcibiades, looked at Caliphronas before agreeing to your price.”

“Exactly!” said Justinian, with great satisfaction. “Roylands is quicker than you, my dear Crispin. When I refused to sell him the wine unless at my own price, that look to Andros was one of inquiry, and the answer was, ‘Give him what he asks, or you will not see the interior of Melnos.’ The rascals! I know their scheme, and will baffle them.”

“Yet, with all this, you propose to send Caliphronas on a trip with Alcibiades, when they will be able to bring their plot to a head,” said Crispin impatiently.

“Blind, blind, my poet! You forget Andros has not yet made up his mind on which side to be. If I give him Helena, and make him my successor, he will betray Alcibiades as readily as he would betray me if I refused. Well, the only way to meet treachery is by treachery, so I intend to lead Andros to believe that I will do what he wishes, and will then send him to cruise about with Alcibiades, quite devoted to my interest. Alcibiades, thinking Andros is on his side, will tell him all about his plans, the number of his army, and when he proposes to assault the island, all of which my good Andros will repeat to me. Once I have that information, Andros will find out that I neither trust nor like him, and that he will have neither my child nor my island.”

On hearing this treacherous scheme, Justinian fell in the estimation of Maurice, who, true Englishman as he was, liked everything to be done openly; whereas this Greco-Briton partook more of Ulyssean craft than honest, fair fighting.

“Punic faith,” he said at length, not knowing quite what remark to make.

“Punic faith with Punic neighbors,” retorted Justinian as they paused at the gate. “If I don’t baffle Andros by turning his own weapons against him, the chances are that he will side with Alcibiades, and one fine day Melnos will be attacked unawares, and we will all have our throats cut.”

“Still, your mode of defeating Caliphronas is hardly English.”

“My good sir,” said the old man, with quiet irony, “Englishmen in their time have had to do just such underhand work. You forget Lord Clive and his false treaty with the Hindoo Omichund, which bound that slippery rascal to the British interest at the time of the battle of Plassy. It promised him everything before the battle, and gave him nothing after it. That is Punic faith, and is necessary in such cases. Straightforward honesty doesn’t pay in these waters.”

“Well, do what you think best, sir,” replied Maurice, who saw Justinian was right. “It’s a case of ‘When Greek meets Greek,’ I suppose.”

“‘Then comes the tug of war,’” finished Crispin gayly. “My dear Maurice, you will be happier in the actual battle than in all the statecraft which leads to it.”

“I hope my statecraft will avert the struggle,” said Justinian sombrely; “but with an enemy like Andros to deal with, I fear for the worst.”

“What are you waiting for here?” asked Maurice, seeing they still lingered at the gate.

“For Andros,” replied Justinian quietly. “I alone possess the key, and the gate is never left unlocked. Ah, here is my Carthaginian. Now, you two gentlemen, go on, and leave me to Andros and my Punic faith.”

Maurice and the poet, followed by all the English sailors, entered the gate and resumed their ascent, while the wily Justinian waited with an inscrutable face to entrap the equally wily Caliphronas, who this time, however, had found his master in treachery.

“What do you think of Justinian, Maurice?” asked Crispin, when they were once more in the open air, standing at the head of the staircase, and watching the sailors descending to the village below.

“To speak frankly, I like Justinian.”

“In spite of his Punic faith?”

“As for that,” replied Maurice, coloring a little, “necessity knows no law; and Caliphronas is such a consummate scoundrel, that I can hardly blame Justinian for trying to beat him with his own weapons.”

“Justinian is a serpent of wisdom,” said the poet reflectively, taking off his sombrero. “You can have no idea how dexterously he manages these slippery Greeks. They have a wholesome respect for him, as they well may have, seeing that not one of them has ever yet had the better of the King of Melnos.”

“You used to speak bitterly of Justinian yourself, Crispin. Are your opinions changed?”

“Yes; I must admit they have changed, and for the better. What you told me the other day about Justinian desiring me for his successor has opened my eyes. It was a fear of losing me that made him refuse to tell me my real name, for he thought I would forsake him and go back to my kinsfolk.”

“Well, you have certainly forsaken him.”

“Yes; but I don’t think he regrets it, as he sees I am not made of the stuff necessary to rule this colony of serpents; so now he has no further reason to keep me in the dark, and will, I feel sure, tell me what I wish to know before we leave Melnos.”

“But you said Justinian thought you were not brave enough.”

“So he did! so he does! But I fancy I am indebted to my dear friend the Count for that. In all our expeditions with Alcibiades, Justinian was absent, so he could not have personally seen me fighting, and I can only think that Caliphronas, to oust me out of the possible throne, told this about me.”

“I am sure you are not a coward,” said Maurice warmly.

“No, I don’t think I am,” replied Crispin equably. “I fancy if Justinian had seen the storm he would have changed his opinion about Caliphronas; but, as to myself, I hope yet to right myself in the eyes of the old man. I am glad you have such a good opinion of me, Maurice.”

“My dear fellow,” cried Roylands, grasping him by the hand, “I have the best possible opinion of you in every way, and always had!”

“Even when I was a mystery?”

“Yes; though I own you were puzzling at times. But you are a coward in one way, Crispin.”

The poet flushed redly, and Maurice hastened to finish his sentence.

“In the presence of Mrs. Dengelton.”

“He would be a bold man who felt no fear in the presence of that lady,” answered Crispin, his face clearing again. “But here comes Caliphronas with a smiling face.”

“A sign that Justinian has succeeded.”

The Greek advanced towards them with a merry laugh, and looked triumphantly at Maurice, who bore his insolent self-complacency with wonderful composure.

“I will not see you two gentlemen for a few days,” he said gayly. “I am going on a cruise with Alcibiades.”

“More piracy?”

“Perhaps,” answered Caliphronas mysteriously. “Good-by for the present. I must go down to look after the wine, and if you go back to the Acropolis, tell Helena I will see her before I go.”

With a jeering look at Maurice the duped scoundrel sprang down the steps, his snowy fustanella fluttering in the breeze, and he glittered down the descent like a brilliant falling star.

“You fool!” said a voice behind them, and they turned to behold Justinian with a complacent smile on his face.

“Well, you have succeeded, sir,” observed Maurice doubtfully.

“I have. Caliphronas thinks he has it all his own way. I see you don’t yet like my tactics.”

“Well, sir”—

“Tush!” replied Justinian coolly. “Punic foes—Punic faith!”