Follow a Stranger

hands moving in vivid emphasis. Kate saw him shooting

those black eyes at her, and looked nervously up at Marc.

He laughed, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “He

says he does not like young ladies coming here because

Pyrakis always falls madly in love with them, especially

when they are blonde and beautiful, like you!” And his

grey eyes glinted wickedly.

She blushed and stammered, “I don’t believe he said

anything of the sort!” She moved away, so that his arm

slid off her shoulder.

Marc’s eyes continued to laugh at her. He spoke again

to the old man, grinning, and the old man laughed, deep

in his throat.

He talked gutturally, gesticulating, and Marc laughed.

Then they walked into the cool, shadowy hall and the old

man shuffled away, his great hooked nose like an eagle’s

beak, in profile.

Kate stared around her in fascination. The floor of the

hall was tiled in black and white marble. A gold-painted

tub stood in one corner, full of tall waving ferns, and

opposite her hung a gilded mirror in which her own face

swam, like a translucent mermaid’s, against the dim

background of the hall.

“That is Kyril. He has been with Spiro for years and is

devoted to him, in a fierce, scornful way. They shout at

each other and swear to kill each other, but they are

inseparable.” Marc came up behind her, staring over her

shoulder at her face in the mirror.

Their eyes met. Hers fell away, shyly, at something

odd in his. Then Kyril came back and led them down the