"His words were quiet, but he had a rasping way of saying them whichwas very menacing. I sat in silence wondering what on earth could behis reason for kidnapping me in this extraordinary fashion. Whatever itmight be, it was perfectly clear that there was no possible use in myresisting, and that I could only wait to see what might befall.
"For nearly two hours we drove without my having the least clue as towhere we were going. Sometimes the rattle of the stones told of a pavedcauseway, and at others our smooth, silent course suggested asphalt;but, save by this variation in sound, there was nothing at all whichcould in the remotest way help me to form a guess as to where we were.The paper over each window was impenetrable to light, and a blue curtainwas drawn across the glass work in front. It was a quarter-past sevenwhen we left Pall Mall, and my watch showed me that it was ten minutesto nine when we at last came to a standstill. My companion let downthe window, and I caught a glimpse of a low, arched doorway with a lampburning above it. As I was hurried from the carriage it swung open, andI found myself inside the house, with a vague impression of a lawnand trees on each side of me as I entered. Whether these were privategrounds, however, or bona-fide country was more than I could possiblyventure to say.
"There was a colored gas-lamp inside which was turned so low that Icould see little save that the hall was of some size and hung withpictures. In the dim light I could make out that the person who hadopened the door was a small, mean-looking, middle-aged man with roundedshoulders. As he turned towards us the glint of the light showed me thathe was wearing glasses.
"'Is this Mr. Melas, Harold?' said he.
"'Yes.'
"'Well done, well done! No ill-will, Mr. Melas, I hope, but we could notget on without you. If you deal fair with us you'll not regret it,but if you try any tricks, God help you!' He spoke in a nervous, jerkyfashion, and with little giggling laughs in between, but somehow heimpressed me with fear more than the other.
"'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 tosay, or--' here came the nervous giggle again--'you had better neverhave been born.'
"As he spoke he opened a door and showed the way into a room whichappeared to be very richly furnished, but again the only light wasafforded by a single lamp half-turned down. The chamber was certainlylarge, and the way in which my feet sank into the carpet as I steppedacross it told me of its richness. I caught glimpses of velvet chairs, ahigh white marble mantel-piece, and what seemed to be a suit of Japanesearmor at one side of it. There was a chair just under the lamp, and theelderly man motioned that I should sit in it. The younger had leftus, but he suddenly returned through another door, leading with hima gentleman clad in some sort of loose dressing-gown who moved slowlytowards us. As he came into the circle of dim light which enables me tosee him more clearly I was thrilled with hor
ror at his appearance. Hewas deadly pale and terribly emaciated, with the protruding, brillianteyes of a man whose spirit was greater than his strength. But whatshocked me more than any signs of physical weakness was that his facewas grotesquely criss-crossed with sticking-plaster, and that one largepad of it was fastened over his mouth.
"'Have you the slate, Harold?' cried the older man, as this strangebeing 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, andhe will write the answers. Ask him first of all whether he is preparedto 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 Iknow.'
"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 ourstrange half-spoken, half-written conversation. Again and again I had toask him whether he would give in and sign the documents. Again and againI had the same indignant reply. But soon a happy thought came to me. Itook to adding on little sentences of my own to each question, innocentones at first, to test whether either of our companions knew anythingof the matter, and then, as I found that they showed no signs I played amore 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.'
"'You shall go free if you sign. What house is this?'
"'I will never sign. I do not know.'
"'You are not doing her any service. What is your name?'
"'Let me hear her say so. Kratides.'
"'You shall see her if you sign. Where are you from?'