. No good fooling about. In for a
penny, in for a pound. Could it be managed? He decided it could. It was
evident Mr. Dainopoulos knew something about it but had no intention of
taking an active part in the adventure. Mr. Spokesly realized he himself
had no notion where the _Kalkis_ was going after discharging in Phyros.
It seemed Evanthia did, or had some notion of it. Yes, it could be
managed. His hand closed over hers as it lay on the table.

"I'll fix everything," he said. "You be ready and I'll do the rest."

Her face grew radiant. She became herself again--a woman who had got
what she wanted. She rose and stroked his hair gently as she bent over
him.

"Now I get some breakfast, _mon cher_," she twittered sweetly. "You stop
here. I call you." And with a soft, sibilant flip-flop of her heelless
slippers, which showed her own pink heels and delicate ankles, she
disappeared.

And Mr. Spokesly, who had come home from distant places to join the
forces, who had become engaged in an exemplary way to a girl who was now
wondering, away in beleaguered England, why Reggie didn't write, tilted
his chair a little and allowed his mind to go forward. When he asked
himself what would be the upshot of this adventure, he was compelled to
admit that he didn't know. What startled and invigorated him was that he
didn't care. He saw himself, as they say, on deck in fine weather, a
full moon pouring her glorious radiance down upon them, and Evanthia
beside him in a deck chair under the awning. He saw himself in some
distant harbour, after much toil and anxiety, sitting at cafes with
bands playing and Evanthia in that corn-coloured dress with an enormous
black hat. And then his thoughts went so far forward that they lost
coherence and he grew dizzy again. His chair was tilted back against the
opened jalousie and he stared with unseeing eyes across the glittering
water. It was the dream he had had before, on the _Tanganyika_, only a
little clearer, a little nearer. They were dead, while he was alive.
There you had it. Perhaps in a little while he, too, would be dead--a
bomb, a shell, a bullet--and the dreams would be for others while he
joined that great army of silent shades. Why had he never seen the
simplicity of it before? This was the mood for adventure. You forgot the
others and went right on, getting the things that are yours for the
taking, never counting the cost, finding your dreams come true....

Then you went back to belea