ass case on account of flies. The furniture had
come, at his wife's order, from Tottenham Court Road, and was a glossy
walnut with dark green plush. A giant dresser of black Anatolian oak
which stood against one wall bore on its broad shelves a couple of blue
and green and yellow Armenian vases and a great shining copper tray like
an ancient shield. Across this shield the green sunlight wavered and
shook so that even Mr. Dainopoulos allowed his eye to rest on it. He
wanted to get rid of that dresser and buy one of those white kitchen
cabinets he saw in advertisements. He did not know furniture, strange to
say, or he would have asked an extremely high price for his dresser. He
sat looking at the light playing on the copper shield, which sent it
flying back in a fairy flicker athwart the ceiling, which was dark brown
and riven with huge cracks, and doing a little posing on his account.

"My wife she don't come down," he said. It reminded him of something he
had been going to tell Mr. Spokesly that first night and his wife had
stopped him. Why did she always do that? Always there was something
about the English he couldn't follow. He went on with his lamb stew,
noisily enjoying it, and pretending he did not see Evanthia's rehearsal
of one of her favourite poses, a great madama dispensing hospitality to
her guests in the morning room of her _chateau_.

"I met a major yesterday," said Mr. Spokesly, "in the Olympos. He said
he wanted me to go and see him about the cargo."

"Eh!" Mr. Dainopoulos stared, knife and fork raised.

"Oh, I fancy he just wants to give us a few hints about the discharging
in Phyros."

"He can do that," said Mr. Dainopoulos, letting his hands fall to the
table. "He can do that. Yes," he went on, seeing the possibilities of
the thing, "you go along and tell him you'll attend to it all yourself,
see? You fix him. The captain, he don't like government peoples."

"I'll go this morning, after I've got some gear."

"It ain't a very long voyage to Phyros," said his employer.

"Where do we go, from Phyros?" asked Mr. Spokesly.

"To Piraeus for orders," said the other quickly. Mr. Spokesly could not
help glancing at Evanthia, who regarded him steadily.

"I see," he said. Piraeus was the port of Athens. Athens, just then, was
a peculiar place, like Saloniki. So that was it.

"Captain Rannie said he didn't know," he observed. Mr. Dainopoulos
grunted.

"Perhaps he didn't know, when you ask him. I thin