like that. Ho-ho! Plouff had a wife somewhere in the
world, and as he never under any circumstances remembered to send her
any support, he was romantic in his ideas concerning _enlevements_. And
mysteriously enough, Plouff became instantaneously more devoted to the
task in hand, in spite of Mr. Spokesly's disgust. That officer realized
he was pressing ahead without any clear notion of his future actions.

"I wonder what Dainopoulos 'ud think if he saw me hanging round," he
mused. "Nobody on the ship, too! Well, here goes." And he whispered to
the attentive Plouff.

"Do you know where the cars are, Bos'?"

"Of course I do. What do you take me for?"

"Go on, then, go on. I'll know the house if I see it."

Plouff was getting excited.

"And she come down with you?" he demanded.

"I don't know yet, man. Wait."

And suddenly they emerged upon the street.

Mr. Spokesly paused in the shadow of the wall enclosing the house they
had left. On either hand extended an obscure and empty street. From that
retired vantage the suburbs of Saloniki were wrapped in a peace as
complete as that of the harbour. A faint hum, as of a distant
trolley-car, came along the wires overhead. Mr. Spokesly reflected
quietly, noting the landmarks, getting his bearings. The Dainopoulos
house was a little farther on, he guessed. As he took a step forward, a
door banged some distance off, and a dog gave a few ringing howls.

"Is it far?" asked Plouff in a tense whisper. Mr. Spokesly looked at
him. He was very much excited, and looked foolish, with his round eyes
and extraordinarily pretentious moustache.

"No, I don't think it is," said Mr. Spokesly. "I got an idea it's just
along on the other side." And then, as they moved up the road and the
view changed somewhat, opening out on a familiar clump of trees, he
added, "Yes, it's just along here," and mended his pace.

And he advanced upon the place where he believed Evanthia to be waiting
for him, in a mood of mingled fear and pleasure. Perhaps there was shame
in it, too, for he almost felt himself blush when he thought of himself
sitting there on the _Kalkis_ waiting. And but for an accident--Plouff
was the accident--he might have been waiting there still. He grew hot.
He saw that his long habitude of regarding women as purchasable adjuncts
to a secular convenience had corrupted his perception of character. Why
had he not seen immediately that she would expect him to carry out the
whole enter