Some Unsuspected Isle

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVI, Issue 1, 6 January 1906, Page 6

Some Unsuspected Isle

A Romance of Modern Greece

By

Blanche M. Burrell

THE restaurant was comfortable and well lighted, the dinner weli served, anil the hum of many combined conversations cheering.

To-night Dornby had gone there partly from habit. partly from curiosity, to know if the place had altered any since he had left Paris and the Latin Quarter several years ago, and though he could see no real changes, he felt strangely

out of harmony among the pleasureseeking throng that tilled it. For he was suffering from what he fancied a broken heart.

This malady had so altered him that his friends in London, remarking his cold aloofness, twitted him unmercifully on its source; and Dornby, being very much in earnest for perhaps the first time in his life, resolved to fly from their jeers to a more sympathetic spot. Paris, however, hardly came up to his expectations; like the artist Jules he began to long for some unsuspecteo isle in far-off seas, where he could repair all damages unobserved. As lie drank his coffee he was very deep in thought upon this subject should he go or stay? It was of no importance to himself or any one else which he did, and this fact onlyserved to exasperate him the more. Here he came out of his abstraction in order to light another cigarette, and awoke to the fact that an un-English voice was talking English to the Frenchiest of waiters.

‘‘l won’t take that five-frame piece,” it said, “it’s a counterfeit—no good. You don’t understand? Well, you seem mighty quick at forgetting, as you understood the English of my order all right.”

Dornby- looked up to see an exasperated American confronted by the shrugging, smiling waiter. “Give me a good piece of money, do you hear?” continued the American. “Monsieur mean he not satisfy with his petit souper?” queried the' pelite garcon. Several Frenchmen around were now interested, laughing spectators of the big American’s embarrassment. They leaned forward so as to miss none of the waiter’s replies, or of the American’s annoyance. One of

them laughed, while the other called some very evident encouragement to his aproned compatriot. The American flushed, and looked around him helplessly. Dornby saw at a glance that he knew he was being cheated, but was ignorant of Latin Quarter methods of persuasion. Also his quick eye noted that he was a gentleman. A suddeh liking sprang up in him for this other Anglo-Saxon, and, catching the American’s keen gray eye, he called.

“Why don’t you try knocking a little sense into him?”

Almost before Dornby had finished speaking, the American was on his feet and the Frenchman sprawling on the

floor. His blood was up now, for as he looked around for more worlds to conquer, he called back to Dornby :

“I didn’t know matters could be settled so satisfactorily in the effete East,” ami his comprehensive glance took in the aforetime interested spectators, who now seemed to have lost ail interest in the affair.

Dornby crossed over to his sine and said a tew words to the waiter, who stood brushing himself off; tae tiveirane piece was restored, and peace into the bargain, for Dornby and the American walked out of a very quiet and apologetic- cafe, talking like old acquaintances.

"It was mighty kind of you to give me a tip just wlieu 1 needed it most,” the American began; Ive never been to Paris before, and 1 don’t know a word of French, so 1 was in rather a bad way. 1 was beginning to see red when you called me, for I’d been explaining for about a quarter of an hour, and it seemed to me that all the Frenchmen in the place were grinning and nudging each other. I rather hated to knock that little fellow down without warning, though.” Dornby smiled. “Oh, it’s no new tiling for him, ’ he said, "a rascal sometimes gets what he deserves. It is trying for a stranger to get in such a fix, though—especially it he doesn’t know the language.” “You’re fairly good at it, 1 take it,” remarked the American, a question in his voice.

“Yes,” replied Dornby, “I was brought up on it. My mother was a foreigner —by that 1 mean not an Englishwoman

—and the advantages of knowing more than one language were early instilled into my youthful mind.”

“I wisih someone had taken tffa[ much trouble with me,” said the American, enviously. “Here 1 am, a perfect stranger in a strange land and bound for still stranger ones, and with only my mother-tongue to bewail my fate in, when fate is unkind.”

“So you’re going to travel?” inquired Dornby. “Not exactly,” replied the other. “You see,” and he laughed, “I am on my way to Ithaca, where 1 shall install myself as American eon ul in a few weeks! ”

“American consul of Ithaca! Why, my dear chap, I doubt if the inhabitants have ever heard of America,” cried the surprised Englishman, they’re the most primitive, uneducated creature-, you know.”

“Well, there only are about twelve thousand of them, as far as I can make out.” the consul answered, “and a little education distributed among that many goes a long way. It’s an absurd position for a man of my age to accept” —he looked about thirty—'“but I’ve never travelled any, and I thought it would be a chance to see something of other countries besides my own—l dare say you have guessed my nationality by now. as it didn’t seem to take that waiter long to size me up. Mv name

is Chisholm, sir—Barry Chisholm—and I’m from Kentucky.” Dornby grasped the American’s outstretched hand as he answered, “Aline is Dornby—and I’m very g.ad to make your acquaintance, Air. Unishoim. Do you know, there is something queer about our striking up against each other in this way, as 1 am interested in Ithaca to a certain extent myse.f. Why, 1 actually know that Vathy is the principal town, and that its whitewashed houses seem to bid you welcome as you sail up the Gulf of Alolo. And its sky is bluer than England’s, its mountains boulder and more rugged —altogether, Ithaca might pose as that ’unsuspected isle in tar-off seas’ that Browning's hero longed tor so ardently, as far as natural beauty and iso.ation go.” “So you’re an artist?” asked Chisholm, who had read about as much Browning as he had French. “Oh, no, not at all; but my mother came from Ithaca,” answered Dornby, in a burst of confidence. He rarely spoke of his foreign mother, this reserved Englishman, perhaps the wish to be quite English in spite of his Greek blood made him talk less about himslf than was natural. But the coincidence of his meeting with a man almost his compatriot, who was bound for his mother’s birthplace, seemed to loosen his tongue, for he went on, “I’ve always thought 1 ought to go to Ithaca, and meant to at one time or another, but 1 kept telling myself that 1 had all the tune there was, and it was no use wasting the present. Then I never eared much about meeting my grandfather—he was an unusually quarrelsome old chap .0.1,Tt“ S T and my unele ’ m - v mother’s only brother, must have been a perfect bi ute in his youth; it isn’t likelv he’s improved with age. No, I’d rather remain the Hon. Basil Dornby than pose as Basil, Count Alegalopolis, For I’m a thorough-paced, if commonplace, Enolishman.” °

I hisholm stopped short, and looked at the contented son of Albion with the light of inspiration in his keen American eye-.

'■p° rn by,” said, “why not come with me, nominally as my secretary, if you don’t want to do the long-lost relation act? I can’t say we are well acquainted, but that will come with time, and if you found anything very disagreeable in me, you eould cut for London whenever you wanted to. A ou’ve done me one good turn already, and the next one should come from the other side, perhaps—but I must confess that the thought of Ithaca with a fool interpreter as sole companion has gotten to be a sort of nightmare to me. No, don’t say a word till we’re in my rooms, then we can discuss things quietly, for I see you’re beginning to think me mildly insane.” They were at the entrance of Chisholm’s hotel, and in another moment the large swinging doors closed behind the two men that Chan-ce had so strangely brought together.

Purple-blue water and sky, and a semicircle of white houses against a mountain background. As they sailed lazily up the bay Chisholm and Dornby looked around them curiously, the one at has new home, the other at the home of his ancestors. The American consul felt his heart sink as his eyes rested on the low, small houses that seemed to constitute Vathy; at the wild, bare country, and the absence of everything that would have here indicated competition with the outside world. The two black browed men who managed their skiff did not reassure him much, and he be gan to wonder why he had ever consented to waste his time on an island more famous in the Odyssey than on any’ list of exports. Dornby, however, insisted that everything was perfect. Until non, Chisholm had found him rather a silent companion, at times almost too tactiturn, and had begun to fear that he had been foolish in suggesting the trip. For in spite of the mdden liking that had sprung up between the two men, arguing some tastes in common, they were, after all, perfect strangers, who knew next to nothing of each other. The two weeks they had spent together had been full of interest to the American, and Dornby had proved an admirable guide—he seemed as much at home in Rome as in Paris or \ ienna, but his lack of enthusiasm was rather a damper to Chisholm’s high spirits. And now their roles seemed to be t ransferred; the one was all consul,

“Why don’t mere people come to this corner of the globe, 1 wonder,” Dorn by called. “I should think Cook could make a fortune pointing out the exact spot where Ulysses plowed the strand, and the rock to which Telemachus’ galley was moored. Besides, everything is so beautiful. I shall re-ehristen Ithaca and call it a ‘Cure for the Blues.’ Did you ever see such water, or such a sky? I eould spend days climbing around over those rocks.” And he began to whistle from sheer lightheartedness, ( hisholm looked at him in surprise. t .e was not prepared for such unstinted praise on Dornby’s part. And the boatman’s scowl deepened as he wondered where this foreigner had learned the air to their count’s favourite hunting song. Half an hour later found them in Chisholm’s quarters. He had extravagantly rented a house built on the hillside, a few minutes outside of Vathy, and everything was in readiness for the new master, even down to the servants and well-stocked kitchen. It was more like a miniature feudal castle than a modern consulate, if the truth must be told, for the only entrance led into a small court with a fountain and stone table and benches, and the doors to the master’s apartments, servants’ quarters and stables all opened in this. These buildings enclosed the court on three sides, but on the fourth was a stone wall, some four feet thick, overlooking the town. The ground sloped sharply down from this point, so that the castle terrace commanded a fine view of the surrounding country; but from the bottom of the hill nothing eould be seen save the new consulate’s high walls and single turret. The incongruity of his peaceful calling and this belligerent residence struck Chisholm and amused .him.; Dornby was delighted, and vowed he would put on enough style for an ambassador. “Have your trunks dumped into your room, and Harris will unpack them,” he said. “We have plenty of time before dinner to take a stroll and see what things are like. I’m impatient to view the home of my ancestors.” . Chisholm took advantage of his friend’s loquacious humour to ask him if he knew where these ancestors lived, and how; and as they went down the winding path that led to the town. Dornby began on this rather exhaustive theme. “1 must confess that I don’t know much about them; you see, my grandfather was bitterly opposed to my father’s marriage, for though the Megalopoli are noble and the Dornbys a decidedly younger branch, my English relations always felt there was something outlandish about my father’s Greek wife, and never quite forgave his taking the Laid step of marrying a foreigner. When I think of my aunts and uncles, I do wonder how he ever had the courage to do it. I know the whole family

expected me to turn out a sort of blackeyed young bandit, and was supremely grateful when I got through school and college without disgracing my name. I imagine I was rather like the ordinary English boy, for I neither developed ‘long, raven locks,’ now was I ‘subject to fits of rage,’ and I believe my mother was very happy during her short married life, so I can never pose as a hero of romance. I can’t even boast an unloved childhood, for though my mother died when I was quite a little chap, my father and I were always good friends, and I had plenty of uncles to visit during the holidays when he was away from home. Since his death, I have been in trouble once or twice, but nothing that my affectionate relations could blame my Greek blood for, if they heard of it.”

“I would say you were a typical Englishman,” remarked Chisholm, glancing at Dornby’s smooth, brown hair and quiet eyes. “Did you erer learn any modern Greek?'*

“Used to speak it like a native. My mother was very anxious that I should, for some reason, but I haven’t even thought a word of it for years. After her death I was encouraged to forget that there was anything un-English about me, but from what she said, a count really counts for something over here, especially’ on a little island like this. Before her marriage she always usShto spend part of the year in Corinth or Athens —that was where my father met her—but for tho most part my grandfather preferred lording it on his own estate. I’d like to hunt it up, just.out of curiosity.” “Why don’t you try your Greek on the next man you meet, and ask him where it is?” laughed. Chisholm. They had entered the town now and were walking slowly up the main street toward the church, which stood on one side of the central square. Dornby hesitated an instant, then walked up to a sturdy young fellow in picturesque costume and addressed him in what seemed to Chisholm a series of gutters! exclamations. The Greek answered in the same strain with convincing waving of arms and shaking of head, a silver piece changed hands, and Dornby’ turned again to Chisholm. “That fellow really seemed to understand me I” he said, delightedly, "'and from what I can make out of his dialect, the count seems to be a pretty big man in these parts. He must own about the whole island. But the castle is too far off to see to-night; it’s around on the other side of Mount Stefanos. We must ride over some day —I suppose we can scare up a pair of horsee—as it would never do for the consul and his secretary’ to go on foot.”

He laid his hand on the American’s arm with a greater display of excitement than Chisholm would have thought, possible a few days ago, and they were about to walk on when a rider, followed by two other horsemen in the national Greek costume, turned into the. square. The newcomer was a heavily built man of middle age, but he sat his horse in a way that proved him perfectly at home in the saddle. His high boots, riding trousers and sack .coat were of commonplace cut and wellworn, but there was nothing insignificant in the man's appearance. As he nodded right and left to the citizens, who stood with bared heads to see him pass, there was something almost

princely in his bearing. But as he came nearer, both men noticed that • the black eyes under the low, broad forehead were dull and sullen, the thick moustache only half hid the heavy mouth, and the whole face bore the marks of a life spent in dissipation and self-indulgence. Dornby’s grasp on his friend’s arm grew tenser. “By Jove, we are In luck!” he whispered. ‘lt’s the count!” The local celebrity was nearly opposite them now; in another moment he had noticed the two foreigners, and raising his soft felt hat slightly, he reined in his horse before them. “You are the new American consul, 1 take it?” he began, In somewhat halting French, glancing first at one, then at the other, and finally settling on Chisholm.

“Monsieur is right,” replied Dornby in the same language, mentally noting the count as observant in spite of his heavy’ appearance, “but, unfortunately, the consul only speaks English. We have the honour to address Count Megalopolis?” “The same,” replied the count, “and as I know very little English—one’s languages are apt to grow rusty from disuse —will you please convey my compliments to the consul, and tell him I hope he will give me the pleasure of receiving him at my home very soon? And in the meantime, I welcome him most cordially to Ithaca. You are also an American?”

“I am the consul’s secretary,” answered Dornby, evasively, though why, he himself could not have told, “and I thank you in his name for your kind invitation.” “In which you, of course, are included,” added the count, quickly. “I fear our conversation w’ould be more painful than amusing without your kind assistance. I regret I am not able to say more to the consul himself, but I hope that in spite of that, we shall J>d very good friends,” and, lifting his hat once more, the count and his two grooms clattered on through the narrow streets. “Well, what do you think of my noble uncle?” asked Dornby, as they walked on. “I'm the one that should ask that of you,” Chisholm answered; “you did all the palavering, while I stood by, feeling like a fool. But if you really want to know my opinion, it’s that our friend Count Megalopolis thinks he’s a big man, whatever he may be.” “Coincides exactly with mine,” returned Dornby. “It remains for us to find out if he is anything or not. I’m mighty glad he did include me in his lordly invitation, for I’ve no intention of revealing myself as yet—l don’t think it would come in the nature of a joyful surprise.” The two men had almost reached the top of the hill on which their new home was perched, and as they stopped to take breath, they looked about them. At their feet lay the • little town of Vathy, with the blue Mediterranean lapping at its very doors; behind them frowned Mt. Stefanos, like a sentinel ready to cry, “Who goes there?” at the first approach of danger. As Dornby feasted his eyes on the wealth of colour and the wild beauty of the scene, his heart went out to the rugged little island, and he felt a most un-English desire to throw his arms about the man who had brought him there, and to claim his sympathy. That evening, as the two men sat drinking their coffee on the terrace, Dornby’s man Harris approached them with a troubled face.

“Begging your pardon, sir,” he began, “there’s something I should like to tell you if you’re not otherwise engaged.” “Ithaca doesn’t teem with engagements for us, Harris,” answered Dornby, “so go on.” “Well, sir,” the man continued, “J dare say I’m to blame —or will be, if anything comes of it —but I’m sure you’ll admit that it’s only in a queer, little out-of-the-way place like this for a man as has been used to city life. So, sir, when one of these here furriners up and speaks to me in English as natural as if he was a Christian, I takes him brio my confidence, so to speak. And after he has made a few remarks such as how I likes Ithaca after London, and so on, as is only polite, I says I must put away your things, sir, but if he can wait the matter of an hour or no, I would consider It moat kind of him. if he would show me about the island a bit. He falls in with the plan most agreeable, and says he’ll wait gladly.

and if I wouldn’t take It as Impertinent, he’d offer to help me, aa we could have a long walk before sundown; you having said you’d be back late, sir. I was so pleased to hear a word of English that I accepted of his offer, and together we goes to your rooms, sir, and he .helps me as bandy as you please. But all of a sudden I notices that I don’t hear nothing in your dressingroom -where I had left him. sir, and -thinks I, “That man may be one of these here' bandits for all I knows, in spite of his smooth ways.’ Ho 1 tip-toes quiet but uneasy to the door, and what do I see? Not him a-stulllng of his pockets with your gold, but aholding Mrs. Dornby’s picture in his dirty hands, a-staring at it with his eyes a-poppiug out of his head. Welt, sir, I was that relieved in my mind, sir, that I belters out, 'Oh, you’re still there, are you?’ And at that he drops the picture like he had been caught in a erime, and he says, ‘I was just a-looking at that photograph there. Now I had in my mind to say that that was my master’s mother, sir; but. seeing as he took the whole thing so queer, I says light-like, ‘Mighty fine-looking lady ani’t she? I often has admired that picture myself,’ asking your purdon for the liberty of talking so, sir. Well, at that, he looks relieved, and says, chipper-like, that he’d never seen no one more beautiful or taking, and how it reminded him of his count’s sister, as no one in them parts had seen for many a long year. And then he ups and axes me, do I know who she is!” “What did you say?” eried both Chisholm and Dornby in a breath. The man evidently encouraged by the interest his story awoke, went on with some show - of enjoyment. “These foreigners have some mighty curious ways, but thinks I, I’m a match for them! And I answers light and easy, ‘My master hasn’t made me his confidant, so I can’t- say as I do. It may be one of them fancy heads.' At that he looks at. me so piercing that t feels like the bloke in a detective story; then all at once he comes up so close to me that I feels quite cold—it all happened so sudden and unexpected—■ and he. says low and impressive: ‘ff I make it worth your while, can you find out who tho original of that, picture is, and let me know?’ Well, I was

staggered, air, it alt coming so suddenlike, as 1 said before, so 1 gasps aa how I'd lie glad to tell him if 1 only knew, and he explains, it’s only Curiosity on his part, and soon goes off, forgetting the walk most likely, though ho was still most friendly. But 1 argues ■it out this way: If he’s that interested in you. you may want to know about him; so 1 decides to tell you the whole story." “And you did quite right. Harris,” answered Dornby, “I suppose it was a shock to that fellow to find his eountess* photograph in the hands of a man whom he thought was an American and an utter stranger.” “But he acted real guilty, sir.'’ put in Harris. “Very likely you mistook surprise for guilt. I can’t imagine wiinl. crime there could be in looking at a beautiful woman's photograph,” returned Dornby, practically. “If he asks you again tell him the truth. I’m tired" of hiding my light under a bushel.” But as the man turned to go. Chisholm began remonstra tingly: “Look here, Dornby,” he said, “J wouldn’t bo in a hurry about tilings, if I were you. You seem to know mighty little about this country, or your uncle, or even of your mother’s life befo.e she was married. You say her father quarrelled with her, and that her brother was a brute, but do you know why, or even if this is the truth? If I were you, I wouldn’t be iu such a hurry about stirring up old memories in this out-of-the-way place. Perhaps you have never gone about with (he knowledge that an acquaintance would shoot you the first chance he got if you didn’t prevent him by forcible means; but I have, and I know what, it feels like.” “You don’t mean to say that you scent a mystery in this?'’ demanded Dornby. “If I said that much, you would merely call me a fool for my pains,” answered Chisholm. “What I do say is, ‘look before you leap,’ and nothing more.” “Oh, I don't mind looking,” acquiesced Dornby, after a moment’s pause. “So, Harris, don’t tell that man the truth. Say I bought the picture if he asks you anything about it, and together, Chisholm, we’ll find out if ‘mystery’ is the proper word.” That night, as Dornby’s thoughts

turned on {he events of the past day, he felt totally unlike himself, as a man in a dream; for though something in him responded to his mother’s birthplace, his surroundings were so strange, so foreign that he knew he must change completely before he could feel at home there. He was quite an unimportant individual in this little island. His nationality counted for very little, his name for less than nothing; yet he knew, that the moment he gave himself out as a Megalopolis, son of the late countess, he would be looked up to with a respect almost amounting to awe. "Yet he had never used his middle name at home —he had always dreaded pronouncing “that absurd Greek word!” He certainly was quite English. Yet if that were really the ease, why did he cherish his little mystery instead of going straight to his uncle and introjducing himself, as nine out of ten of his countrymen would undoubtedly have done? He almost began to doubt his own identity—to believe that if he struck a light and looked at himself in the mirror he would see some “blaek-eyed bandit” reflected there, instead of the usual unobtrusive features. On a sudden impulse he went to his dressing-table and struck a light, then smiled at his own reflection as he thought of his absurd ideas during the last hour or two. It was not an unpleasant thing to possess, that reflection —the forehead broad, and not so low as to suggest lack of intelligence; eyebrows well marked, and of the same *yade as the smooth, brown hair; quiet, J Own eyes; and a good mouth that the ose-cropped brown mustaelre did not hide. And these features combined formed an unusually well-bred, wellgroomed whole —the face of a manly, eelf-eontained Englishman with a will of his own, when he chose to exert it —-the chin spoke for itself there—but for the most part easy-going and conventional, both from habit and choice.

Dornby was as well aware of his personal advantages as any one, but tonight they did not seem as satisfactory os usual. All his homesickness for England, his sudden affection for this second home of his, had left no mark on the calm features; they seemed to him a mere mask to conceal his real feelings. With an impatient movement he put put the light again and crossed over to the moonlit window, where he sat far into the night looking at the white town nestled at the foot of Mt. Stefanos, and listening io the surf beating against the roeky shore. H Chisholm’s first night in Ithaea had been a bad one, he showed no trace of it the next morning. The smoothshaven, grayish face wore its usual expression of resolute contentment, his Byes their wonted steadiness, but he smiled over his egg-eup as he said to Jlornby: “Hope you’ve spent the last few hours planning how to ‘ferret out the mystery,’ for we’ve got to have gome work to do to keep us in condition. My post as consul doesn’t seem to promise much in that direction. It’s • fine way of punishing men who have taken some sort of an interest in politics to send them off as government representatives to places like this. 1 really had a strong desire to cut for the mainland last night. The thought of your disappointment over the unravelled mystery was really the only thing that kept mo from it.” Dornby laughed. "I wish you would define as well as unraval the mystery,” he said. “It did all seem very sinister last night, with the moon shining full on our ramparts and that confounded native music coming up from the town; but for the life of me, I can’t see anything unusual in the Greek's recognising niy mother’s picture, and then wondering whether he could be mistaken or not. If he had been an Englishman he would have asked Harris a straight question; since he was a Greek, he took n roundabout way of satisfying his curiosity. Now if you can find any mystery’ in that, you’re welcome to it.’ “l\hy, my dear fellow, your whole past life is shrouded in mystery,” cried

Chisholm, mockingly. "ITiere Isn’t so mueh aa a second cousin of mine that 1 don’t know intimately, even down to the few virtues he may possess, and as to my parents’ birthplace, I passed my whole childhood in the same town they passed theirs, while you can barely p»o--nounce your mother’s name, and haven’t even a speaking acquaintance with your only maternal uncle! Mystery—we’re knee-deep in mystery,” amt he rose from the table, chuckling -at his own wit. Dornby followed his example, and the two strolled out on to the terrace. Both men felt vaguely the absence of mail and daily newspapers, and as they were solacing themselves with cigaretio and sweetbriar, the American began again:

"I suppose I’m mighty curious,” he remarked, hesitatingly, “but if I had an uncle up yonder in the castle, I’d have some sort of a desire to see him.” “Suppose we call on him this afternoon,” returned Dornby, leaning both arms on the stone rampart, and blowing a cloud of perfumed smoke into the still air. “We - would have to come back bymoonlight, and I don’t like ridiug over a strange road after nightfall. I’m apt to lose ray way.” “Then why not try this morning?” questioned Dornby, lazily. His feeling was not altogether one of unmixed pleasure when Chisholm hailed his idea with delight, and declared he was no true Kentuckian if he couldn’t rustle up a pair of good horses inside the hour. But as the American’s long figure strode off in the direction of the stables. Dornby could not help admiring the energy which prompted his friend always to be up and doing, so he started off for his room with the noble resolve to loaf no more—that morning, at least.

“Have you seen anything of your Greek friend?” he asked of Harris, who was taking the trees out of his boots. “No sir,” replied the man, “and what’s more, I don’t believe I shall, sir. He was mighty mueh shook up and ashamed of hisself, if his looks was to be relied on, and I don’t believe he'll eome bothering around me no more.” “I hope he won’t, for your conscience’s sake, for Mr Chisholm won’t hear of you telling the truth about the picture,” said Dornby, smiling, as he pieked up a spur, wondering if the Kentuckian would really be able to “rustle up” a horse worthy of his steel. A few minutes later he left the room in search of his friend, whom he found coming io meet him, satisfaction pictured in every feature, and already dressed for the ride. “Come out and take a look at your mount, since you’re all ready to start,” he said, running his eye over the Englishman's covert cloth costume. “J miraculously’ ran up agaiust a bay and a sorrel that couldn’t be better if we’d ordered them on purpose for ourselves.” “Where did you find them?” gasped Dornby, as he looked at the splendid animals. “I didn’t know they grew such horse-flesh on this God-for-saken island,” “They don’t,” returned Chisholm, chuckling. "I told the groom, the only one that speaks English, that my secretary and I were going for a ride this morning, and consequently needed a pair of horses, whieh necessary’ articles he should immediately procure us. I expected him to look staggered, but instead of that, he said he understood perfectly, and that the horses had arrived. So it was my turn to be surprised, but I tried to show only the satisfaction I felt when he led up these two beauties,” and he patted the neek of the horse nearest him affectionately. “But whom do they belong to?” queried Dornby. “I don't want to add ‘horse thief’ to niy list of titles.” "Oh, they’re .ours all right enough,” answered Chisholm; “paid for and got the receipts in my pocket. The count is the only person that loses by the transaction, for, of course, it was he who ordered them to be sent over for inspection. But don't let that worry you.”

And evidently Dornby didn't, for a few minutes later the two men clattered over the bridge, and were soon cantering around Mt. Stefanos in the direction of the castle. Rambling, gloomy-, deserted, Castle Megalopolis loomed up before the two Anglo-Saxons suddenly after a sharp turn in the road.

"lord, what • mediaeval nightmare)” exclaimed Dornby, reining in his horse. “So this is my maternal inheritance or would be if Uncle Alexander would kindly make room.” “Would you want to inherit a pile like that!” asked Chisholm. “It seems to me that it would rather weigh on one’s spirits.” But Dornby vouchsafed no answer and the two men sat silent for a moment surveying the frowning walls, the towers and turrets that rose on the hillside above them, B lasting monument to the taste, good and bad, of a long line of Megalopoli. “The main branches of the family seems firmly enough rooted to its native soil,” said Dornby at last, “and they’ll be remembered, in one tiny corner of the globe, at least, till that mass of masonry has crumbled to atoms. Hanged if I don’t begin to have some respect for the biggest toad in a little puddle than I used to. He’s a big toad in some place, at all events.” “This toad seems to be worth knowing,” replied Chisholm who always preferred action to thought, “so suppose we proceed.” It was a hard climb for the nervous, spirited horses up the steep path, strewn with rolling stones, but at last their riders dismounted before what appeared the principal entrance to the castle, though it was closed and barred in a way to make any ehanee visitor despair of ever entering. Chisholm looked around for a bell ox knoeker —• any-thing to pull or pound; but the Sidon of this seemingly inhospitable house lifted up his voice in resounding G reek: “Hola, there within!” he shouted. Fot a moment it seemed as if no one had heard; then the. great gate swung noiselessly back, and before them stood one of the grooms they- had seen riding with the count the day before, still picturesque in his native costume. Chishom's gaze,travelled past the roan, and he stood taking in every detail of the paved court before him as Dornby explained their errand. Their horses were led clattering away by another groom, who appeared as if by magic, and then Chisholm found himself following Dornby through the court, up a wide staircase, along a broad passage, and finally into a large apartment, half hall, half drawing-room, where their guide took their cards and left them. “Rummy place this!” observed Dornby’, staring around him curiously, now that they were alone. And the room was something of a curiosity. Skins and horns covered the floor and walls in true mediaeval profusion; but here and there the light gleamed on a piece of polished marble or ivory in a way that carried one back in thought to a former civilisation. A few coals burned in a wrought-iron brazier jllaced near the long seat whieh, built into the wall, ran around the Toom, save where it was broken by the large doorway; and the air held a faint perfume, like the memory of flowers gathered long ago. Here and there the sun pierced the deep windows, set high in the wall, With long shafts of gold; but shadows elung to all the eomen, and the dim light seemed like a veil over objects fa-

miliar and strange after the oulaMg glare. “Well, I hope you feel quite at home,* remarked Chisholm, and his loud, eheer? ful voice broke a silence eo absolute that Hornby’s nerves jumped. "I don’t even know whether to sit down on that cold stone bench, or to recline on <m« fit the fur rugs.” “I’m not going to do either, answered Dornby, almost under his breath j “I’m going to look about me. I’d like to go on a tour of inspection through the whole doesn’t sea art old pile like this every day in the yea*.’’ “And I would be delighted to lead thia way,” answered another voice thfin Chisholm’s. “It is not often that Castld Megalopolis can boast such interested guests.” Both men swung around as if thelg heels had been pivots and before theurj with a quiet smile on his dark face, stood their host.

The American’s face flamed witJi mingled surprise and indignation, this man been in the room, then, eyefl since their arrival, spying on them frfrni some dark corner? No, for he held their cards in his hand. But Dornby’s voice scattered his thoughts and broke > somewhat awkward silence. “Pardon me, count,” he said, pleasantly. “J did not hear you come in. It ifl true, however, that we are interested in the castle, as we are in everything of importance in our new home.” “You are then pleased with Ithflchi” inquired the count, politely. He spoke English lather painfully, and with a decided foreign accent, but it was a relief to Chisholm that he could understand what was taking place around him. “Very much, indeed,” he answered* for the question had been addressed tof him as mueh as to Dornby. “Though I can’t say I’m a very competent judgfl of its merits. We only arrived yesterday.” “Ah!” replied Hie count, simply; then he added: “It wag most kind of you ta visit me so soon.”

“Not at all,” answered Chisholm “After seeing you yesterday in the village, both Dor—my secretary—and X were very anxious to become better acquainted with you.” The count smiled. "Standing hertjj that seems a difficult matter,” he saidjj “let us go where we can be more com? fortable.” ;

And again they were led along st broad passage that seemed to eurvfl aimlessly through the huge building till it finally opened into a room as charm? ing as the other was Here again, however, was that mingling of East and West, ancient and modern. The walla were of cool, white marble, without a hanging, the floor covered with a rich Oriental rug; buq massive carved chairs struck Chisholm as intensely comfortable, and on a small inlaid table lay a copy of tha English “Peerage.” But perhaps tha most characteristic feature of the room was the wall fronting the garden. It was of marble, like the other three, but broken by three open arches, and M elaborately carved that it seemed mere,ly a lace-like fretwork forming a boundary fox the stone verandahs outside.

TXornby was glad the count occupied himself with Chisholm, so that he could hake in every detail of this second corkier in his mother’s old home, from the furnishings of the room in which he sat to the fountain and stone benches in the tourt outside. He heard "the count’s smooth voice uttering commonplaces in English that rendered them original, knew that Chisholm was trying to help liis host over the rough places of that fanguage, and at the same time was directing imploring glances at his secretary; but, like the giant in the old Chinese fairy tale, Dornby had a vague feeling that his first duty was to remember something—something of immense importance to them all. From the moment that his eyes had first rested on Castle Megalopolis he had felt that he jwas not seeing it for the first time, and fas the groom led them through the wido Lails and corridors, there was something familiar in it ail, like a place often Visited in a dream. Now, as he sat Jvith half-dosed eyes fixed on the Splashing fountain in the court outside, Le was suddenly aware that Chisholm Bnd the count were enjoying quite an intimate conversation.

“Yes,” Count Megalopolis was saying gravely, “one sometimes feels alone here, surrounded by mere menials. Yeb it is rare that I leave the island. I find that a quiet life is better for me than too much pleasure.” “So you manage your estate entirely yourself?** inquired Chisholm. “Entirely myself,” was the reply. •‘We are not fond of intrusting strangers with our affairs, we Megalopoli, kind my only relation is not known to me." “Ah, indeed!” said-Chisholm, politely. “He liven in England,” the count went ton. “My only sister married, much t<s bur dismay, an Englishman. The last fetter that- passed between us was at the death of our father, who never forgave her. She also died soon after, but she left, I believe, a son.” “Whom you have never seen?” inguired Chisholm, somewhat curiously. “Never," answered the count, firmly. “Of late years I have sometimes been tempted to declare myself reconciled and allow him to return to the home of bis fathers, which is amply large enough for two. But on mature reflection, I Lave always decided that it is he who should demand pardon of me.” “For being an Englishman?” asked Dornby. It was the first word he had spoken during the ten or fifteen minutes that they had been seated, and the count turned to him gravely. “I am not so unreasonable as that,” he answered. “But it seems to me Estrange that a young man should ignore the existence of his mother’s relatives.”

At that minute, Chieholm really pitied the lonely Greek, and tie asked, half with the intention of forcing Dornby’s hand, “then you know the name of this nephew of yours?” “No,” replied the count. “Of his first name I am ignorant. His father’s was Edwin Dornby.” Unconsciously Chisholm glanced at his friend, and the count’s eyes followed his, but Dornby was looking out into the court as before, and only roused himself with a start as he felt the two pairs of eyes fixed on him.

“The sun shining on all that whiteness seems to mesmerize me," he explained, half in apology. “Yet I have heard that your America is a land of vivid colouring,” hazarded the count. “However,” he added, “perhaps you both feel equal now to the tour of inspection we proposed a short time ago. There may be a few things of interest in the old place.”

To Chisholm, the next hour or so seemed a repetition of those visits to museums with a competent guide that he had made so often- of late. He dutifully looked at what was pointed out to him, wondered when he was bidden to wonder, and admired when admiration was due. One incident, and one only, remained stamped on his brain with any degree of distinctness. The three men were standing before the portraits of the last two counts, the one with intense personal interest and family pride, the other two with curiosity and indifference, when an old man entered the room, bowing obsequiously. All at once, however, he stiffened with surprise; his glance had fallen on Dornby. Lifting his hands in wonder, he said something—Chisholm would have given his year’s salary to have known what to his lord, who answered him impatiently with a gesture of dismissal. 'Hie old man persisted, however, and a short conversation ensued. Chisholm’s eyes wandered from the two Greeks to Dornby, who still stood before his grandfather’s portrait as if unconscious that a most animated conversation, evidently about himself, was taking place at his very elbow. Only once did the American detect the faintest change of expression, and a second later the old man left the room somewhat hurriedly, and tbeir host turned to them with apologies for the interruption. But after this Chisholm felt that something had crept into the air that was not there before, like the first faint thread of smoke heralding a forest fire. The count still played the guide, Dornby was still politely interested, and he himself continued his stereotyped wonder and admiration. But it was with a decided feeling of relief that he found himself back in the little smoking-room, thanking the count for the pleasant morning he had spent, and hoping soon to have the pleasure of entertaining him at the consulate. He was glad Dornby seconded his refusal to lunch at the cast!?. Chisholm was not a nervous man, but he felt that a longer stay between those four massive and gloomy walls would depress him to the point of desperation. The count bade them a courteous farewell as their horses were led up, and Chisholm breathed a sigh of relief as they rode out at the great gate. Neither spoke for some minutes, but when they came to the spot where they had first eaught sight of it, both men turned to take a farewell look at Castle Megalopolis. There it towered, more massive, silent and mysterious than, when they had first seen it, and as they gazed the silence was broken at last. “Well, by George!” said the heir apparent of the Megalopoli. It was evening again, and the consul and his secretary sat smoking on (he terrace as before, still deep in discussion over the “Megalopolis mystery.” as Chisholm had christened it. “I know I laughed at the idea yester-

day, but you needn’t tell me that there isn’t something queer about my noble relative,” Dornby was saying. “And since Chance has brought me here, I'm going to find out what it is, particularly since I believe that I’m mixed up in it someway.” “I thought your uuclo didn't even know you,” Chisholm remonstrated. “I never saw any one blow hot and cold the way you do, Chisholm,” answered Dornby, somewhat exasperated that his theories were not received with more enthusiasm. “Yesterday it was you who were so keen on the scent of this mystery; to-day you seem to have lost all interest in it. “Don’t be a fool,” returned the American by way of comfort. “You know I’m interested, so what’s the use of wasting time? The thing I want, however, is a translation of that lithle conversation between the count and that old servant.” “I was just coming to that,” the molified Dornby went on. “When the old man seemed to know who I was, as if by intuition, I was simply staggered, and so, I don’t doubt, was the count. Old Toni, as the count called him, just gasped, ‘The son of my Lady! Found at last!’ But the count, far from showing any such pleased surprise, told him to keep quiet, and name no names; that he had no reason to believe I was the lost prodigal Toni deemed me, except by the wonderful resemblance to some one; and that, for reasons of his own, he wished to find out about me at his leisure. The old fellow remarked that I didn’t look poor or in want, as if the fact comforted him, and then the count sent him off. It wasn’t much, you see, yet it set me thinking. For why wasn’t I welcomed with open arms if I am recognised? Do you think the count merely wants tme to show my hand be merey wants tme to show my hand bemerely wants me to show my hand before he shows his,Mind was his conversation of to-day a gentle hint in that direction, or was all that merely a blind? Hanged if I know what it all means. Old Toni seemed to think some one had been hunting nie for years, yet Unele Alexander doesn’t appear over anxious to discover me, now that he has me, practically, under his thumb." He rose and began to wander restlessly up and down, and in a few minutes Chisholm followed him. “What do you say to a short walk before we turn in?” the American asked, noting his friend’s restlessness. “It’s a glorious night.” Dornby nodded his assent, and together they started out in the moonlight, this time taking the path that led up over the rugged shoulder of Mt. Stefanos. It was rather a hard climb that left no room for thought, but both men were in the mood to enjoy it. Silence absolute reigned, so that the sound of a. stone rolling down . the mountainside, rebounding from rock to rock, seemed to awake a hundred echoes. Chisholm peered down among the low s?rub, but everything was quiet again. “Only a chamois or a bird could come up there,” he remarked. “By the way, how’s the shooting here, Dornby?” And the ascent was begun anew.

{Suddenly Dornby caught sight of something a few yards above them that

reflected the moonlight in a way that struck him instinctively as sinister. Ha laid his hand on Chisholm’s arm and pointed it out without a word. “A rifle barrel!” said the Kentuckian, half under his breath. “Footpads, perhaps; have you much money with you?” “Only a trifle,” answered Dornby, “but they might consider our watches and sleeve-buttons more valuable than our skins. So since neither of us is armed, let’s play the coward!” Chisholm stood irresolute an instant-, then, hi* discretion getting the better of his valour, he, too, turned, anti both men began quickly to retrace th-ir •teps. There was no sound of pursuit. They hurried on down the steep pith, slipping and sliding with the rolling stones, till their retreat became a inero headlong flight. Straight on they pluuged, faster and faster as their momentum increased, so that, a sharp cry of warning from Dornby could not check Chisholm at once, though he saw in a flash the ncessity of coming to a full stop. For directly across the .path, like an enemy’s picket, stood a little line of men, typical Greek brigands. Both Chisholm and Dornby saw instantly that they had merely escaped one party to fall into the hands of another. Together they turned and w-re soon running like hares up the stony path again. A bullet that overtook them and flattened itself on a rocky wall ahead warned them that they had need of all their speed. Even as they ran Chisholm cursed his carelessness in not having carried a revolver; he would have enjoyed nothing better than * stand-up fight at that instant. Suddenly Dornby turned sharply from ths path and plunged down into the scrub. Chisholm heard steps coming to meet them and followed him unhesitatingly. Their two bands of pursuers had come together; sow there was a short breathing space, while the Greeks hesitated, and the crackling of the dry trees under Dornby’s feet sounded like pistol-shots. On they plunged downward, fearing every moment to find their flight stopped by a precipit e 100 high for them to jump. Then they heard the brush swish and crack behind them. The Greeks had started in pursuit once more, evidently lining out so as to surround their prey if it turned to right or left. And after a few minutes’ runuiug, leaping, slipping, running again, that which they dreaded happened—they found themselves on the edge of a rock shelf, looking blankly down at the peaceful moonlit valley beneath. (Concluded next week.)