the expediency of it, it has been a pleasure. You have been here nearly
a week now," he went on, smiling a little, "and we have seen nothing of
you."

Mr. Spokesly muttered something about being busy all day on the ship,
getting the cargo out of her.

"Yes, but why not come round now? It is only just through the Passage,
near Costi's. I can assure you they are a very interesting lot."

"Well, it's like this, Mr. Marsh. I'm under orders, you see. And I've
got this launch now and I'm not so sure of the engine that I want to get
stuck with it after dark. I'll tell you what. I'll come to-morrow, eh?"

And to this Mr. Marsh was obliged to agree. Mr. Spokesly dived into the
custom house and made for the waterside, where a number of gasolene
launches were tied up. It was one of these which, on account of the
gasolene in the cargo of the _Kalkis_, he had been able to get for his
own use. He had had long struggles with the engine, towing it out with
him to the ship and working on it while the men loaded the barges. Now
it was in pretty good shape; he understood it well enough to anticipate
most of the troubles. He got down into it now and took off his coat to
start the engine.

It was not that he did not appreciate the offer of his friend. The crowd
alluded to were well enough no doubt--clerks and subordinate officials
who had gradually formed a sort of international coterie who met in a
wing of one of the consulates. Indeed, one of them lived in a house not
far from himself on the hillside at Bairakli. But he was in a mood just
now which made him reluctant to mix with those highly sophisticated
beings. He wanted to go home. As he steered his launch through the
entrance of the tiny harbour and made straight across the Gulf towards
the eastern end, he was thinking that for the first time in his life he
had a home. And she had done it! With a cool indomitable will she had
set about it. He knew he could never have achieved this felicity by
himself. She had held out her hand for money and he had handed it over
to her. If she had not watched he would not have had nearly so much, she
told him, and he believed her. That was the key to his mood. He crouched
in the stern of his boat and kept his eyes upon the house, a white spot
against the steep brown slope of the mountain. That house, rented from a
poverty-stricken Greek who had left most of the furniture, and an old
woman, who had lived all her life in the village, as servant,
r