hering the scattered
details of the story, had already sent a man away with a message, and he
turned and came into the cafe, scratching his head and looking extremely
serious. He said the officer was the son of his landlord, who lived on
an estate at the far end of the town on the Seres Road. There had been a
riot in the Israelite Quarter, the revolutionists had attacked a squad
of soldiers going up to the garrison to change guard, and the military
in clearing the streets had suffered some losses. The wounded man had
been dragged from his horse and nearly killed before his men could
rescue him. It was terrible for the old people. He had sent a messenger
to prepare them. They would send for a doctor. Everything in Saloniki
was in a bad way. Just as the carriage was well out of the city they
heard a terrific explosion near the port, where the railway station was.
Troops were already leaving for Monastir. And in reply to the question
as to what we had better do, he eyed us reflectively and said perhaps
we'd better beat it back as quick as we could. He'd send for our
carriage at once, if we liked. It was obvious that while he figured on
handling the situation with credit and possibly profit, he had no desire
to be hampered by our presence. And it was certainly my own idea, too,
to get back. That 'explosion near the port' worried me a good deal. If
the _Manola_ were affected it would be necessary for me to be on hand.

"'This settles it,' I said in a low tone as we waited for the carriage.
'You must come with me. On the _Manola_ you will be safe.' In those
days, of course, even the shabby old Red Ensign was an inviolable
sanctuary. She nodded without speaking. Indeed she did not speak for
some time after we had quitted the tortuous streets of the village and
were entering upon the open plain, merely regarding me in an earnest
abstracted fashion, so that I was moved to ask the reason. For she had
the air of one pondering upon a course of action already decided, trying
to see where it would lead.

"'I was thinking,' she said, 'that it is funny you should be here, after
all this time, and free to do--what you are doing. Most men, you
know....' and she stopped.

"'Most men what?' I demanded.

"'Oh, there's generally someone they like at home, even if they aren't
married. You aren't, are you?'

"It wasn't a rude or a cruel question as she put it to me. It was, on
the other hand, shockingly pathetic, and humble. It registered