nded him. In the past
few years this forgiveness had been stretched to its utmost. Velo
himself was not aware of the number of disgraceful things his uncle had
had to face for his sake. But it would have mattered not at all. He
did not know the meaning of gratitude. This boy, who should have been
on his knees beside the death-bed of the truest friend of his life,
shedding the tears that are an honor to true men, had instantly, with
his uncle's last breath, bent his quick and wicked brain on the problem
of wresting the Zaidos title and estates from his cousin. The
knowledge that the kindness and forbearance of the father would be
continued on the part of the son never occurred to him. He would have
laughed if it had. It was all or nothing. He determined that the
cruel chance of war was on his side. So he dropped sand in the engine
when he had sent the chauffeur on an errand, and then had hurried to
headquarters. And it happened that while Zaidos sat on the sidewalk
beside the chained door, talking to the friendly sentry, Velo himself
was at the _front_ door of the barracks waiting for it to be opened for
visitors.

Fortunately, in telling Velo of his escape from barracks, Zaidos did
not go into details, so Velo did not know of the door through which
Zaidos had crept. He had taken it for granted that he had slipped
unnoticed through the door at which he himself was standing, and as he
waited he momentarily expected his cousin to come hurrying up. Velo
smiled. He hoped Zaidos would come. He wanted to be there when he
tried to make his lame excuses for leaving the barracks in the face of
the refusal to give him permission. Velo knew well that in the
troubled times in which Greece found herself, no excuse would be
accepted. It was desertion; and the fact of his return would not
soften the offense. There was no place or time for punishment or
imprisonment. Velo shuddered, but smiled evilly.

However, Zaidos did not appear, time passed, and finally the doors
opened. Velo, very humble and apologetic, made his simple request that
he should be allowed to speak with his cousin who was with the soldiers
in the inner room. The request was granted, and with two soldiers he
entered the room full of sleeping men. He went from cot to cot, making
an idle examination of each face. He was waiting for the moment when
he could turn to his escort and say, "He is not here."

But there he was! Velo could not believe h