An Old Meerschaum | Page 5

a little love-making, or some other such emollient. I regret to
say that the little Greek girl--who was tyrannously pretty by the
way--was as thorough-paced a little flirt as ever yet the psychic
philosopher dissected. She had very large eyes, and very pretty lips,
and a very saucy manner with a kind of inviting shyness in it. Jimmy
Leland's time had not yet come, or I know no reason why he should not
have succumbed to this charming young daughter of Hellas. As it was,
he flirted hugely, and cared not for her one copper halfpenny. She was
a little taken with him, and was naturally a little indiscreet. Otherwise
surely she would never have consented to meet James at the Concordia
Garden on the evening of their arrival at Constantinople. He had been
in Constantinople before, and was 'down to the ropes,' as he preferred

to say. He made his appointment with the young lady and kept it,
slipping out from Misserie's, and leaving the other members of his
party trifling with their dessert at that dreary table d'hôte, and lost in
wonder at the execrable pictures which are painted in distemper upon
the walls of that dismal salle à manger. He strolled down the Grande
Rue de Pera, drank a liqueur at Valori's, and turned into the Concordia
in the summer dusk. He sat down at one of the little wooden tables, and
aired his Turkish before the waiter by orders for vishnap, limoni, and
attesh. Then he crossed his legs, lit his cigar, and waited and watched
for the little Greek lady. The little Greek lady came not; but in her stead,
as he watched the entrance place, appeared the manly form of his chum
Barndale, clad in loose white serge. Barndale caught sight of Leland
almost at the moment of his own entrance, and took a seat beside him.
'Lilian has gone to bed,' said Barndale, 'and I came in here by accident.
Glad I found you.'
He looked about him with no great interest. The stream of people
flowed round and round the little circle, and repeated itself once in five
minutes or thereabouts, until he got to know nearly all the faces in the
crowd. He noted one face especially, where many were notable.
It was the face of a Greek of a very severe and commanding type,
shadowed in some strange way by a look which made the owner of the
face absolutely irritating to Barndale. There are some opposites in
nature--human nature--which can only meet to hate each other. These
two crossed glances once, and each was displeased with what he saw in
the other. The Greek saw a handsome, good-natured, bronzed face, the
thoughtful eyes whereof looked at him with an expression of curiosity
and analysis. The Englishman saw a pair of languid eyes, which flashed
instantaneous defiance and anger back to scrutiny. The Greek went by,
and in his after passages looked no more at Barndale, who continued to
watch him with an unaccountable, disliking regard. The crowd had
completed its circle some half score of times, and Barndale missed his
Greek from it. Turning to address Leland, he missed him too. He rose
and mingled with the circling procession, and listened to the music of
the band, and speculated idly on the people who surrounded him, as

lazy and unoccupied men will at times. Suddenly, in the shadow of the
projecting orchestra, he caught sight of a figure which he fancied was
familiar to him. Scarcely had he noticed it when it was joined by
another figure, recognisable at once even in that deep shadow--Mr.
James Leland. And the other personage was of course the pretty little
Greek girl. 'No affair of mine,' said Barndale, who was slow to meddle,
even in thought, with other people's doings; 'but neither wise nor right
on Jimmy's side,' He walked round the little circle discontentedly,
thinking this matter over with deepening displeasure. When he came to
the orchestra again the handsome Greek was there, with an expression
so devilish on his face that Barndale regarded him with amazement.
Demetri Agryopoulo, salaried hanger-on to the Persian embassy, was
glaring like a roused wild beast at these two shadowy figures in the
shadow of the orchestra. The band was crashing away at the overture to
'Tannhäuser,' the people were laughing and chattering as they circled,
and not an eye but Barndale's regarded this drama in the corner. The
Greek's hand was in his bosom, where it clutched something with an
ugly gesture. His face was in the sideway glare of the footlights which
illumined the orchestra. Leland, unconscious of observation, stooped
above the girl and chatted with her. He had one arm about her waist.
She was nestling up to him in a trustful sort of