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Updated: May 18, 2025
Hipgrave; and a stage direction might add: "Business with brows, as before." "'Poulos'?" I repeated. "Could it be Constantinopoulos?" asked Hamlyn, with a nervous deference to my Hellenic learning. "It might, conceivably," I hazarded, "be Constantine Stefanopoulos." "Then," said Hamlyn, "I shouldn't wonder if it was. Anyhow, the less you see of him, Wheatley, the better. Take my word for that."
"Compose this old man's body," I said, "and we will watch it. And do you go and tell this Constantine Stefanopoulos that I know his crime, that I know who struck that blow, and that what I know all men shall know, and that I will not rest day nor night until he has paid the penalty of this murder. And tell him I swore this on the honor of an English gentleman."
For the Neopalians like a man to follow, and they like that man to be a Stefanopoulos; so they would shut their eyes to much, in order that Constantine might marry me and become lord." She stated all this in a matter-of-fact way, disclosing no great horror of her countrymen's moral standard.
One was that my tall neighbor was named Stefanopoulos; another, that he had made good use of his ears better than I had made of mine; for a third, I guessed that he would go to Neopalia; for a fourth, I fancied that Neopalia was the place to which the lady had declared she would accompany him.
I can't construe half of it. It's in Greek, and it's something about Neopalia, and there's a lot about a Stefanopoulos." "Is there? Let's see;" and taking the book I sat down to look at it. It was a slim old book, bound in calfskin. The Greek was written in an antique style; it was verse. I turned to the title-page. "Hullo, this is rather interesting," I exclaimed.
Toward midnight, little disposed to sleep, and curious to look about somewhat before leaving the island, they stroll inland, and come by chance upon the manor-house, still and apparently deserted. Curiosity drives them to enter. They find Lord Stefanopoulos, whom Vlacho had reported to them as recently dead of a fever, not dead, but on the point of dying from a dagger wound.
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