"But what has happened?" I murmured.

"Read that!" he cried, throwing me a letter. "What a pirate! What an
assassin! If I only had you and your friend, one in each hand! Oh, he
won't do it! Will he?"

The letter was from John Harris. It ran:

"Hadgi Stavros,--Photini is now on my ship, the _Fancy_,
which carries four guns. She remains a hostage as long as
Hermann Schultz remains a prisoner. As you treat my friend, so
I will treat your daughter. She shall pay hair for hair, tooth
for tooth, head for head. Answer at once, or I will come and
see you.--JOHN HARRIS."

"I know Photini," I said to the king, "and I swear that she will not be
harmed. But I must return to Athens at once. Get four of your men to
carry me down the mountains in a litter."

The king rose up, and then groaned and staggered. I remembered the
arsenic. He must have eaten some of the meat. I tickled the inside of
his throat, and he brought up most of the poison. Soon afterwards the
other brigands came up to the enclosure, screaming with pain, and wanted
to murder me. I had cast a spell over their meat, and it was torturing
them, they cried. I must be killed at once, and then the spell would be
removed. The king commanded them to withdraw. They resisted. He drew his
saber, and cut down two of the ringleaders. The rest seized their guns
and began to shoot. There were about sixty of them, all suffering, more
or less, from the effects of arsenic poisoning. We were only twelve in