‘IS that the villa up there?’ said Makarion, ‘like a star on top of the A cliff fronting the sunset?’

‘Yes,’ I replied, getting a grip of the reins, ‘and we take a sharp right turn directly. … Now. Hold tight to the bar.’

I whistled to Phloxy and pulled hard over. The car whirled round the corner crab-wise and then straightened up well to take the hill.

‘Holy Castor!’ screamed Makarion (nervous fellows, these Greeks) —‘Have a heart, Lucius. You'll have the wheel off. Why the speed?’

‘I told you this car could take anything and I want to prove it. Besides, we are behind time. Watch these two breast the hill.’

As we rose above the sea Makarion forgot his nerves and became absorbed in the view. I tapped the axle-gauge: it was pretty hot and the horses began to labour, so I eased them down to a walk.

‘What a view!’ he said suddenly. ‘Certainly Italy has something that Greece lacks. This long stretch of coastline, curving like a scimitar, the edge tempered silver with the surf. And all these splendid villas, pro-claiming wealth and comfort. Poor little Greece!’

‘The home of lost causes, perhaps,’ I replied; ‘still, it's very useful for education. The governor's got sense. I bless him for sending me to Athens. And I bless him no less for his choice of villas. It's good to be home.’

We now approached the level towards the drive, so I whipped up to a smart pace again and we were soon bowling for the gates and made for the house.