Phroso by Antonio Hope

Yes, Mouraki was dangerous, very dangerous: now that he had regained his self-control, most dangerous. His designs against me would be limited only by the bounds which I had taken the opportunity of recalling to his mind. I was a known man. I could not disappear without excuse. But the fever of the island might be at the disposal of the Governor no less than of Constantine Stefanopoulos. I must avoid the infection. I congratulated myself that the best antidote I had yet found -- a revolver and cartridges -- was again in my possession. These, and open eyes, were the treatment for the sudden fatal disease that threatened inconvenient lives in Neopalia.

I thought that I had seen the Pasha safely and finally to bed when he left me in the hall after our interview. I myself had gone to bed almost immediately, and, tired out with the various emotions I had passed through, had slept soundly. But now, looking back, I wonder whether the Governor spent much of the night on his back. I doubt it, very much I doubt it; nay, I incline to think that he had a very active night of goings to and fro, of strange meetings, of schemes and bargainings; and I fancy he had not been back in his room long before I rose for my morning walk. However of that I knew nothing at the time, and I met him at breakfast, prepared to resume our discussion as he had promised. But, behold, he was surrounded by officers. There was a stir in the hall. Orders were being given; romance and the affairs of love seemed forgotten.