HE was short, thickset man with a stubby chin whisker, an incessant energy, and an amazingly choppy manner of speech.

“'Just so; just so,' he said when he had heard our circumstances and needs. 'Drive you around myself. Do it myself.'

“Shortly thereafter he was driving us with two small ferocious horses through the starlit night, over tumultuous roads, circling the city, in order that—without passing through it, or meeting its expectant pink militia or gend'armerie—we might get to some point on the bay where a boat could be obtained to the Violetta.

“'I see, I see,' he said. 'You'll have to get away. Get away. Before daybreak. Beteta. Know him well. Damn rascal. Right, Jamison! Right. Clever old boy, Jamison. Old boy. I was up City Hall. City Hall. Five o'clock. Saw Mayor. Saw despatch. No names though. Said Museum was robbed. Description. No names. How should I know? Too early, though. Beteta ought to have waited. Seven o'clock. Time enough. Damn fool. Make no great difference. Maybe not. Humph! Good enough case. Got you short. Eh? Few thousands. Blackmail. Wouldn't do. Eh? Keep the mummy? Lord, yes. Your game. Whoa! Here's Kirby's house. See if he's here.'

“Singular conversationalist, Mr. Dorcas. His discourse resembled the precipitous flow and fall of successive bricks. He pulled up before that house of the picket fence, visited by Sadler and myself the night before. But all was dark, not a window lit, no one within.

“We could see, however, the low buildings, tall stacks, and shining windows of the electric plant some distance away. Jamison departed for the plant, saying he would tell Kirby we were there, if Kirby were at the plant. Dorcas fastened his horses to the picket fence. We sat on the edge of the porch and held council.

“'Kirby in bad hole,' said Dorcas. 'Mayor crazy. No lights. Snuffed out the city. Cool, but risky. These boys, Lord! What nerve they have! Don' know. Might have worked, maybe. But that riot. Bad. Irish. Jimmie Hagan. Red hair. Proclamations. Hot. Printed too. Hagan had 'em. Mayor's tenderest corns stepped on. Insurrection. Sedition. Mob. File of soldiers. Dead wall. Bang! Dead Irish. Next, Kirby took the riot. Clubbed the Mayor with it. What! Collusion with rebellion. Humph! Got his bill. Yes. But the Mayor's got him. Never forgive. Never!'

“'Irish!' said Sadler. 'Proclamations nothing! Irish never got up an insurrection.'

“'Did too,' said Dorcas, diving into his coat. 'Here. Got a copy. See here!'

“'He must have run into Chepa,' said Sadler. 'Chepa used to have sand, and he's Kirby's foreman, now, ain't he? We heard so. Him and Irish used to be with each other like a man and his pug dog, and each of 'em thought the other was the pug dog. That's a proper international relation, ain't it? Wrath of God!' says Sadler. 'Look here! Chepa never did this by his lonesome.'

“He read aloud the proclamation:

“'Citizens, rise! The Mayor tyrant has arrested the electric lights! The Mayor, betrayer of the people, has put in jail Kirby, friend of the people! The Mayor thief has stolen the people's taxes to buy gilt furniture! The Mayor pig eats the people's taxes! Therefore is he fat and shaped like an egg which within is bad. Kirby, friend of the people, is desolate because he cannot buy more electricity, because the Mayor sneak will give him no money which the people gave him! Release Kirby or Down with the Mayor! Shall Portate be darkened forever? Citizens, are you slaves? Citizens, be not deceived! Citizens, rise!'

“'Chepa nor Irish didn't do that!' said Sadler.

“'Peppery, ain't it!' said Dorcas. 'Red hot. Who did it! Don' know. Kirby, maybe. Don' know! Done for himself now. Sure.'

“'Mr. Dorcas,' I said, 'why shouldn't Kirby sail with us to-night?'

“'Maybe he won't. Likely not. Here's Jamison.'

“Jamison came up deliberately. He said there were some men tending the furnaces and dynamos who thought either Kirby or Chepa would be back before midnight. Senor Kirby had said he was going to visit a foreign vessel in the harbour. They knew no more.

“Jamison thought he would go back to the plant, and so said farewell.

“'Why, there!' I said; 'He's on the Violetta already. But undoubtedly there will arise a point of duty, of responsibility. But you are a responsible man, Mr. Dorcas. You may be playing a game of your own, but my impression is it will be, on the whole, a decent game. I'm willing to be convinced it is, however it may look not over friendly. At any rate, Kirby knows you, if I do not.'

“'Knows me!' Dorcas said. 'Knows me! You're right. Point's this: He's done for himself. Persona non grata. Poison to the Mayor. Spoiled the Mayor's face. I'll see to property. Cable Union Electric. Send another man. Tell 'em he did well. All considered. Overdid it some, maybe. Bad hole. No good here now. Cats and dogs. Fines. Thirty thousand up the spout again. Damages. Anything. Queer country. Got to play it, you know. Same as a trout. Better clear out.'

“I said, 'But in that case what are we doing here? He'll want to come here to pack up, and as we leave before daybreak, he'll have no time to spare.'

“Dorcas shook his head.

“'Better not. Things happening now. City Hall. Pretty likely. Military here most any time. Despatches to Beteta. Despatches from Beteta. Gunboat after your boat. Don't know. Point's this: Whose a burglar? I am. Pack up for him. Why not?'

“Sadler said, i don't know Kirby, but I'll take the liberty of busting his window, if that's all. Looks to me as if one had been busted here already.'

“He put his hand through the broken window pane and unfastened the window, and we entered, leaving Dorcas with his horses.

“Our selections from your apparel and other properties, Kit, I trust you'll find to have been judicious.

“Dorcas drove us to the north side of the bay and routed out the men who rowed us here. They are, I believe, employÉs of The Transport Company. Dorcas refused to come with us.

“'Better not,' he said. 'Point's this: tell the Mayor I haven't seen him. No collusion. Mayor's friend. You tell Kirby. Write me letter. I'll wait here. Send it back. Power of attorney. Take charge. Responsible. I say so. Tell him. Goodbye, gentlemen. Glad to've known you. Good-bye.'

“Having arrived then,” concluded Dr. Ulswater, “it remains to inquire if we've done well. If not, the boatmen are waiting, but if we have——” Here Dr. Ulswater leaned forward, and put his hand on my knee.

“My dear boy, I believe I speak for Mrs. Ulswater too. We've been the round of the world, missing you.”

As I thought it over, it seemed to me plain that Dorcas was right. He and Jamison were very decent sort of men. If Dorcas took the responsibility, the property would be safer with him than with me, supposing I was in jail. Could I serve The Union Electric better, under the circumstances, than by running away, as a sort of scapegoat, carrying off The Union Electric's ill-odour with the Mayor, along with the thirty thousand? The Company ought to be satisfied. I didn't like running away. I longed for another crack at the Mayor. I looked at Mrs. Ulswater, at the doctor, at Susannah.

I supposed Dorcas was right about the ultimatum too, if the doctor had reported his jerky hints correctly. He had lived in the country almost as long as I was old, and was clever and wise. I had felt proud of that ultimatum. It was new and bold and spectacular. But Dorcas had put his finger on the flaw in it, the injury to the Mayor's prestige, by which nothing was gained and much was lost. He might have pardoned being held up, if it could have been done behind the door, though I didn't see how it could have been done. He might even have pardoned the ultimatum, but there were Chepa's proclamation, whose blasting rhetoric was Susannah's—Susannah's genius and Chepa's idiom—and Mrs. Ulswater's insurrection in general, and my taking advantage of it—why, Dorcas was right there, at least. The Mayor had a whip-hand now, for the Government would back him up now with a case for international argument. The riot was bad business. It looked as if Mrs. Ulswater were not so infallible as the doctor thought. I wasn't altogether a success either. The Union Electric might or might not think me all right, but Dorcas was right, and The Transport Company had won a point over us by having elderly wisdom to manage its affairs in Portate, instead of a young one whose nerve was longer than his head. Anyhow, the milk was spilt.

“I'll write to Dorcas,” I said, getting up. “I seem to have run through my usefulness.” While I was writing in the cabin I could hear the chain and wheel where the crew was hauling in anchor. The hands of the cabin clock pointed to one o'clock.

Had Mrs. Ulswater contracted a habit of coups-d'État? Certainly her riot didn't look like workings of infallible good sense.