In spite of my many anxieties, after this eventful day I enjoyed the first decent night’s rest I had had for a week. The colonel refused, with an unnecessary ostentation of scorn, my patriotic offer to keep watch and ward over the city, and I turned in, tired out, at eleven o’clock, after a light dinner and a meditative pipe. I felt I had some reasons for self-congratulation; for considerable as my present difficulties were, yet I undoubtedly stood in a more hopeful position than I had before the revolution. I was now resolved to get my money safe out of the country, and I had hopes of being too much for McGregor in the other matter which shared my thoughts.

The return of day, however, brought new troubles. I was roused at an early hour by a visit from the colonel himself. He brought very disquieting tidings. In the course of the night every one of our proclamations had been torn down or defaced with ribald scribblings; posted over or alongside them, there now hung multitudinous enlarged copies of the President’s offensive notice. How or by whom these seditious measures had been effected we were at a loss to tell, for the officers and troops were loud in declaring their vigilance. In the very center of the Piazza, on the base of the President’s statue, was posted an enormous bill: “REMEMBER 1871! DEATH TO TRAITORS!”

“How could they do that unless the soldiers were in it?” asked the colonel gloomily. “I have sent those two companies back to barracks and had another lot out. But how do I know they’ll be any better? I met DeChair just now and asked him what the temper of the troops was. The little brute grinned, and said, ‘Ah, mon Prisident, it would be better if the good soldiers had a leetle more money.’”

“That’s about it,” said I; “but then you haven’t got much more money.”

“What I’ve got I mean to stick to,” said the colonel. “If this thing is going to burst up, I’m not going to be kicked out to starve. I tell you what it is, Martin, you must let me have some of that cash back again.”

The effrontery of this request amazed me. I was just drawing on the second leg of my trousers (for it was impossible to be comfortable in bed with that great creature fuming about), and I stopped with one leg in mid-air and gazed at him.

“Well, what’s the matter? Why are you to dance out with all the plunder?” he asked.

The man’s want of ordinary morality was too revolting. Didn’t he know very well that the money wasn’t mine? Didn’t he himself obtain my help on the express terms that I should have this money to repay the bank with? I finished putting on my garments, and then I replied:

“Not a farthing, colonel; not a damned farthing! By our agreement that cash was to be mine; but for that I wouldn’t have touched your revolution with a pair of tongs.”

He looked very savage, and muttered something under his breath.

“You’re carrying things with a high hand,” he said.

“I’m not going to steal to please you,” said I. — “You weren’t always so scrupulous,” he sneered.

I took no notice of this insult, but repeated my determination.

“Look here, Martin,” he said, “I’ll give you twenty-four hours to think it over; and let me advise you to change your mind by then. I don’t want to quarrel, but I’m going to have some of that money.”

Clearly he had learned statecraft in his predecessor’s school! “Twenty-four hours is something,” thought I, and determined to try the cunning of the serpent.

“All right, colonel,” I said, “I’ll think it over. I don’t pretend to like it; but, after all, I’m in with you and we must pull together. We’ll see how things look to-morrow morning.”

“There’s another matter I wanted to speak to you about,” he went on.

I was now dressed, so I invited him into the breakfast-room, gave him a cup of coffee (which, to my credit, I didn’t poison), and began on my own eggs and toast.

“Fire away,” said I briefly.

“I suppose you know I’m going to be married?” he remarked.

“No, I hadn’t heard,” I replied, feigning to be entirely occupied with a very nimble egg. “Rather a busy time for marrying, isn’t it? Who is she?”

He gave a heavy laugh.

“You needn’t pretend to be so very innocent; I expect you could give a pretty good guess.”

“Mme. Devarges?” I asked blandly. “Suitable match; about your age—”

“I wish to the devil you wouldn’t try to be funny!” he exclaimed. “You know as well as I do it’s the signorina.”

“Really?” I replied. “Well, well! I fancied you were a little touched in that quarter. And she has consented to make you happy?”

I was curious to see what he would say. I knew he was a bad liar, and, as a fact, I believe he told the truth on this occasion, for he answered:

“Says she never cared a straw for anyone else.”

Oh, signorina!

“Not even Whittingham?” I asked maliciously.

“Hates the old ruffian!” said the colonel. “I once thought she had a liking for you, Martin, but she laughed at the idea. I’m glad of it, for we should have fallen out.”

I smiled in a somewhat sickly way, and took refuge in my cup. When I emerged, I asked:

“And when is it to be?”

“Next Saturday.”

“So soon?”

“Yes,” he said. “Fact is, between you and me, Martin, she’s ready enough.”

This was too disgusting. But whether the colonel was deceiving me, or the signorina had deceived him, I didn’t know—a little bit of both, probably. I saw, however, what the colonel’s game was plainly enough; he was, in his clumsy way, warning me off his preserves, for, of course, he knew my pretensions, and probably that they had met with some success, and I don’t think I imposed on him very much. But I was anxious to avoid a rupture and gain time.

“I must call and congratulate the lady,” I said.

The colonel couldn’t very well object to that, but he didn’t like it.

“Well, Christina told me she was very busy, but I dare say she’ll see you for a few minutes.”

“I dare say she will,” I said dryly.

“I must be off now. I shall have to be about all day, trying to catch those infernal fellows who destroyed the bills.”

“You won’t be doing any business to-day, then?”

“What, about settling the Government?” he asked, grinning. “Not just yet. Wait till I’ve got the signorina and the money, and then we’ll see about that. You think about the money, my boy!”

Much to my relief he then departed, and as he went out I swore that neither signorina nor money should he ever have. In the course of the next twenty-four hours I must find a way to prevent him.

“Rather early for a call,” said I, “but I must see the signorina.”

On my way up I met several people, and heard some interesting facts. In the first place, no trace had appeared of Don Antonio and his daughter; rumor declared that they had embarked on The Songstress with the President and his faithful doctor. Secondly, Johnny Carr was still in bed at the Golden House (this from Mme. Devarges, who had been to see him); but his men had disappeared, after solemnly taking the oath to the new Government. Item three: The colonel had been received with silence and black looks by the troops, and two officers had vanished into space, both Americans, and the only men of any good in a fight. Things were looking rather blue, and I began to think that I also should like to disappear, provided I could carry off my money and my mistress with me. My scruples about loyalty had been removed by the colonel’s overbearing conduct, and I was ready for any step that promised me the fulfillment of my own designs. It was pretty evident that there would be no living with McGregor in his present frame of mind, and I was convinced that my best course would be to cut the whole thing, or, if that proved impossible, to see what bargain I could make with the President. Of course, all would go smoothly with him if I gave up the dollars and the lady; a like sacrifice would conciliate McGregor. But then, I didn’t mean to make it.

“One or other I will have,” said I, as I knocked at the door of “Mon Repos,” “and both if possible.”

The signorina was looking worried; indeed, I thought she had been crying.

“Did you meet my aunt on your way up?” she asked, the moment I was announced.

“No,” said I. — “I’ve sent her away,” she continued. “All this fuss frightens her, so I got the colonel’s leave (for you know we mustn’t move without permission now liberty has triumphed) for her to seek change of air.”

“Where’s she going to?” I said.

“Home,” said the signorina.

I didn’t know where “home” was, but I never ask what I am not meant to know.

“Are you left alone?”

“Yes. I know it’s not correct. But you see, Jack, I had to choose between care for my money and care for my reputation. The latter is always safe in my own keeping; the former I wasn’t so sure about.”

“Oh, so you’ve given it to Mrs. Carrington?”

“Yes, all but five thousand dollars.”

“Does the colonel know that?”

“Dear me, of course not! or he’d never have let her go.”

“You’re very wise,” said I. “I only wish I could have sent my money with her.”

“I’m afraid that would have made dear aunt rather bulky,” said the signorina, tittering.

“Yes, such a lot of mine’s in cash,” I said regretfully. “But won’t they find it on her?”

“Not if they’re gentlemen,” replied the signorina darkly.

Evidently I could not ask for further details; so, without more ado, I disclosed my own perilous condition and the colonel’s boasts about herself.

“What a villain that man is!” she exclaimed. “Of course, I was civil to him, but I didn’t say half that. You didn’t believe I did, Jack?”

There’s never any use in being unpleasant, so I said I had rejected the idea with scorn.

“But what’s to be done? If I’m here to-morrow, he’ll take the money, and, as likely as not, cut my throat if I try to stop him.”

“Yes, and he’ll marry me,” chimed in the signorina. “Jack, we must have a counter-revolution.”

“I don’t see what good that’ll do,” I answered dolefully. “The President will take the money just the same, and I expect he’ll marry you just the same.”

“Of the two, I would rather have him. Now don’t rage, Jack! I only said, ‘of the two.’ But you’re quite right; it couldn’t help us much to bring General Whittingham back.”

“To say nothing of the strong probability of my perishing in the attempt.”

“Let me think,” said the signorina, knitting her brows.

“May I light a cigarette and help you?”

She nodded permission, and I awaited the result of her meditation.

She sat there, looking very thoughtful and troubled, but it seemed to me as if she were rather undergoing a conflict of feeling than thinking out a course of action. Once she glanced at me, then turned away with a restless movement and a sigh.

I finished my cigarette, and flinging it away, strolled up to the window to look out. I had stood there a little while, when I heard her call softly:

“Jack!”

I turned and came to her, kneeling down by her side and taking her hands.

She gazed rather intently into my face with unusual gravity. Then she said:

“If you have to choose between me and the money, which will it be?”

I kissed her hand for answer.

“If the money is lost, won’t it all come out? And then, won’t they call you dishonest?”

“I suppose so,” said I. — “You don’t mind that?”

“Yes, I do. Nobody likes being called a thief—especially when there’s a kind of truth about it. But I should mind losing you more.”

“Are you really very fond of me, Jack? No, you needn’t say so. I think you are. Now I’ll tell you a secret. If you hadn’t come here, I should have married General Whittingham long ago. I stayed here intending to do it (oh, yes, I’m not a nice girl, Jack), and he asked me very soon after you first arrived. I gave him my money, you know, then.”

I was listening intently. It seemed as if some things were going to be cleared up.

“Well,” she continued, “you know what happened. You fell in love with me—I tried to make you; and then I suppose I fell a little in love with you. At any rate I told the President I wouldn’t marry him just then. Some time after, I wanted some money, and I asked him to give me back mine. He utterly refused; you know his quiet way. He said he would keep it for ‘Mrs. Whittingham.’ Oh, I could have killed him! But I didn’t dare to break with him openly; besides, he’s very hard to fight against. We had constant disputes; he would never give back the money, and I declared I wouldn’t marry him unless I had it first, and not then unless I chose. He was very angry and swore I should marry him without a penny of it; and so it went on. But he never suspected you, Jack; not till quite the end. Then we found out about the debt, you know; and about the same time I saw he at last suspected something between you and me. And the very day before we came to the bank he drove me to desperation. He stood beside me in this room, and said, Christina, I am growing old. I shall wait no longer. I believe you’re in love with that young Martin.’ Then he apologized for his plain speaking, for he’s always gentle in manner. And I defied him. And then, Jack, what do you think he did?”

I sprang up in a fury.

“What?” I cried.

“He laughed!” said the signorina, with tragic intensity. “I couldn’t stand that, so I joined the colonel in upsetting him. Ah, he shouldn’t have laughed at me!”

And indeed she looked at this moment a dangerous subject for such treatment.

“I knew what no one else knew, and I could influence him as no one else could, and I had my revenge. But now,” she said, “it all ends in nothing.”

And she broke down, sobbing.

Then, recovering herself, and motioning me to be still, she went on:

“You may think, after holding him at bay so long, I have little to fear from the colonel. But it’s different. The President has no scruples; but he is a gentleman—as far as women are concerned. I mean—he wouldn’t—”

She stopped.

“But McGregor?” I asked, in a hoarse whisper.

She drooped her head on my shoulder.

“I daren’t stay here, Jack, with him,” she whispered. “If you can’t take me away, I must go to the President. I shall be at least safe with him!”

“Damn the ruffian!” I growled; not meaning the President, but his successor; “I’ll shoot him!”

“No, no, Jack!” she cried. “You must be quiet and cautious. But I must go to-night—to-night, Jack, either with you or to the President.”

“My darling, you shall come with me,” said I. — “Where?”

“Oh, out of this somewhere.”

“How are we to escape?”

“Now, you sit down, dear, and try to stop crying—you break my heart—and I’ll think. It’s my turn now.”

I carried her to the sofa, and she lay still, but with her eyes fixed on me. I was full of rage against McGregor, but I couldn’t afford the luxury of indulging it, so I gave my whole mind to finding a way out for us. At last I seemed to hit upon a plan.

The signorina saw the inspiration in my eye. She jumped up and came to me.

“Have you got it, Jack?” she said.

“I think so—if you will trust yourself to me, and don’t mind an uncomfortable night.”

“Go on.”

“You know my little steam launch? It will be dark to-night. If we can get on board with a couple of hours’ start we can show anybody a clean pair of heels. She travels a good pace, and it’s only fifty miles to safety and foreign soil. I shall land there a beggar!”

“I don’t mind that, Jack,” she said. “I have my five thousand, and aunt will join us with the rest. But how are we to get on board? Besides, O Jack! the President watches the coast every night with The Songstress—and you know she’s got steam—Mr. Carr just had auxiliary steam put in.”

“No,” I said, “I didn’t know about that. Look here, Christina; excuse the question, but can you communicate with the President?”

“Yes,” she said, after a second’s hesitation.

This was what I suspected.

“And will he believe what you tell him?”

“I don’t know. He might and he might not. He’ll probably act as if he didn’t.”

I appreciated the justice of this forecast of General Whittingham’s measures.

“Well, we must chance it,” I said. “At any rate, better be caught by him than stay here. We were, perhaps, a little hasty with that revolution of ours.”

“I never thought the colonel was so wicked,” said the signorina.

We had no time to waste in abusing our enemy; the question was how to outwit him. I unfolded my plan to the signorina, not at all disguising from her the difficulties, and even dangers, attendant upon it. Whatever may have been her mind before and after, she was at this moment either so overcome with her fear of the colonel, or so carried away by her feeling for me, that she made nothing of difficulties and laughed at dangers, pointing out that though failure would be ignominious, it could not substantially aggravate our present position. Whereas, if we succeeded—

The thought of success raised a prospect of bliss in which we reveled for a few minutes; then, warned by the stroke of twelve, we returned to business.

“Are you going to take any of the money away with you?” she asked.

“No,” said I, “I don’t think so. It would considerably increase the risk if I were seen hanging about the bank; you know he’s got spies all over the place. Besides, what good would it do? I couldn’t stick to it, and I’m not inclined to run any more risks merely to save the bank’s pocket. The bank hasn’t treated me so well as all that. I propose to rely on your bounty till I’ve time to turn round.”

“Now, shall I come for you?” I asked her when we had arranged the other details.

“I think not,” she said. “I believe the colonel has one of my servants in his pay. I can slip out by myself, but I couldn’t manage so well if you were with me. The sight of you would excite curiosity. I will meet you at the bottom of Liberty Street.”

“At two o’clock in the morning exactly, please. Don’t come through the Piazza, and Liberty Street. Come round by the drive. [This was a sort of boulevard encircling the town, where the aristocracy was wont to ride and drive.] Things ought to be pretty busy about the bank by then, and no one will notice you. You have a revolver?”

“Yes.”

“All right. Don’t hurt anyone if you can help it; but if you do, don’t leave him to linger in agony. Now I’m off,” I continued. “I suppose I’d better not come and see you again?”

“I’m afraid you mustn’t, Jack. You’ve been here two hours already.”

“I shall be in my rooms in the afternoon. If anything goes wrong, send your carriage down the street and have it stopped at the grocer’s. I shall take that for a sign.”

The signorina agreed, and we parted tenderly. My last words were:

“You’ll send that message to Whittingham at once?”

“This moment,” she said, as she waved me a kiss from the door of the room.