"Within the hour, Senor," he said urbanely. "With the guard I shall place over you it is no harm, I am sure, to observe that The Master is at his retreat in Punta Arenas. You will go there to-morrow, as I go to-night." He moved toward the door, and smiled again, and added pleasantly: "The Senhorina was delivered to the Senhor Ribiera this morning." * * * * * Matters moved swiftly after that. A servant brought cigarettes and a tray of liquors--which Bell did not touch. There was the sound of movement, the scurrying, furtive haste which seems always to imply a desperate sort of fear. Bell waited in a terrible calmness, while rage hammered at his temples. Then the clattering of horses' hoofs outside. A carriage was being brought. Soldiers came in and a man beckoned curtly. Bell stuffed his pockets with smokes and followed languidly. He was realizing that there was little pretense of secrecy about the power of The Master's deputy here. Police and soldiers.... But Paraguay, of all the nations of the southern continent, has learned a certain calm realism about governmental matters. The man who has power is obeyed. The man who has not power is not obeyed. Titles are of little importance, though it is the custom for the man with the actual power eventually to assume the official rank of authority. Since the President in Asuncion was no more than a figurehead who called anxiously upon the Senor Francia every morning for instructions concerning the management of the nation, Francia indifferently ignored him whenever he chose and gave orders directly. There would be very little surprise and no disorder whatever when The Master proclaimed Paraguay a viceroyalty of his intended empire. * * * * * The carriage went smartly through the cobbled streets with a cavalry escort all about it. An officer sat opposite Bell with his hand on his revolver. "I am receiving at least the honors of royalty," Bell commented coldly to him, in Spanish. "Senor," said the officer harshly, "this is the state in which the deputies of The Master were escorted." He watched Bell heavily, but with the desperate intentness of a man who knows no excuses will be received if his prisoner escapes. Out of the town to a flying field, where a multi-engined plane was warming up. It was one of the ships that had been at The Master's _fazenda_ of Cuyaba, one of the ships that had fled from the burning plantation. Bell was ushered into it with a ceremonious suspicion. Almost immediately he was handcuffed to his seat. Two men took their place behind him. The big ship rolled forward, lifted, steadied, and after a single circling set out to the southeast for Buenos Aires. * * * * * The whole performance had been run off with the smoothly oiled precision of an iron discipline exercised upon men in the grip of deadly fear.