“Well, you give a dog a bad name,” he said, “and it sticks to him. So, they came to me. I’m no grand-stand fighter; I’m not a fighter at all. I think fighting is silly. You’ve got all the young men you want to stop bullets for you, without me. They like it. They like to catch ‘em in their teeth. I don’t. But that’s not saying that I’m no good. You know the old gag of the lion and the little mousie, and how the mouse came along and chewed the lion out of the net. Well, that’s me. I’m no lion going ‘round seeking whom I may devour.’ I’m just a sewer rat. But I can tell you all,” he cried, slapping the table with his hand, “that, if it hadn’t been for little mousie, every one of you lions would have been shot against a stone wall. And if I can’t prove it, you can take a shot at me. I’ve been the traitor. I’ve been the go-between from the first. I arranged the whole thing. The Alvarez crowd told me to tell Garcia that even if he did succeed in getting into the Palace the Isthmian Line would drive him out of it in a week. But that if he’d go away from the country, they’d pay him fifty thousand pesos and a pension. He’s got the Isthmian Line’s promise in writing. “This joint attack he’s planned for Wednesday night is a fake. He doesn’t mean to fight. Nobody means to fight except against you. Every soldier and every gun in the city is to be sent out to Pecachua to trap you into an ambush. Natives who pretend to have deserted from Alvarez are to lead you into it. That was an idea of mine. They thought it was very clever. Garcia is to make a pretence of attacking the bridge and a pretence of being driven back. Then messengers are to bring word that the Foreign Legion has been cut to pieces at Pecachua, and he is to disband his army, and tell every man to look out for himself. “If you want proofs of this, I’ll furnish them to any man here that you’ll pick out. I told Alvarez that one of your officers was working against you with me, and that at the proper time I’d produce him. Now, you choose which officer that shall be. He can learn for himself that all I’m telling you is true. But that will take time!” Aiken cried, as Laguerre made a movement to interrupt him. “And if you want to get out of this fix alive, you’d better believe me, and start for the coast at once--now--to-night!” Laguerre laughed and sprang to his feet. His eyes were shining and the color had rushed to his cheeks. He looked like a young man masquerading in a white wig. He waved his hand at Aiken with a gesture that was part benediction and part salute. “I do believe you,” he cried, “and thank you, sir.” He glanced sharply at the officers around him as though he were weighing the value of each.