Declining the offer of a glass of wine, Peter delivered his dispatch. Keenly observing the faces of the Rioguayan officials as one of the number translated the terms of the ultimatum, Corbold knew that there would be no bombardment. In fact, the mildness of the terms was a complete surprise. They expected nothing less than a demand for the surrender of the principal officers of the port and the instant payment of a vast sum of money to save the town from destruction. Then they explained the situation to the British envoy. As far as San Antonio was concerned, the terms were accepted, and probably the rest of the Republic of Rioguay would surrender on the same conditions. For, unknown to the British admiral, a revolution had broken out. President Jaime Samuda had been shot during the fighting in the streets of the capital, Don Ramon Diaz and Don José Cordova, his principal lieutenants, were in the hands of the insurgents, and the last of the troops fighting for President Samuda had laid down their arms. Eight bells, noon, was being sounded off when Peter went on board the _Royal Oak_ bearing a written acceptance of the British admiral's ultimatum. At 2 p.m. the fleet stood towards San Antonio. An hour later, the Rioguayan colours on board the various warships were replaced by the White Ensign. The forts were taken over by British marines and the town patrolled by armed bluejackets. That evening, Corbold and Cavendish, accompanied by Mackenzie, went ashore. The shops were open, electric tramcars were running, and the town was brilliantly lighted as usual. Everywhere the British seamen and marines were received not as conquerors, but as deliverers from the drastic rule of the dictator, President Samuda. Perhaps most of the demonstrations of friendship were simulated, but the inhabitants of San Antonio were certainly favourably impressed by the demeanour of the victors and by their generous terms. "By Jove! I had no idea that this was such an up-to-date place," remarked Cavendish. "Everyone seems chock-a-block with prosperity. Why weren't the silly asses content? What possessed them to twist the tail of the British lion?" "They were made to," explained Mackenzie. "It was the late President's idea." "But surely they could have declined to risk their lives and property?" rejoined Cavendish. "There were inducements," continued Mackenzie. "Samuda gave them to understand that Great Britain was a pigeon to be plucked. But apart from that, the President's will was law. The Czar of all the Russias in his day was not more autocratic. But they've learned a lesson." "Are you remaining here?" asked Peter. Mackenzie nodded. "Yes," he replied slowly. "I am. I'm away home for a bit, though, but I'll be back before very long. There's money to be made in Rioguay after this trouble's over. And that mystery man--your Uncle Brian--I suppose he'll be out this way again? Or perhaps he's made enough out of his invention to retire into private life?"