“Your Honor, the señorita has choked you.” He supported the Governor, and addressing Marriet Motuble, said: “You are accountable, miss, for the helpless condition of my master. You seem to remember too much.” All the time he had spoken to her, his back was turned. Now, facing the place where she had stood, he said: “I take charge of the house, now that my master is unconscious, so, you git!” But to his great dismay she was gone. He rang for help, and soon the Governor was lying comfortably in his own bed. CHAPTER VIII. A CONFESSED CRIME. Governor Lehumada did not faint, nor was he in the least injured by the passionate embrace of Miss Motuble. He was speechless from surprise only, and he allowed his men to assist him to his room, realizing that a few moments of quiet for reflection was what he needed. He assured Juan that all was well, and that he wished to be alone for a few minutes. Juan shook his head as though he had many misgivings, and quietly left the room. He walked slowly down the hall in deep meditation. He wished that he were off duty, so he could follow the strange señorita. He went into the yard and gazed wistfully up and down the street, in the hope of seeing her. Heaving a sigh, he turned to enter the house again, and murmured to himself: “It must be the evil in the fluid that is causing the trouble.” Some one startled him from his reverie, by saying: “You are his Honor’s man Juan, are you not?” “I certainly am,” he replied. “I was told to give you this letter, and request of you to give it to his Honor at one o’clock this afternoon sharp.” With that he handed Juan an official-looking envelope, and hurried away. Juan turned the large letter over and over, and read the address on the back, several times: “To His Honor, Governor of Chihuahua.” “Humph! Well, for once in my life, I wish I was ‘His Honor.’ I would make quick work of seeing on the inside of this letter. Association with these scientists has caused me to be a man of much thought. I, too, have great ideas. I know a thing or two. Ha! ha! It does not take a scientist; a Governor or a President, to know that ‘His Honor’ is in love, or that there is pending (he straightened himself up and smiled at the big sentence he was framing) a fearful calamity, and the greatest violence of it will fall upon this town.” At that moment the child Catalina ran up to him, and said: “Oh, Juan, let me go to him at once. He is in great trouble; the town has gone wrong. Juan, guard his Honor night and day. Do not let anyone enter the house without his knowledge. Watch for Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir. You know him, do you not?” “The great Don,—ha! ha! I do know him, señorita.” “And the priest, Father Hernandez?” “Him, too, _niña_. I tell my sins to him every week,” said Juan. “Oh, Juan, how can you?”