Señor Martinez threw his head back haughtily, and asked: “Does the present _régime_ permit the arrest of quiet, law-abiding citizens?” “Certainly not, certainly not,” replied the officer. “It is not becoming to your present disguise for you to ask such a question.” Attracted by the noise outside, Rev. Isaac Tombstone walked to the door of the tomb to see the cause of the disturbance. Julio Murillo followed him and said, addressing the officer of the law: “Bring the prisoners here, into the Motuble tomb.” His orders were instantly obeyed. It was an opportune moment for Rev. Isaac Tombstone, so he thought. He stepped aside to allow the law and its trespassers to pass into the tomb. And as he bowed in a very dignified manner to them, mentally exclaimed: “Now is my time!” and ran to the end of the tomb, jerking off his false wig and beard and his spectacles as he went. He turned his coat inside out, either side made to wear outside, lit a cigar, and before anyone was conscious he had left his place by the door of the tomb, his disguise was completely changed, and at a bound he was in the cab. At that moment the song of the bird was again heard, and the officers of the law rushed out to make another arrest, but the cab was fairly flying away from them, and they cried: “It is too late; the bird has flown. We must have one more chance at the fellow.” “Were it not necessary to examine the contents of this metallic coffin,” said Julio, “which is supposed to contain the remains of one Marriet Motuble, we would pursue this man in the physician’s cab.” “One of my men,” said the captain of the force present, “can follow on my air cycle, get assistance, and make the arrest in the city.” “That is a splendid idea,” said the Governor; “a splendid idea. This man is too valuable to science to be allowed to escape. His capture and open confession is the only thing necessary for us to have to convince the entire world of the truth of our wonderful discovery, ‘Memory Fluid.’” “What do you, a common physician of the State, know of ‘Memory Fluid,’ that fake discovery of the Governor’s and his scientific friends?” asked Señor Martinez, in a highly sarcastic tone. To whom Señor Guillermo Gonzales replied: “We are not here to discuss what his Honor knows about ‘Memory Fluid,’ but to fully examine the corpse in this box. Stand close by, friends. I will make the first incision.” Aghast with horror, the two prisoners and the remaining officers of law stepped back. With an instrument that seemed to be made especially for the purpose, Julio Murillo removed the glass plate from the coffin. As he passed his hand over the face of the object before him, he smiled to himself and the two men shivered. “Now, my friend,” he said to Guillermo Gonzales, “now is your time.”