O'Malley interrupted forcefully. "Enough of this! Come with me. I have something more to say to you." He flung open the door into the hall and, taking the general by the arm, fairly dragged him from the room and into the one opposite. The lieutenant and his men looked on in amazement, shuffling their feet and shifting their rifle butts noisily upon the floor. Alaire turned an anxious face to Dave, saying: "He is wonderful. Longorio is almost--afraid of him." "Yes; he may bring him to his senses. If he doesn't--" Dave cast his eyes desperately over the room, conscious all the time that he was being watched with suspicion by the men outside. He stirred restlessly and moistened his lips. "Longorio would be crazy to injure you." Ten minutes passed; fifteen. Alaire leaned, motionless, against the table; Dave paced about, followed by the eyes of the soldiers. One of the latter struck a match, and in the silence it sounded like a gunshot. Dave started, at which the soldiers laughed. They began to talk in murmurs. The odor of cigarette smoke drifted in to the man and the woman. Finally the door through which Father O'Malley and Longorio had passed opened, and the priest emerged. He was alone. His face was flushed and damp; his eyes were glowing. He forced the Mexicans out of his way and, entering the living-room, closed the door behind him. "Well?" his two friends questioned, anxiously. "I've done all I can. The rest is out of our hands." The little man sat down heavily and mopped his forehead. "What does he say?" "He told me to come here and wait. I never saw a man so torn, so distracted." "Then he is wavering. Oh-h!" Alaire clasped her hands in thanksgiving, but the Father cautioned her: "Don't be too sanguine. He is not afraid of consequences. He appears to have no conscience. He is without mercy and seems lost to shame. I have never met a man quite like him. Do you know what he feels at this moment? Chagrin. Yes, mortification raised to the highest pitch, and a sort of stupefaction that you should prefer another man to him. He can't understand your lack of taste." Father O'Malley smiled faintly. "Conceited idiot," Dave growled.