The palpable falsehood was enough to excite the young man's worst fears. General Quiroga, it was well known, had left his infantry at Queretaro. Moreover, it was quite impossible for troops to enter the closely besieged place without being heard and recognized by the besiegers. Something like the truth flashed through his brain. And yet how was he to account for the presence and words of Colonel Lopez, whose interest, as well as every tie of duty and gratitude, must bind him to the Emperor? In his bewilderment he exclaimed: "Amid so many falsehoods, I suspect treason." After a moment's hesitation the strange officer replied: "Have no fear, senor; you are in the hands of the regular army. We are not guerrilleros; we belong to the battalion of the supremos poderes of the republic." For a moment the lieutenant stood petrified. The whole truth, in all its hideousness, burst upon him. The enemy was in possession of the place. What horrors would come next? And yet, Colonel Lopez--was it a hallucination? Could he have mistaken his identity in the darkness of the night? He called the old sergeant and asked him if he had recognized the colonel. "Yes," replied the sergeant, who, having been roughly handled by their superior officer, had good reason to remember. "But then," cried the young man, beside himself, now that the terrors of the situation dawned upon his understanding, "he must be a traitor! He is going to deliver up the Emperor!" "Are you only now finding this out?" sadly queried the old soldier. Lieutenant Haus once more turned to the strange officer. "Then," he asked, "it is Colonel Lopez who introduced you here?" "Certainly," he replied. And, smiling: "But, I repeat it, you need have no fear. We are of the regular army. No harm will come to you." He looked toward La Cruz, the improvised stronghold where the Emperor had his headquarters, hoping to see some sign of a struggle--the flash of a musket, the noise of resistance, a movement, a signal. But no. The dark mass of the convent building detached itself with imposing grandeur against the night sky, and silence reigned everywhere. He was a prisoner. The Juarists were in Queretaro, and treason even then was stealthily completing its loathsome task of destruction without his being able to give one word of warning to its victims. The mysterious officer, guessing his thoughts, said quietly: "The whole convent is already in our power. Your emperor must be taken even now." At this moment Captain Gontron, a Frenchman, appeared upon the scene, seemingly free, but in a towering rage.