The Citadel commands the whole of the Plain of the North clear to the distant sea. At its south-eastern end it faces toward the frontier of St. Domingo, the sister republic, fifty miles away. Christophe built it as a central base, controlling the only roads and passes which command the range from Dondon to Valliere, and rendering attack impossible, from the southern side, through Marmalade. (Many names in Haiti give an irresistible appearance of being comic, such as the Duke of Lemonade, Duke of Marmalade, Baron the Prophet Daniel, and Colonel the Baron Roast Beef, but they are intended seriously.) Manuel had gazed over the landscape but a few moments when the sun was veiled in one of the cold, raw cloud-fogs which continually sweep the summit. Billowing, dank masses hurtled about him, blotting out even the outlines of the ruin. For several minutes the grey mists enwreathed him, then, as they lightened, the Cuban saw before him, shadow-like and strange, the figure of the Black Emperor himself. The warders' terror of the ghost of Christophe cramped Manuel's heart for a moment and he fell back. His hand flashed to his pocket, none the less. The figure laughed, a harsh coarse laugh which Manuel knew and recognized at once. "General Leborge," he exclaimed, surprise and self-annoyance struggling in his voice. "It is you!" "But Yes, my friend, it is I. You see, I am not so daring as you. I came secretly. I have been here three days, waiting for you." "But the meeting was set for today!" "It is true. But it was more difficult for me to get here than for you. See you, as a stranger you had not the suspicion of intrusion to combat. No, if it were known that I were here, there would be political difficulties--ah, many! Yes!" The Cuban nodded. He was not especially interested in the political embroilments of his co-conspirator. As a matter of fact, the plot accomplished, it was Manuel's purpose to let enough of the truth leak out to make it seem that Leborge had been a traitor to the Haitian Republic. "Have you seen Cecil?" he asked. "Not yet, No!" answered the negro general. "Me, I had thought he would come with you." "He didn't. And he wasn't on the road from Cap Haitien, either. Queer, too. First time I ever knew him to fail." "So! But I have a feeling he will not fail. He will be here today. Come down to the place of meeting. I have some food and we can have a mouthful while waiting for him." The big negro cast a look at himself. "I do not think we shall be interrupted, No!" he commented. The Cuban showed his teeth in the gleam of a quick smile. "The guards are too much afraid of the ghost of Christophe to dare enter the place," he said. "That was a good idea of yours." The two men turned away from the battlements to the steps which led down toward the dwelling rooms, and Manuel laid finger on lip.