Savrola took up a paper that lay beside him on the table. "This was sent off at half-past twelve." Tiro looked at it. It was signed _Moret_ and ran as follows: _Am preparing for final assault. All well_. "It is a forgery," said the Subaltern simply. "I started myself before the half-hour, and Señor Moret had been dead ten minutes then. Somebody has assumed the command." "By Jove," said Savrola getting up from the table. "Kreutze!" He caught up his hat and cane. "Come on; he will most certainly murder Molara, and probably the others, if he is not stopped. I must go there myself." "What?" said Renos. "Most irregular; your place is here." "Send an officer," suggested Godoy. "I have none to send of sufficient power with the people, unless you will go yourself." "I! No, certainly not! I would not think of it," said Godoy quickly. "It would be useless; I have no authority over the mob." "That is not quite the tone you have adopted all the morning," replied Savrola quietly, "or at least since the Government attack was repulsed." Then turning to Tiro, he said, "Let us start." They were leaving the room when the Subaltern saw that the man who had been writing in the corner was looking at him. To his astonishment he recognised Miguel. The Secretary bowed satirically. "Here we are again," he said; "you were wise to follow." "You insult me," said Tiro with profound contempt. "Rats leave a sinking ship." "The wiser they," rejoined the Secretary; "they could do no good by staying. I have always heard that aides-de-camp are the first to leave a fight." "You are a damned dirty dog," said the Subaltern falling back on a rudimentary form of repartee with which he was more familiar. "I can wait no longer," said Savrola in a voice that was a plain command. Tiro obeyed, and they left the room. Walking down the passage and through the hall, where Savrola was loudly cheered, they reached the entrance, where a carriage was waiting. A dozen mounted men, with red sashes and rifles, ranged themselves about it as an escort. The crowd outside the gates, seeing the great leader and hearing the applause within, raised a shout. Savrola turned to the commander of the escort. "I need no guard," he said; "that is necessary only for tyrants. I will go alone." The escort fell back. The two men entered the carriage and, drawn by strong horses, passed out into the streets. "You dislike Miguel?" asked Savrola after a while. "He is a traitor." "There are plenty about the city. Now I suppose you would call me a traitor." "Ah! but you have always been one," replied Tiro bluntly. Savrola gave a short laugh. "I mean," continued the other, "that you have always been trying to upset things." "I have been loyal to my treachery," suggested Savrola. "Yes,--we have always been at war with you; but this viper----"