Lucile heard them bustle down the corridor and the slam of a distant door; then all was silent again. She knew what that telegram contained. The tragedy had burst upon them all, that tragedy whose climax must strike her so nearly; but she felt glad she had meant to tell her husband,--and yet more glad that she had not told him. A cynic might have observed that Savrola's confidence, in the safety of his secret, was well founded. She returned to her sitting-room. The uncertainty of the immediate future terrified her. If the revolt succeeded, she and her husband would have to fly for their lives; if it were suppressed the consequences seemed more appalling. One thing was clear: the President would send her out of the capital at once to some place of safety. Whither? Amid all these doubts and conflicting emotions one desire predominated,--to see Savrola again, to bid him good-bye, to tell him she had not betrayed him. It was impossible. A prey to many apprehensions she walked aimlessly about the room, awaiting the developements she feared. Meanwhile the President and his secretary had reached the private office. Miguel shut the door. Both looked at each other. "It has come," said Molara with a long breath. "In an evil hour," replied the Secretary. "I shall win, Miguel. Trust to my star, my luck,--I will see this thing through. We shall crush them; but much is to be done. Now write this telegram to our agent at Port Said; send it in cipher and clear the line: _Charter at once fast despatch-boat and go personally to meet Admiral de Mello, who with fleet left Laurania midnight 8th instant for Port Said. Stop. Order him in my name return here urgent. Stop. Spare no expense_. Now send that off. With good luck the ships should be here to-morrow night." Miguel sat down and began to put the message into code. The President paced the room excitedly; then he rang the bell; a servant entered. "Has Colonel Sorrento come yet?" "No, Your Excellency." "Send and tell him to come at once." "He has been sent for, Your Excellency." "Send again." The man disappeared. Molara rang the bell once more. He met the servant in the doorway. "Is there a mounted orderly?" "Yes, Your Excellency." "Finished, Miguel?" "Here," said the Secretary, getting up and handing the message to the startled attendant,--"at speed." "Go on," shouted the President, striking the table with his open hand, and the man fled from the room. The sound of the galloping horse somewhat allayed Molara's impatience. "He crossed the frontier last night at nine o'clock, Miguel; he should have been at Turga at daybreak. We have a garrison there, a small one, but enough to delay the advance. Why is there no news? This telegram comes from Paris, from the Foreign Minister. We should have heard from--who is it commands the post?" "I don't know, Your Excellency. The Colonel will be here directly; but the silence is ugly."