"Ah," he cried, "you have come to give your ar-rms to ze inauguration of ze gr-rand r-revolution." And he rolled out his "r’s" in a way to make the revolution very grand indeed. "I have brought more than my arms," I said. "I have the first company of our troops outside." "_Mon Dieu_!" he cried, his pasty face growing paler, and his blinking eyes opening wider in alarm. "_Mon Dieu_! You have come mooch too soon. Ze police will cast ze blow of an eye upon zem, ze alar-rm will sound, and Zip! away goes ze chance of winning by surprise." "That’s so," I exclaimed, with the accent of one overwhelmed at conviction of a lack of judgment. "I will bring my men in and march them up to the Council-room where they can lie hid till the hour comes." "_Non! non!_" cried H. Blasius in alarm. "No one can go to ze Council-room. Zere is no Council-room." His old distrust had overcome the alcoholic enthusiasm with which he had received me, and his eyes blinked cunningly upon me. Then he gave an apprehensive glance at the door by which he had entered, and I was confirmed in the suspicion that it led to the rooms of the conspirators. "Well, if you won’t take me up, I must go by myself. My business must be laid before the Council at once." And I moved with determination toward the suspected door. H. Blasius placed himself in the way with arms outstretched. "_Non--non!_" he cried. "You can not _entrez_ wizout ze _mot d’ordre_--ze password." "Give it to me, then," I demanded. "You are delaying the Council’s business." He was overawed a little by my authoritative tone, but before he could bring his tongue to answer me, the barkeeper accidentally dropped a glass on the floor, and the men whom I had stationed at the door, mistaking the crash for the sounds of conflict, rushed in to my rescue. "The Vigilantes!" cried the barkeeper in dismay, at the sight of the badges and the pick-handles. "_Mon Dieu!_ we are betrayed!" cried H. Blasius, whirling around with a step toward the door that led to the Council-room. I divined his purpose. He was bent on warning the conspirators. With one bound I had him by the collar, and with a fierce wrench dragged him back and flung him against the bar, spluttering inarticulate protests. The barkeeper had seized a revolver, but before he could raise it, he was in the hands of my men. He submitted without resistance and with the cheerful spirit of one to whom the outcome is a matter of small importance. "Keep that man quiet," I said, with the hope that the noise of struggle had not reached the Council-room. Then I gripped H. Blasius by his fat throat. "Give me the countersign!" I demanded. He gave a scream of terror and dropped to his knees. "Have pity--do not keel me. _Mon Dieu_! I am one good citizen. I make no plots wiz ze r-revolutionists."