If possessed of guile, Berthe could not have done better. With Jacqueline's card, used only because it had a blank side, her admittance was certain and immediate. She passed the lackey into a luxurious apartment, Marshal Bazaine's private cabinet. At one end there was a Japanese screen with a lamp behind, and at intervals came the sound of someone turning the leaves of a book. But Berthe thought solely of her errand. The marshal, thick necked, heavy cheeked and stocky, was standing, waiting for her. "So," he exclaimed, "milady is arrived, eh, and you bring me her commands?" "No, Your Excellency, my mistress does not know that I am here. When she learns, she will dismiss me. I----" The marshal of France grew cold. "It was a decoy then, the card you used?" he interrupted. "And was that one also, young woman, when you threatened that I should regret----" "You will indeed regret, monsieur, if you do not let me speak. There's a mistake to correct if--if it's not too late." The chief of the Army of Occupation shrugged his shoulders until the back of his neck folded over itself. He had been correcting mistakes ever since Maximilian's landing. But he was a child of the people himself, and the distress in her eyes made him patient. "Well, what is it?" he asked. "It is an American. They will shoot him, monsieur!" "Ah, one who interests the young person now before me, eh?" "And I want you to stop them, monsieur! I want----" "Child, child, whom am I to stop?" "Colonel Lopez, monsieur. The American escaped once, but mademoiselle gave him up again. He'd saved mademoiselle's life, too. And mine." The veteran soldier rubbed his finger tips on his bald, bullet-like head. "He saves her, and she gives him to Lopez. He must be an important species of American!" "Yes, yes, monsieur." "There, don't worry. His Majesty will pardon your friend to-morrow--if," he added to himself, "only from habit." "But Lopez will shoot him before the Emperor knows." The marshal had shrewd eyes, and now they opened wide. "Getting more important, our American!" he grumbled uneasily. "Berthe, did your mistress know that Lopez would shoot him before he could be pardoned?" "Oh yes, monsieur." [Illustration: "BERTHE" "... Brought down the ponderous knocker so terrifically that it abashed her, for all her present agitation"] "Name of a name, what does she want him killed for? Why is this drole of a Lopez in such a hurry?--See here, child, you know something more. What did you mean by my regretting----" "Because, because everybody seemed to think that the poor brave American had come with an offer of aid for Maximilian, and as you need more troops, I thought----" "Who, in all mercy, is this American?" "A Confederate officer, monsieur."