"Because so long as the Empire had a chance, or he thought it had, he hoped for more coddling. You see, senor, he thought Marquez was coming back with relief. There was that--that Frenchwoman you know of--who brought news from the capital. But Maximilian dared not make the news public. He forged a letter instead, a letter from Marquez, and he had its contents proclaimed. Marquez had been delayed, so all Queretaro read, but he had at last destroyed the Liberals in his path, and was then hurrying here with his victorious army. This false hope blinded Lopez with the others in there. But when Marquez did not come, when utter demoralization set in, when we were a starving town against thirty-five thousand outside, when there were scores of deserters every day, when any man who talked of surrender was executed, and still no Marquez, then Lopez began----" "I see, he began to be persuaded?" "Still, he wanted to be a general. But the other generals forced Maximilian not to promote him." "So he was disappointed?" "And persuaded, senor. The sally was already planned for this morning, but Lopez argued obstacles, and so got it postponed until to-morrow morning. He wanted to--to act on his--persuasion. And that is why," Murguia got to his feet and limped around the table to Driscoll, "and that is why," he ended in a croaking whisper, "why I am here!" "And the red puppy, how near here did _he_ come with you?" Again Murguia darted at his questioner that uneasy glance of admiration. "Lopez is waiting between the lines," he replied. "As to our own lines, we passed them easily, since Lopez commands the reserve brigade and places the sentinels himself around La Cruz monastery." "Oh, does he?" Driscoll whistled softly. "But what's your plan?" He put the question sympathetically, which disturbed Don Anastasio vastly more than the American's peremptory tone in the beginning. "What's your plan?" he asked again, gently coaxing.