far as this continent is concerned, in Rio harbor, when
Peixoto handed you over to the British admiral, and you claimed to be
an American citizen, and were sent on board the 'Detroit.' If there's
any doubt about that we've only got to cable to Rio Janeiro--to either
legation. But what's the use? They know me here, and they don't know
you, and I do. You'll have to go to jail and stay there."

"Oh, well, if you put it that way, I'll go," said Burke. "But," he
added, in a lower voice, "it's too late, Clay."

The expression of amusement on Clay's face, and his ease of manner,
fell from him at the words, and he pulled Burke back into the chair
again. "What do you mean?" he asked, anxiously.

"I mean just that, it's too late," Burke answered. "I don't mind going
to jail. I won't be there long. My work's all done and paid for. I
was only staying on to see the fun at the finish, to see you fellows
made fools of."

"Oh, you're sure of that, are you?" asked Clay.

"My dear boy!" exclaimed the American, with a suggestion in his speech
of his Irish origin, as his interest rose. "Did you ever know me to go
into anything of this sort for the sentiment of it? Did you ever know
me to back the losing side? No. Well, I tell you that you fellows
have no more show in this than a parcel of Sunday-school children. Of
course I can't say when they mean to strike. I don't know, and I
wouldn't tell you if I did. But when they do strike there'll be no
striking back. It'll be all over but the cheering."

Burke's tone was calm and positive. He held the centre of the stage
now, and he looked from one to the other of the serious faces around
him with an expression of pitying amusement.

"Alvarez may get off, and so may Madame Alvarez," he added, lowering
his voice and turning his face away from Stuart. "But not if she shows
herself in the streets, and not if she tries to take those drafts and
jewels with her."

"Oh, you know that, do you?" interrupted Clay.

"I know nothing," Burke replied. "At least, nothing to what the rest
of them know. That's only the gossip I pick up at headquarters. It
doesn't concern me. I've delivered my goods and given my receipt for
the money, and that's all I care about. But if it will make an old
friend feel any more comfortable to have me in jail, why, I'll go,
that's all."

Clay sat with pursed lips looking at Stuart. The two boys leaned with
their elbows on the tables and stared at Bur