ot. Once for all!

Sarrasin kept his watch under his pillow, safe within reach. He wanted
to be sure of the exact minute when everything was to occur. He fancied
he heard some faint moving in the corridor, and he turned on the
electric light and gave one glance at his watch, and then summoned
darkness again. He found that it was exactly two o'clock. Now, he
thought, if anything is going to be done, it must be done very soon; we
can't have long to wait. He was glad. The most practised and
case-hardened soldier is not fond of having to wait for his enemy.

Sarrasin had left his door--Ericson's door--unlocked and unbarred.
Everybody who knew the Dictator intimately knew that he had a sort of
_tic_ for leaving his doors open. Sarrasin knew this; but, besides, he
was anxious, as has been already said, to draw the assassin-plot, if
such plot there were, into him, not to bar it out and keep it on the
other side. Now the way was clear for the enemy. Sarrasin lay low and
listened. Yes, there was undoubtedly the sound of feet in the corridor.
It was the sound of one pair of feet, Sarrasin felt certain. He had not
campaigned with Red Shirt and his Sioux for nothing; he could
distinguish between two sounds and four sounds. 'Come, this is going to
be an easy job,' he thought to himself. 'I am not much afraid of any one
man who is likely to turn up. Bring along your bears.' The old soldier
chuckled to himself; he was getting to be rather amused with the whole
proceeding. He lay down, and even in the lightness of his plucky heart
indulged in simulation of deep breathings intended to convey to the
possibly coming assassin that the victim was fast asleep, and merely
waiting to be killed off conveniently without trouble to anybody, even
to himself. He was a little, just a little, sorry that Mrs. Sarrasin
could not be present to see how well he could manage the job. But her
presence would not be practicable, and she would be sure to believe that
he had borne himself well under whatever difficulty and danger. So
perhaps he breathed the name of his lady-love, as good knights did in
the days to which he and his lady-love ought to have belonged; and then
he committed his soul to his Creator.

The subtle sound came near the door. The door was gently tried--opened
with a soft dexterity and suppleness of touch which much impressed the
sham sleeper in the bed. 'No heavy British hand there,' Sarrasin
thought, recalling his many memories of many