pluribus unum_. Oh, for a leader! But our incomparable chief
of yore will not stir. Yet there _was_ one, gallant cavalier of the
South, peerless captain, just the dauntless heart for any forlorn hope
under the starry vault of heaven, if he were only here! If he, John D.
Driscoll, were only----"

The matter stopped abruptly. More than that, by force of habit the
scribe had ringed the figures "30" underneath. They meant "finis." The
editor had known, then, that he would not return to end his harangue.

"A flea bite," mused Jacqueline, "would interrupt the penning of an
Alexandrian line. Now, I wonder who or what the flea could have been,
and what----"

But there, she would ask herself no question concerning the editorially
mentioned "John D. Driscoll."

It was mid afternoon when Colonel Dupin, like a shaggy, dripping bear,
returned to the house and begged leave to dry himself. Standing before
the fire, he reloaded his holster pistols. They were tremendous, elegant
utensils of French make, with a nine-chambered cylinder, and a second
barrel underneath that carried a rifle ball. Where no prisoners were
taken on either side, the owner of such a weapon usually reserved the
murderous slug for himself, and the loading of that lower barrel became
a sort of ghastly rite. Jacqueline shuddered as she watched him fix on
the cap.

"How do you explain your desertion of Her Majesty?" she asked. "Our Fra
Diavolo should thank me for drawing you off."

The Tiger adjusted the double hammer so that it would play on the
cylinder first. A rumbling chuckle came from the depths of his throat.

"I should be honored with mademoiselle's approval," he said, "for at
court mademoiselle is a guileful warrior. The casualties there may not
be so sanguinary, but the strategic principle is the same. Know, then,
that Rodrigo Galan employs a spy whom I own, body and soul. By now
Rodrigo has learned from this spy that the Imperial coach broke down,
and that to-night Her Majesty rests--here. So you see that she is not
likely to be attacked----"

"But I see that _we_ are, parbleu!"

"Of course," and the Tiger unctuously rubbed his hands in the blaze.
"It's my chance to trap him. He has only three hundred men."

"And you, monsieur?"

"Our mutual spy has told him that I have less than two hundred men. The
brigand knows that I was forced to leave a garrison at Tampico."

"But how many have you, really?"

Dupin motioned her to the window. But she s