ed until the thing was done. Otherwise,
a quick second shot was to find the heart of Lopez. So Lopez was
exceedingly cautious. However, he commanded here. He was the Emperor's
favorite. Squad after squad, the drowsy Imperialists moved off, letting
the strangers relieve them. So the critical work was achieved, even as
day appeared over the eastern hills. Then he who had kept so close to
Lopez put his revolver away.

"Your bargain is fulfilled, senor," he said. "Accordingly, here's the
paper I was to give you. It is your safe conduct throughout the
Republic. You are free. Go!"

Lopez clutched the thing that meant his life, but as his fingers
tightened over it, his first greed vanished. He stared about him
uncertainly. The Plaza swarmed with men. They were the gray battalion he
had led there. In the dawning light they were still gray. They were the
Supremos Poderes de la Republica. De la Republica? Yes, of the enemy,
and he had brought them. But it was as though he had just awakened, and
found them there. The enemy? The enemy was in La Cruz! With a sharp cry,
he turned and ran back into the monastery. He brushed aside the hateful
gray uniforms. He ran panting up the stone steps. In the dark hall above
he stopped at a cell door, and pounded, and tugged frantically at its
latch.

"Senor, awake! Hurry! We are betrayed! Hurry! Escape--escape----"

Within came a startled sleepy voice, "What, what's--" which changed at
once to reproving dignity. "Can it be?--Lopez!"

"But senor--sire--the Chinacos, the Republicans, they are here already!"

"Colonel Lopez!" In its shocked surprise the voice was edged with
rebuke. "Man, man, where are your years of training near my person? One
would think you some boorish night-watchman."

Lopez outside the door dropped his hands, and fell abjectedly silent, as
servilely abashed in his lapse of etiquette as though he stood the
traitor unmasked.

"Now then, Miguel," spoke the Emperor more kindly, "go to General Mejia
and the others. Let them have the goodness to attend me here."

Lopez turned on down the corridor, stopped at the doors of Generals
Mejia and Castillo, and the Prince Salm-Salm. At each he tapped lightly,
as one dazed, and announced that the enemy surrounded them. Then,
remembering, he fled.

Within the thick walls that narrowed his state into a friar's cell,
Maximilian rose from his iron couch. "So," he sighed, almost in relief,
"Destiny means it to end in this way." He wa