king one of the bottles of champagne; "and
look here . . . here's a tin of biscuits. You'll need all your
strength. . . ."

After the shocks of the frightful nightmare in which he had been
living for thirty-six hours, Simon was hardly capable of surprise.
That Antonio should have succeeded in slipping among the gang of
criminals accorded, after all, with the logic of events, since the
Indian's object was just to be revenged on Rolleston.

"Did you fire at me with a blank cartridge?" asked Simon, "and saved
my life?"

"Yes," replied the Indian. "I got here yesterday, when Rolleston was
already beginning to drive back the mob of three or four thousand
ruffians crowding round the fountains. As he was recruiting all who
possessed fire-arms and as I had a rifle, I was enlisted. Since then,
I've been prowling right and left, in the trenches which they've dug,
in the wrecks, more or less everywhere. I happened to be near his
platform when they brought him the papers found on the airman; and I
learnt, as he did, that the airman was no other than yourself. Then I
watched my opportunity and offered myself as an executioner when it
came to a matter of killing you. But I didn't dare warn you in his
presence."

"He's with Miss Bakefield, isn't he?" asked Simon anxiously.

"Yes."

"Were you able to communicate with her?"

"No, but I know where she is."

"Let's hurry," said Simon.

Antonio held him back:

"One word. What has become of Dolores?"

He looked Simon straight in the eyes.

"Dolores left me," Simon replied.

"Why?" asked Antonio, in a harsh voice. "Yes, why? A woman alone, in
this country: it's certain death! And you deserted her?"

Simon did not lower his eyes. He replied:

"I did my duty by Dolores . . . more than my duty. It was she who left
me."

Antonio reflected. Then he said:

"Very good. I understand."

They moved away, unobserved by the rabble of henchmen and
executioners. The boat--a Channel packet whose name Simon read on a
faded pennant: the _Ville de Dunkerque_; and he remembered that the
_Ville de Dunkerque_ had been sunk at the beginning of the
upheaval--the boat had not suffered much damage and her hull was
barely heeling over to starboard. The deck was empty between the
funnels and the poop. They were passing the hatch of a companion-way
when Antonio said:

"That's Rolleston's lair."

"If so, let's go down," said Simon, who was quivering with
impatience.

"Not yet; there are f