wn overawed or
converted, and, behold, the Revolution was accomplished! The success
of this design entirely depended on its existence remaining a dead
secret from the one man we feared, and on that one man being found
alone and unguarded at twelve o'clock on Friday night. If he
discovered the plot, we were lost. If he took it into his head to
attend the supper, our difficulties would be greatly increased. At
this point we turned to the signorina, and I said briefly:

"This appears to be where you come in, signorina. Permit me to
invite you to dine with his Excellency on Friday evening, at eight
precisely."

"You mean," she said slowly, "that I am to keep him at home, and, but
for myself, alone, on Friday?"

"Yes," said I. "Is there any difficulty?"

"I do not think there is great difficulty," she said, "but I don't
like it; it looks so treacherous."

Of course it did. I didn't like her doing it myself, but how else was
the President to be secured?

"Rather late to think of that, isn't it?" asked McGregor, with a
sneer. "A revolution won't run on high moral wheels."

"Think how he jockeyed you about the money," said I, assuming the part
of the tempter.

"By the way," said McGregor, "it's understood the signorina enters
into possession of the President's country villa, isn't it?"

Now, my poor signorina had a longing for that choice little retreat;
and between resentment for her lost money and a desire for the
pretty house on the one hand, and, on the other, her dislike of
the Delilah-like part she was to play, she was sore beset. Left to
herself, I believe she would have yielded to her better feelings,
and spoiled the plot. As it was, the colonel and I, alarmed at this
recrudescence of conscience, managed to stifle its promptings, and
bent her to our wicked will.

"After all, he deserves it," she said, "and I'll do it!"

It is always sad to see anybody suffering from a loss of self-respect,
so I tried to restore the signorina's confidence in her own motives,
by references to Jael the wife of Heber the Kenite, Charlotte Corday,
and such other relentless heroines as occurred to me. McGregor looked
upon this striving after self-justification with undisguised contempt.

"It's only making a fool of him again," he said; "you've done it
before, you know!"

"I'll do it, if you'll swear not to--to hurt him," she said.

"I've promised already," he replied sullenly. "I won't touch him,
unless he brings it on hims