and
that Senhor Bonaventura was a remarkable man.

Colhemos came over to the Foreign Office in the Praco de Commercio one
day and saw Dr. Sarabesta, and Sarabesta, who was both a republican and
a sinner, was also ambitious, or he had a Plan and an Ideal--two very
dangerous possessions for a politician, since they lead inevitably to
change, than which nothing is more fatal to political systems.

"Colhemos," said the doctor dramatically, "you are ruining me! You are
bringing me to the dust and covering me with the hatred and mistrust of
the Powers!"

He folded his arms and rose starkly from the chair, his beard all
a-bristle, his deep little eyes glaring.

"What is wrong, Baptisa?" asked Colhemos.

The other flung out his arms in an extravagant gesture.

"Ruin!" he cried somewhat inadequately.

He opened the leather portfolio which lay on the table and extracted six
sheets of foolscap paper.

"Read!" he said, and subsided into his padded armchair a picture of
gloom.

The sheets of foolscap were surmounted by crests showing an emaciated
lion and a small horse with a spiral horn in his forehead endeavouring
to climb a chafing-dish which had been placed on edge for the purpose,
and was suitably inscribed with another lion, two groups of leopards and
a harp.

Colhemos did not stop to admire the menagerie, but proceeded at once to
the literature. It was in French, and had to do with a certain condition
of affairs in Portuguese Central Africa which "constituted a grave and
increasing menace to the native subjects" of "Grande Bretagne." There
were hints, "which His Majesty's Government would be sorry to believe,
of raids and requisitions upon the native manhood" of this country which
differed little from slave raids.

Further, "Mr. Commissioner Sanders of the Territories regretted to
learn" that these labour requisitions resulted in a condition of affairs
not far removed from slavery.

Colhemos read through the dispatch from start to finish, and put it down
thoughtfully.

"Pinto has been overdoing it," he admitted. "I shall have to write to
him."

"What you write to Pinto may be interesting enough to print," said Dr.
Sarabesta violently, "but what shall I write to London? This
Commissioner Sanders is a fairly reliable man, and his Government will
act upon what he says."

Colhemos, who was really a great man (it was a distinct loss when he
faced a firing platoon in the revolutionary days of '12), tapped his