funeral or a marriage.”
“Or an abdication, you might add. I drink to a successful reign, Senor Dictator: Le roi est mort; vive le roi!”
The Irishman filled a second glass. “And I drink to Governor Megales, a brave man. May the cards fall better for him next time he plays.”
The governor bowed ironically. “A brave man certainly, and you might add: 'Who loses his stake without striking one honest blow for it.'”
“We play with stacked cards, excellency. Who can forestall the treachery of trusted associates?”
“Sir, your apology for me is very generous, no less so than the terms you offer,” returned Megales sardonically.
O'Halloran laughed. “Well, if you don't like my explanations I shall have to let you make your own. And, by the way, may I venture on a delicate personal matter, your excellency?”
“I can deny you nothing to-night, senor,” answered Megales, mocking at himself.
“Young Valdez is in love with your daughter. I am sure that she is fond of him, but she is very loyal to you and flouts the lad. I was thinking, sir, that—”
The Spaniard's eye flashed, but his answer came suavely as he interrupted: “Don't you think you had better leave Senor Valdez and me to arrange our own family affairs? We could not think of troubling you to attend to them.”
“He is a good lad and a brave.”
Megales bowed. “Your recommendation goes a long way with me, senor, and, in truth, I have known him only a small matter of twenty years longer than you.”
“Never a more loyal youngster in the land.”
“You think so? A matter of definitions, one may suppose. Loyal to the authorized government of his country, or to the rebels who would illegally overthrow it?”
“Egad, you have me there, excellency. 'Tis a question of point of view, I'm thinking. But you'll never tell me the lad pretended one thing and did another. I'll never believe you like that milksop Chaves better.”
“Must I choose either a fool or a knave?”
“I doubt it will be no choice of yours. Juan Valdez is an ill man to deny what he sets his heart on. If the lady is willing—”
“I shall give her to the knave and wash my hands of her. Since treason thrives she may at last come back to the palace as its mistress. Quien sabe?”
“Less likely things have happened. What news, Rodrigo?” This last to the messenger, who at that moment appeared at the door.
“Colonel Onate attends, senor.”
“Show him in.”
Onate was plainly puzzled at the summons to attend the governor, and mixed with his perplexity was a very evident anxiety. He glanced quickly at O'Halloran as he entered, as if asking for guidance, and then as questioningly at Megales. Had the Irishman played Judas and betrayed them all? Or was the coup already played with success?
“Colonel Onate, I have sent for you at the request of Governor Megales to set his mind at rest on a disturbing point. His health is failing and he considers the advisability of retiring from the active cares of state. I have assured him that you, among others, would, under such circumstances, be in a friendly relation to the next administration. Am I correct in so assuring him?”
Megales pierced him with his beady eyes. “In other words, Colonel Onate, are you one of the traitors involved in this rebellion?”
“I prefer the word patriot, senor,” returned Onate, flushing.
“Indeed I have no doubt you do. I am answered,” he exclaimed scornfully. “And what is the price of patriotism these days, colonel?”
“Sir!” The colonel laid his hand on his sword.
“I was merely curious to know what position you would hold under the new administration.”
O'Halloran choked a laugh, for by chance the governor had hit the nail on the head. Onate was to be Secretary of State under Valdez, and this was the bait that had been dangled temptingly under his nose to induce a desertion of Megales.
“If you mean to reflect upon my honor I can assure you that my conscience is clear,” answered Onate blackly.
“Indeed, colonel, I do not doubt it. I have always admired your conscience and its adaptability.” The governor turned to O'Halloran. “I am satisfied, Senior Dictator. If you will permit me—”
He walked to his desk, unlocked a drawer, and drew forth a parchment, which he tossed across to the Irishman. “It is my commission as governor. Allow me to place it in your hands and put myself at the service of the new administration.”
“If you will kindly write notes, I will send a messenger to General Carlo and another to Colonel Gabilonda requesting their attendance. I think affairs may be quickly arranged.”
“You are irresistible, senor. I hasten to obey.”
Megales sat down and wrote two notes, which he turned over to O'Halloran. The latter read them, saw them officially sealed, and dispatched them to their destinations.
When Gabilonda was announced, General Carlo followed almost at his heels. The latter glanced in surprise at O'Halloran.
“Where did you catch him, excellency?” he asked.
“I did not catch him. He has caught me, and, incidentally, you, general,” answered the sardonic Megales.
“In short, general,” laughed the big Irishman, “the game is up.”
“But the army—You haven't surrendered without a fight?”
“That is precisely what I have done. Cast your eye over that paper, general, and then tell me of what use the army would be to us. Half the officers are with the enemy, among them the patriotic Colonel Onate, whom you see present. A resistance would be futile, and would only result in useless bloodshed.”
“I don't believe it,” returned Carlo bluntly.
“Seeing is believing, general,” returned O'Halloran, and he gave a little nod to Onate.
The colonel left the room, and two or three minutes later a bell began to toll.
“What does that mean?” asked Carlo.
“The call to arms, general. It means that the old regime is at an end in Chihuahua. VIVA VALDEZ.”
“Not without a struggle,” cried the general, rushing out of the room.
O'Halloran laughed. “I'm afraid he will not be able to give the countersign to Garcia. In the meantime, excellency, pending his return, I would suggest that you notify Colonel Gabilonda to turn over the prison to us without resistance.”
“You hear your new dictator, colonel,” said Megales.
“Pardon me, your
