ioned, anxiously.

"I've done all I can. The rest is out of our hands." The little man sat
down heavily and mopped his forehead.

"What does he say?"

"He told me to come here and wait. I never saw a man so torn, so
distracted."

"Then he is wavering. Oh-h!" Alaire clasped her hands in thanksgiving,
but the Father cautioned her:

"Don't be too sanguine. He is not afraid of consequences. He appears to
have no conscience. He is without mercy and seems lost to shame. I have
never met a man quite like him. Do you know what he feels at this
moment? Chagrin. Yes, mortification raised to the highest pitch, and a
sort of stupefaction that you should prefer another man to him. He
can't understand your lack of taste." Father O'Malley smiled faintly.

"Conceited idiot," Dave growled.

"His humiliation kills him. When I saw that it was useless to appeal to
him on moral grounds, and that threats were unavailing, I took another
course. Something gave me insight into his mind, and the power to talk
as I have never talked before. All in a flash I saw the man's soul laid
bare before me, and--I think I played upon it with some cunning. I
don't remember all I said, for I was inspired, but I appealed to his
vanity and to his conceit, and as I went along I impressed upon him,
over and over, the fact that the world knows we are here and that it
trusts him. He aspires to the Presidency; he believes he is destined to
be Mexico's Dictator; so I painted a picture that surpassed his own
imaginings. He would have been suspicious of mere flattery, so I went
far beyond that and inflamed him with such extravagant visions as only
a child or an unblushing egotist like him could accept. I swelled his
vanity; I inflated his conceit. For a moment, at least, I lifted him
out of himself and raised him to the heights."

From beyond the closed door came Longorio's voice, issuing some command
to his men. A moment passed; then he appeared before the three
Americans. He seemed taller, thinner, more erect and hawklike than
ever. His head was held more proudly and his chest was fuller. A set,
disdainful smile was graven upon his face.

He began by addressing his words directly to Alaire. "Senora," he said,
"I am a man of deep feeling and I scorn deceit. Therefore I offer no
apology for my recent display of emotion. If I have seemed to press my
advances with undue fervor, it is because, at heart, I am as great a
lover as I am a statesman or a soldier. Bu