could, back to the
theatre again, hoping to meet a carriage for hire on the way. Arriving
at the theatre, he found the lights out, and the manager on the point
of leaving.

"Lemoine has been arrested," he cried; "arrested by a squad of soldiers
whom we met, and they said they acted by order of the President."

The manager seemed thunderstruck by the intelligence, and gazed
helplessly at Dupre.

"What is the charge?" he said at last.

"That I do not know," answered the actor. "They simply said they were
acting under the President's orders."

"This is bad; as bad as can be," said the manager, looking over his
shoulder, and speaking as if in fear. "Lemoine has been talking
recklessly. I never could get him to realise that he was in Chili, and
that he must not be so free in his speech. He always insisted that this
was the nineteenth century, and a man could say what he liked; as if
the nineteenth century had anything to do with a South American
Republic."

"You don't imagine," said Dupre, with a touch of pallor coming into his
cheeks, "that this is anything serious. It will mean nothing more than
a day or two in prison at the worst?"

The manager shook his head and said--

"We had better get a carriage and see the President as soon as
possible. I'll undertake to send Lemoine back to Paris, or to put him
on board one of the French ironclads. But there is no time to be lost.
We can probably get a carriage in the square."

They found a carriage and drove as quickly as they could to the
residence of the President. At first they were refused admittance, but
finally they were allowed to wait in a small room while their message
was taken to Balmeceda. An hour passed, but still no invitation came to
them from the President. The manager sat silent in a corner, while
Dupre paced up and down the small room, torn with anxiety about his
friend. At last an officer entered, and presented them with the
compliments of the President, who regretted that it was impossible for
him to see them that night. The officer added, for their information,
by order of the President, that Lemoine was to be shot at daybreak. He
had been tried by court-martial and condemned to death for sedition.
The President regretted having kept them waiting so long, but the
court-martial had been sitting when they arrived, and the President
thought that perhaps they would be interested in knowing the verdict.
With that the officer escorted the two dumb-founde