that Isaac had made up and changed his mind more
than once. Then at last he lowered his pistol.

"We'll call it chance," he muttered. "I never meant to write the
rubbish. Since you have got it, though, it is the truth. Do with it
what you will. There is one thing more. You know this man Sabatini?"

"If you mean the Count Sabatini, it was he who gave me your
address," Arnold reminded him.

Isaac smiled grimly.

"Citizen Sabatini is all we know him by here. He knows well that to
a man with his aspirations, a man who desires to use as his tools
such as myself and my comrades, a title is an evil recommendation.
He came to us first, as a man and a brother,--he, Count Sabatini,
Marquis de Lossa, Chevalier de St. Jerome, Knight of the Holy Roman
Empire,--an aristocrat, you perceive, and one of the worst. Yet we
have trusted him."

"I do not believe," Arnold exclaimed, "that Sabatini would betray
any one!"

"I am not accusing him," Isaac said solemnly. "I simply hold that
he is not the man to lead a great revolutionary movement. It is for
that reason, among others, that I have rejected his advances.
Sabatini as president would mean very much the same thing as a king.
Will you give him a message from me?"

"Yes," Arnold answered, "I will do that."

"Tell him, if indeed he has the courage which fame has bestowed upon
him, to come here and bid me farewell. I have certain things to say
to him."

"I will give him your message," Arnold promised, "but I shall not
advise him to come."

A look of anger flashed in Isaac's face. The pistol which had never
left his grip was slowly raised, only to be lowered again.

"Do as I say," he repeated. "Tell him to come. Perhaps I may have
more to say to him about that other matter than I choose to say to
you."

"About Ruth?"

"About Ruth," Isaac repeated, sternly.

"You would trust a stranger," Arnold exclaimed, "with information
which you deny me--her friend?"

Isaac waved him away.

"Be off," he said, tersely. "I have queer humors sometimes lying
here waiting for the end. Don't let it be your fate to excite one of
them. You have had your escape."

"What do you mean?" Arnold demanded.

Isaac laughed hoarsely.

"How many nights ago was it," he asked, "that you threw up a window
in the man Weatherley's house--the night Morris and I were there,
seeking for Rosario?"

"I never saw you!" Arnold exclaimed.

"No, but you saw Morris," Isaac continued. "What is more, you saw