"But what's to be done? If I'm here to-morrow, he'll take the money,
and, as likely as not, cut my throat if I try to stop him."
"Yes, and he'll marry me," chimed in the signorina. "Jack, we must
have a counter-revolution."
"I don't see what good that'll do," I answered dolefully. "The
President will take the money just the same, and I expect he'll marry
you just the same."
"Of the two, I would rather have him. Now don't rage, Jack! I only
said, 'of the two.' But you're quite right; it couldn't help us much
to bring General Whittingham back."
"To say nothing of the strong probability of my perishing in the
attempt."
"Let me think," said the signorina, knitting her brows.
"May I light a cigarette and help you?"
She nodded permission, and I awaited the result of her meditation.
She sat there, looking very thoughtful and troubled, but it seemed
to me as if she were rather undergoing a conflict of feeling than
thinking out a course of action. Once she glanced at me, then turned
away with a restless movement and a sigh.
I finished my cigarette, and flinging it away, strolled up to the
window to look out.
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