"Useless," repeated the new-comer, in a voice rising above all the others, "for you are wasting precious time. I know all your secrets, and these childish proofs are unworthy the head of sensible beings. That man was not murdered; the stuff I drank was wine hid in a pouch on his chest; the bullet and powder I loaded the trick-pistol with fell into a hollow in the stock when the weapon was cocked. Take back the sham arm, only good to frighten cowards. Rise, you lying corpse; you cannot frighten the
strong-minded."
A terrible roar shook the hall.
"To know our mysteries, you must be an initiate or a spy," said the president.
"Who are you?" demanded three hundred voices together, as a score of swords shone in the grip of the nearest and were lowered by the regular movement of trained soldiers toward the intruder's bosom.
Calm and smiling, he lifted his head, wound round with the sacred fillet, and replied:
"I am the Man for the Time."
Before his lordly gaze the blades lowered unevenly as they on whom it fell obeyed promptly or tried to resist the influence.
"You have made a rash speech," said the president, "but it may have been spoken without your knowing its gravity."