“As I turned again, I saw the President standing quite calmly in the window. When the colonel saw him he raised his revolver and said:
“‘Do you yield, General Whittingham? We are twelve to one.’
“As he spoke, every man covered the President with his aim. The latter stood facing the twelve revolvers, his own weapon hanging loosely in his left hand. Then, smiling, he said a little bitterly:
“‘Heroics are not in my line, McGregor. I suppose this is a popular rising—that is to say, you have bribed my men, murdered my best friend, and beguiled me with the lures of that—’
“I could not bear the words that hung on his lips, and with a sob I fell on a sofa and hid my face.
“‘Well, we mustn’t use hard names,’ he went on, in a gentler tone. ‘We are all as God made us. I give in,’ and, throwing down his weapon, he asked, ‘Have you quite killed Carr?’
“‘I don’t know,’ said the colonel, implying plainly that he did not care either.
“‘I suppose it was you that shot him?’
“The colonel nodded.
“The President yawned, and looked at his watch.