“What are you going to do with him?”
“I should like to shoot him,” said the colonel.
“On what charge?”
“Treachery,” he replied.
I smiled.
“That would hardly do, would it?”
“Well, then, embezzlement of public funds.”
We had a little talk about the President’s destiny, and I tried to persuade the colonel to milder measures. In fact, I was determined to prevent such a murder if I could without ruin to myself.
“Well, we’ll consider it when we’ve seen him,” said the colonel, rising and lighting a cigarette. “By Jove! we’ve wasted an hour breakfasting—it’s seven o’clock.”
I followed him along the passage, and we entered the little room where we had left the President. The sentries were still there, each seated in an armchair. They were not asleep, but looked a little drowsy.