“All right?” said the colonel.
“Yes, Excellency,” said one of them. “He is in there in bed.”
He went into the inner room and began to undo the shutters, letting in the early sun.
We passed through the half-opened door and saw a peaceful figure lying in the bed, whence proceeded a gentle snore.
“Good nerve, hasn’t he?” said the colonel.
“Yes; but what a queer night-cap!” I said, for the President’s head was swathed in white linen.
The colonel strode quickly up to the bed.
“Done, by hell!” he cried. “It’s Johnny Carr!”
It was true; there lay Johnny. His Excellency was nowhere to be seen.
The colonel shook Johnny roughly by the arm. The latter opened his eyes and said sleepily: