He threw up his hands. “It is the fortune of war.” Then he turned to the magistrate. “Now, sir are you satisfied?”
There was a pause and d’Olliveira said: “Yes, absolutely.”
And then I had the most amazing surprise of my life.
The magistrate waved his hand and a dozen or more men, police and prisoners mingled together, crowded into the room, and the eyes of every man present were directed on me.
Barosa stepped forward and offered me his hand.
“You must forgive us, Mr. Donnington,” he said.
“Forgive you. What the deuce for?”
“For having tested you in this drastic way. You will admit the evidence that you had betrayed us to the authorities was very strong—a letter in your name to your friend M. Volheno and his to you, thanking you for the information, was found in your rooms. I made the inquiries you suggested and satisfied myself of your absolute good faith. I would not believe you had broken your word, but my friends here insisted, and then this test was planned.”
“Do you mean——” I stopped in sheer astonishment as the truth dawned on me.
“I mean that this was all an elaborate pretence. There is no magistrate here and no police. We are all comrades in the one cause, and after what has passed no one of us will ever distrust you again. I say that for all of us.”