The Camera Chap shrugged his shoulders.
“Perhaps you are in hopes that this summons may mean that, in spite of the seriousness of your offense, you are to receive mercy?”
“Mercy!” Hawley exclaimed, with an ironical laugh. “No, I scarcely expect that, sir—after the scene I witnessed in the prison yard this morning. I hardly think you know what mercy means.”
Minister Throgmorton’s scowl deepened, but the president’s face did not lose its smile as he turned to the stenographer at the table, who had already started to make a record of the conversation. “I don’t think you need put that down, Garcia,” he said good-humoredly. “I feel confident that Señor Hawley will wish to withdraw that remark later on.”
He addressed himself once more to the man before him. “I presume, señor, you refer to the execution of the traitor Bonsal. That was indeed a sad affair, and I regret that you should have been compelled to behold it. I think, however, that you are unjust in calling it an outrage. The unhappy man met only his just deserts. He was found guilty, after a fair trial, of conspiring against the government of his adopted country. His fate was the fate which all traitors must expect.” His small eyes twinkled. “Perhaps, however, you will change your mind about my ignorance of the meaning of the word mercy,” he said dryly, “when I tell you that, in spite of the seriousness of your own offense, I have decided to let you go free.”
The Camera Chap gave a start of surprise.
“The worthy representative of your country here,” Portiforo continued, with a bow in the direction of the envoy, “has been kind enough to exert his personal influence in your behalf. While he fully agrees with me that officially he has absolutely no rights in the matter—that the nature of your crime puts you outside the protection of your government and permits us to do with you as we see fit, my esteem for Señor Throgmorton is so great that I have decided to grant his request to set you free, since he has asked it of me as a personal favor to him.”
The prisoner, scarcely able to believe that what he heard was true, turned with a grateful smile to the American diplomat. “This is very good of you, sir,” he began.
Minister Throgmorton silenced him with a curt gesture. “You can spare me your thanks,” he said, his face still maintaining its frozen expression. “I want you to understand clearly that my intercession is not prompted by any sympathy for you. On the contrary, I feel that whatever sentence the court might see fit to pass upon you would be no more than you richly deserve. I consider you, sir, a disgrace to your country and to the honorable profession which has the misfortune to number you among its members. My action in procuring your pardon is due entirely to—er—to other reasons.”
The president smiled appreciatively, and his glance, wandering over to the table, noted that the official stenographer was taking down every word of this caustic speech.