Slowly the conspirators, at intervals of perhaps a minute each, filed from the room, and soon there was no one left save Chester, his executioner, and the chief.
"Remember," said the chief to the one remaining conspirator, as he prepared to take his departure, "remember that a failure to carry out the command of the court-martial means your own death."
"Have no fear," replied the executioner. "He shall not escape."
The chief nodded and left without another word.
A moment the executioner stood, looking after the chief's retreating figure. Then he drew a revolver from his pocket and approached Chester.
Chester's heart began to thump loudly, and, try as he would, he could not but tremble.
"This is the finish, all right," he told himself.
He closed his eyes and uttered a short prayer.
A hand fell on his shoulder and shook him, The lad opened his eyes. The executioner stood over him, revolver in hand.
"You are an enemy of my country," said the executioner, "and I should kill you. But I can't do it. You spared my life once, and it is impossible that I kill you now."