"I looked inquiringly at the ex-President.
"'Excuse me,' he said. 'I have left my handkerchief upstairs, and I will go and fetch it.'
"He rose and vanished, and I turned to the Minister for War.
"'Your Excellency will excuse me,' he said. 'This is a matter which requires my immediate attention.'
"And he also rose and disappeared in the direction of the back door.
"So I sat alone in the great dining-hall and awaited the intruders as calmly as the Roman senators in olden times awaited the invasion of the Gauls. My arms were folded and I hugged my cheque-book to my bosom.
"The noise came nearer, there were heavy footsteps in the hall, the door burst open, and the strangers entered.
"Imagine my consternation! They were Americans—serge-shirted, corduroy-breeched desperadoes from California, and their leader was no other than my old friend, Colorado Charlie, he to whom I had confided the secret of my plans when I made his acquaintance in the train. They advanced, firing their guns as they came, picking off the glass pendants of the chandeliers, as though to keep their hands in or test their accuracy of aim. Colorado Charlie, however, signalled to them to stop, and stepped up and spoke to me, saying simply—
"'Game's up, sonnie. You've got to git.'
"I still sat on my carved mahogany chair, like the Roman senator in the story, waiting for the Gaul to pluck his beard. Colorado Charlie continued—