"Look. Here is the true-key which this gentleman tried so hard to find."
And taking his pencil the Senator wrote under the strange words the true meaning:
"My willing soul would stay
In such a frame as this,
And sit and sing herself away
To everlasting bliss."
The Interpreter saw it all. He looked profoundly foolish. The whole thing was clear. The Senator's innocence was plain. He turned to explain to the Commandant. The Consul's face exhibited a variety of expressions, over which a broad grimace finally predominated, like sunshine over an April sky. In a few words the whole was made plain to the Commandant. He looked annoyed, glared angrily at the Interpreter, tossed the papers on the floor, and rose to his feet.
[Illustration: Watts Mis-spelled.]
"Give these gentlemen our apologies," said he to the Interpreter. "In times of trouble, when States have to be held subject to martial law, proceedings are abrupt. Their own good sense will, I trust, enable them to appreciate the difficulty of our position. They are at liberty."