"Gentlemen," began the outlaw chieftain, and his voice was as even and gentle as when first he spoke, "I have a few words of explanation to give you why I shot that carrion. It was because he was a traitor at heart—to me, if not to you. I saved him from the hangman's rope, and brought him here. He served admirably as a man; but raising him to be an officer spoiled him. You elected him; I could not refuse, though I knew that this day must come in time. Well, he's dead. There is no use in producing proof of his treachery, unless some of you demand it. Then I will comply, of course. Is any one dissatisfied? If so, let him advance and give in his plea."
No one advanced. Perhaps they deemed it scarcely prudent to do so, with that body still lying before them.
Yellow Jack smiled. He had conquered now, even as he had scores of times before, by sheer audacity. And now Lottie Mitchell was his; no one could dispute his choice, unless—He scowled as he thought of Mabel, his wife.
"Good! I am glad to see you so sensible. Of course, we must have another election. To-morrow will do. Talk the matter over between yourselves. The choice lies with you." And then Yellow Jack walked away, without so much as a glance at his victim.
Meantime, Lottie Mitchell had been aroused from her torpidity—as it might almost be called. And this by one of whom we have had only a fleeting glimpse—the being called by Yellow Jack, "Crazy Joe."
He had glided into the little cell-like apartment adjoining "the grotto," where Lottie was sitting in apathetic despair. She glanced up at his entrance, but recognizing him, again drooped her eyes.
"Lady," whispered Crazy Joe, after a keen glance around the chamber, "cheer up. You have a friend near who will do his best to free you. Be cautious—do not cry out. If they suspect who and what I really am, both you and I are lost," he added hastily as Lottie gave vent to an exclamation of surprise.
This was the first time she had heard him utter an intelligible sentence. To her, as to others, he had been the harmless idiot. For what had he been playing such a part?—for now there was no trace of idiocy, only the sharp, acute decision of a bold and determined man.
"I don't wonder at your surprise," he added, with a kindly smile, as he drew nearer, "I have played my part well, and, indeed, I had need to, since my life depended upon its success. But never mind that now. I fear interruption before I can explain. Listen, now. I am telling you the truth, and placing my life in your hands.
"As you see, I am no idiot. That is my mask, put on the better to enable me to gain my purpose. Instead, I am a spy—a spy of the Government. My purpose now is to learn all the secrets of the place, so that, when the time comes for another attack, they can't baffle us as they did the last time.