I therefore related my adventures, but said nothing about the ring.
“I have always suspected Paola,” he told me, “and often warned Dom Miguel against him. The man’s very nature is frivolous. He could not be expected to keep faith. Yet it is surprising he did not choose to betray the Emperor, rather than us; for the Revolution is too powerful and too far advanced to be quelled by the arrest of a few of its leaders.”
“But what of Fonseca?” I asked curiously. “Why was he not arrested also? Why was not his name mentioned to the Emperor?”
“I confess the fact puzzles me,” returned Piexoto, thoughtfully. “Fonseca is even more compromised than I am myself, and unless he had a secret understanding with Paola, and purchased immunity, I cannot account for his escaping arrest.”
“But the general will not forsake the cause, I am sure,” I said, earnestly. “And it seems that Senhor Bastro, also, has succeeded in eluding arrest. Therefore, should the royalists fail to find the key to the vault, all may yet be well, in spite of Paola’s treachery.”
“There is another perplexing matter,” returned Piexoto, pacing the room in deep thought. “Miguel de Pintra never told me the vault was sheathed with nitro-glycerine. Did you know it?”
“Yes,” I answered. “But the secret was revealed to me by Lesba Paola, the Minister’s sister.”
“I can scarcely believe it, nevertheless,” he resumed. “Yet what object could the traitor have in preventing their reaching the records, unless he knew the attempt to drill through the walls would destroy us all—himself included?”
“Perhaps he has fear that the records would incriminate him with the Emperor,” I suggested.
“Bah! He has made his terms, evidently. That he worked faithfully in our interests for a time is quite believable; but either the Emperor’s bribes were too tempting or he lost faith in the Cause.”