The interruption served to end O'Reilly's ordeal, for the moment at least, and attention was now turned to his companion. It was evident from the first that Branch's case was hopeless. He readily acknowledged himself to be a newspaper writer, and admitted having sent articles for publication through the mails. This was quite enough; from the attitude of the military men it promised to go hard with him. But he sprung a surprise by boldly proclaiming himself an English citizen and warning his captors not to treat him with the contempt or with the severity they reserved for Americans. Curiously his words had an effect. Judgment for the moment was suspended, and the two prisoners were led away, after which another delay ensued.
At last O'Reilly was recalled; but when he re-entered the big room he found General Antuna awaiting him, alone.
"Permit me to apologize for the inconvenience we have put you to," the comandante began.
"Then am I free?"
"You are."
"I thank you."
The general's hard eyes gleamed. "Personally I at no time put faith in the idea that you are a powder expert," said he. "No. I had my own suspicions and I regret to say this inquiry has not in the least served to lessen them."
"Indeed? May I ask of what you suspect me?" Johnnie was genuinely interested.
The general spoke with force and gravity: "Mr. O'Reilly, I believe you to be a far greater menace to the interests of my country than—well, than a score of dynamite experts. I believe you are a writer."
The American smiled. "Are writers such dangerous people?"