"It might be made most dangerous for him."
"In what way?"
"In the way I have already indicated to you, General."
"Do you mean in the way I forbade you to suggest, Sir?"
"Certainly."
"And this is the moment?"
"Now or never."
There was a silence, after which they resumed the morning's business. For an hour and a half both worked busily. Then Molara spoke. "I hate doing it; it's a dirty job."
"What is necessary, is necessary," said the Secretary sententiously. The President was about to make a reply when a clerk entered the room with a deciphered telegram. Miguel took it from him, read it, and passed it to his chief, saying grimly as he did so: "Perhaps this will decide you."
The President read the message, and as he read his face grew hard and cruel. It was from the Police Commissary at Turga, brief but terrible; the soldiers had deserted to the invaders, having first shot their officers.