“‘My men must stay here, and you must leave the door open.’

“‘I have no objection,’ said the President.  ’No doubt they will respect my modesty.’

“’Two of you stay in this room.  Two of you keep watch in the veranda, one at this window, the other at the bedroom window.  I shall put three more sentries outside.  General Whittingham is not to leave this room.  If you hear or see anything going on in there, go in and put him under restraint.  Otherwise treat him with respect.’

“‘I thank you for your civility,’ said the President, ’also for the compliment implied in these precautions.  Is it over this matter of the debt that your patriotism has drawn you into revolt?’

“‘I see no use in discussing public affairs at this moment,’ the colonel replied.  ’And my presence is required elsewhere.  I regret that I cannot relieve you of the presence of these men, but I do not feel I should be justified in accepting your parole.’

“The President did not seem to be angered at this insult.

“‘I have not offered it,’ he said simply.  ’It is better you should take your own measures.  Need I detain you, colonel?’

“The colonel did not answer him, but turned to me and said: 

“‘Signorina Nugent, we wait only for you, and time is precious.’

“‘I will follow you in a moment,’ I said, with my head still among the cushions.

“‘No, come now,’ he commanded.

“Looking up, I saw a smile on the President’s face.  As I rose reluctantly, he also got up from the chair into which he had flung himself, and stopped me with a gesture.  I was terribly afraid that he was going to say something hard to me, but his voice only expressed a sort of amused pity.

“‘The money, was it, signorina?’ he said.  ’Young people and beautiful people should not be mercenary.  Poor child! you had better have stood by me.’

“I answered him nothing, but went out with the colonel, leaving him seated again in his chair, surveying with some apparent amusement the two threatening sentries who stood at the door.  The colonel hurried me out of the house, saying: 

“’We must ride to the barracks.  If the news gets there before us, they may cut up rough.  You go home.  Your work is done.’

“So they mounted and rode away, leaving me in the road.  There were no signs of any struggle, except the door hanging loose on its hinges, and a drop or two of blood on the steps where they had shot poor Johnny Carr.  I went straight home, and what happened in the next few hours at the Golden House I don’t know, and, knowing how I left the President, I cannot explain.  I went home, and cried till I thought my heart would break.”