“Damn the ruffian!” I growled; not meaning the President, but his successor; “I’ll shoot him!”

“No, no, Jack!” she cried.  “You must be quiet and cautious.  But I must go to-night—­to-night, Jack, either with you or to the President.”

“My darling, you shall come with me,” said I.

“Where?”

“Oh, out of this somewhere.”

“How are we to escape?”

“Now, you sit down, dear, and try to stop crying—­you break my heart—­and I’ll think.  It’s my turn now.”

I carried her to the sofa, and she lay still, but with her eyes fixed on me.  I was full of rage against McGregor, but I couldn’t afford the luxury of indulging it, so I gave my whole mind to finding a way out for us.  At last I seemed to hit upon a plan.

The signorina saw the inspiration in my eye.  She jumped up and came to me.

“Have you got it, Jack?” she said.

“I think so—­if you will trust yourself to me, and don’t mind an uncomfortable night.”

“Go on.”

“You know my little steam launch?  It will be dark to-night.  If we can get on board with a couple of hours’ start we can show anybody a clean pair of heels.  She travels a good pace, and it’s only fifty miles to safety and foreign soil.  I shall land there a beggar!”

“I don’t mind that, Jack,” she said.  “I have my five thousand, and aunt will join us with the rest.  But how are we to get on board?  Besides, O Jack! the President watches the coast every night with The Songstress—­and you know she’s got steam—­Mr. Carr just had auxiliary steam put in.”

“No,” I said, “I didn’t know about that.  Look here, Christina; excuse the question, but can you communicate with the President?”

“Yes,” she said, after a second’s hesitation.

This was what I suspected.

“And will he believe what you tell him?”

“I don’t know.  He might and he might not.  He’ll probably act as if he didn’t.”

I appreciated the justice of this forecast of General Whittingham’s measures.

“Well, we must chance it,” I said.  “At any rate, better be caught by him than stay here.  We were, perhaps, a little hasty with that revolution of ours.”

“I never thought the colonel was so wicked,” said the signorina.

We had no time to waste in abusing our enemy; the question was how to outwit him.  I unfolded my plan to the signorina, not at all disguising from her the difficulties, and even dangers, attendant upon it.  Whatever may have been her mind before and after, she was at this moment either so overcome with her fear of the colonel, or so carried away by her feeling for me, that she made nothing of difficulties and laughed at dangers, pointing out that though failure would be ignominious, it could not substantially aggravate our present position.  Whereas, if we succeeded—­

The thought of success raised a prospect of bliss in which we reveled for a few minutes; then, warned by the stroke of twelve, we returned to business.