It hadn’t struck me in that light, but it was quite irrelevant.

“But for your scheme I should have come back without a blow,” he continued; “but then I should have shot McGregor just the same.”

“Because he led the revolt?”

“Because,” said the President, “he has been a traitor from the beginning even to the end—­because he tried to rob me of all I held dear in the world.  If you like,” he added, with a shrug, “because he stood between me and my will.  So I went up to him and told him his hour was come, and I shot him through the head.  He died like a man, Martin; I will say that.”

I could not pretend to regret the dead man.  Indeed, I had been near doing the same deed myself.  But I shrank before this calm ruthlessness.

Another long pause followed.  Then the President said: 

“I am sorry for all this, Martin—­sorry you and I came to blows.”

“You played me false about the money,” I said bitterly.

“Yes, yes,” he answered gently; “I don’t blame you.  You were bound to me by no ties.  Of course you saw my plan?”

“I supposed your Excellency meant to keep the money and throw me over.”

“Not altogether,” he said.  “Of course I was bound to have the money.  But it was the other thing, you know.  As far as the money went I would have taken care you came to no harm.”

“What was it, then?”

“I thought you understood all along,” he said, with some surprise.  “I saw you were my rival with Christina, and my game was to drive you out of the country by making the place too hot for you.”

“She told me you didn’t suspect about me and her till quite the end.”

“Did she?” he answered, with a smile.  “I must be getting clever to deceive two such wide-awake, young people.  Of course I saw it all along.  But you had more grit than I thought.  I’ve never been so nearly done by any man as by you.”

“But for luck you would have been,” said I.

“Yes, but I count luck as one of my resources,” he replied.

“Well, what are you going to do now?”

He took no notice, but went on.

“You played too high.  It was all or nothing with you, just as it is with me.  But for that we could have stood together.  I’m sorry, Martin; I like you, you know.”

For the life of me I had never been able to help liking him.

“But likings mustn’t interfere with duty,” he went on, smiling.  “What claim have you at my hands?”

“Decent burial, I suppose,” I answered.

He got up and paced the room for a moment or two.  I waited with some anxiety, for life is worth something to a young man, even when things look blackest, and I never was a hero.

“I make you this offer,” he said at last.  “Your boat lies there, ready.  Get into her and go, otherwise—­”

“I see,” said I.  “And you will marry her?”

“Yes,” he said.