“Wait here for me,” said Maximilian, as he passed me.

I sat down.  The cowled figures remained seated around the walls.  Not a sound broke the profound silence.  I could see that all eyes were fixed upon the door by which the Executive Committee had left us, and my own were riveted there also.

We all felt the gravity of the occasion.  Five minutes—­ten minutes—­fifteen minutes—­twenty minutes passed.  The door opened.  We thought the conference was over.  No; it was only the cripple; his face was uncovered and flushed with excitement.  He walked quickly to the secretary’s table; took up pen, ink and paper, and returned to the other cellar, closing the door after him.  There was a movement among the cowled figures—­whispers—­excitement; they augured that things were going well—­the agreement was to be reduced to writing!  Five minutes more passed—­then ten—­then fifteen.  The door opened, and they came out:—­the gigantic Caesar ahead.  All the faces were uncovered, and I thought there was a look of suppressed triumph upon the countenances of the Executive Committee.  The commander of the Demons looked sedate and thoughtful, like a man who had taken a very grave and serious step.

The president resumed the chair.  He spoke to the secretary.

“You will cover the eyes of General Quincy,” he said.  “Take two men with you; accompany him to his carriage, then go with him to his residence, and bring back our hostage.—­General,” he said, “good night,” and then added meaningly, “Au revoir!”

“Au revoir,” said the general, as the handkerchief was adjusted over his face.

The commander of the Demons and his escort withdrew.  The president sat consulting his watch, and when he was sure that they were beyond hearing, he sprang to his feet, his eyes glowing and his whole frame dilated with excitement.

“Brothers,” he cried out, “we have got the world in our hands at last.  The day is near we have so long toiled and waited for!  The Demons are with us!”

The wildest demonstrations of joy followed—­cheer after cheer broke forth; the men embraced each other.

“The world’s slavery is at an end,” cried one.

“Death to the tyrants!” shouted another.

“Down with the Oligarchy!” roared a third.

“Come,” said Maximilian, taking me by the arm, “it is time to go.”

He replaced the bandage over my eyes and led me out.  For some time after I left the room, and while in the next cellar, I could hear the hoarse shouts of the triumphant conspirators.  Victory was now assured.  My heart sank within me.  The monstrous chorus was chanting the requiem of a world.