In the carriage Maximilian was trembling with excitement.  One thought seemed to be uppermost in his mind.  “He will be free!  He will be free!” he continually cried.  When at last he grew more calm, he embraced me, and called me the preserver of himself; and all his family; and all his friends; and all his work,—­the savior of his father!  Then he became incoherent again.  He cursed the baseness of mankind.  “It was noble,” he said, “to crush a rotten world for revenge, or for justice’ sake; but to sell out a trust, for fifty millions of the first plunder, was execrable—­it was damnable.  It was a shame to have to use such instruments.  But the whole world was corrupt to the very core; there was not enough consistency in it to make it hang together.  Yet there was one consolation—­the end was coming!  Glory be to God!  The end was coming!”

And he clapped his hands and shouted, like a madman.

When he grew quieter I asked him what day the blow was to be struck.  Not for some time, he said.  In the morning the vice-president would take an air-ship to Europe, with a cipher letter from General Quincy to the commandant of the Demons in England—­to be delivered in case it was thought safe to do so.  The cripple was subtle and cunning beyond all men.  He was to arrange for the purchase of the officers commanding the Demons all over Europe; and he was to hold a council of the leaders of the Brotherhood, and arrange for a simultaneous outbreak on both sides of the Atlantic, so that one continent should not come to the help of the other.  If, however, this could not be effected, he was to return home, and the Brotherhood would precipitate the revolution all over America at the same hour, and take the chances of holding their own against the banker-government of Europe.

That night I lay awake a long time, cogitating; and the subject of my thoughts was—­Estella.

It had been my intention to return to Africa before the great outbreak took place.  I could not remain and witness the ruin of mankind.  But neither could I leave Estella behind me.  Maximilian might be killed.  I knew his bold and desperate nature; he seemed to me to have been driven almost, if not quite, to insanity, by the wrongs of his father.  Revenge had become a mania with him.  If he perished in the battle what would become of Estella, in a world torn to pieces?  She had neither father, nor mother, nor home.  But she loved me and I must protect her!

On the other hand, she was powerless and dependent on the kindness of strangers.  Her speech in that moment of terror might have expressed more than she felt.  Should I presume upon it?  Should I take advantage of her distress to impose my love upon her?  But, if the Brotherhood failed, might not the Prince recover her, and bear her back to his hateful palace and his loathsome embraces?  Dangers environed her in every direction.  I loved her; and if she would not accompany me to my home as my wife, she must go as my sister.  She could not stay where she was.  I must again save her.