invite you to dine with his Excellency on Friday evening, at eight
precisely."

"You mean," she said slowly, "that I am to keep him at home, and, but
for myself, alone, on Friday?"

"Yes," said I. "Is there any difficulty?"

"I do not think there is great difficulty," she said, "but I don't
like it; it looks so treacherous."

Of course it did. I didn't like her doing it myself, but how else was
the President to be secured?

"Rather late to think of that, isn't it?" asked McGregor, with a
sneer. "A revolution won't run on high moral wheels."

"Think how he jockeyed you about the money," said I, assuming the part
of the tempter.

"By the way," said McGregor, "it's understood the signorina enters
into possession of the President's country villa, isn't it?"

Now, my poor signorina had a longing for that choice little retreat;
and between resentment for her lost money and a desire for the
pretty house on the one hand, and, on the other, her dislike of
the Delilah-like part she was to play, she was sore beset. Left to
herself, I believe she would have yielded to her better feelings,
and spoiled the plot. As it was, the colonel and I, alarmed at this
recrudescence of conscience, managed to stifle its promptings, and