"Mr. Aiken," he said. "Only four people knew that those guns were
ordered--Quay, who went to fetch them, General Laguerre, myself, and
you. Some one of us must have sold out the others; no one else could
have done it. It was not Quay. The General and I have been here in the
mountains--we did not do it; and that--that leaves you."

"It does not leave me," Aiken cried. He shouted it out with such
spirit that I wondered at him. It was the same sort of spirit which
makes a rat fight because he can't get away, but I didn't think so
then.

"It was Quay sold you out!" Aiken cried. "Quay told the Isthmian
people as soon as the guns reached New Orleans. I suspected him when
he cabled me he wasn't coming back. I know him. I know just what he
is. He's been on both sides before."

"Silence, you--you," Reeder interrupted. He was white with anger. "Mr.
Quay is my friend," he cried. "I trust him. I trust him as I would
trust my own brother. How dare you accuse him!"

He ceased and stood gasping with indignation, but his show of anger
encouraged Captain Heinze to make a fresh attack on Aiken.

"Quay took you off the beach," he shouted.

"He gave you food and clothes, and a bed to lie on. It's like you, to
bite the hand that fed you. When have you ever stuck to any side or
anybody if you could get a dollar more by selling him out?"

The whole thing had become intolerable. It was abject and degrading,