"Recollect that Proclamation, Excellency," says Sadler. "You can't
describe me too villainous."

"I will remember," says the Mayor in a broken voice. "I will
remember."

"And you won't go under five hundred," says Sadler. "It'll be a
tribute to your private respect, just between you and me, as friends
that might never meet again."

"I will remember. My friend! Yet be firm," says the Mayor.

Sadler left the hall with a file of pink soldiers, who acted sly and
kept aside from him, as not knowing in what direction he might be
dangerous. He was put in charge of the chain gang, and introduced
them to sorrow and haste, and he spent his three days at the Hotel
Republic, taking things joyful at the bar at municipal expense. There
were soirees on the hotel piazza and terror in the chain gang.
By the rate the work went on in the Plaza, he was worth the expense.
The only point where he didn't appear scrupulous was going around to
bid people good-bye, which seemed simple-hearted and affecting in a
way, but it harrowed the Mayor's feelings. He said they were
harrowed. He got nervous. For if a man agrees to be a fugitive, and
to escape in a way described by himself as a shrinking and fading
away, it stands to reason he oughtn't to make too much fuss about it;
nor tell the British consul that the Mayor was going to assassinate
him, which was the reason for "these here adieus," to which the
British consul said, "Gammon!" Yet this seemed to be the idea current
in Ferdinand Street, and was why the Hottentot Society were peaceful
for the time being. But it made the Mayor nervous the way Portate was