With a bound I stood within the grim vault and searched its confines with anxious eyes. True enough, the place was empty. Not a scrap of paper, a book, or a bank-note had been left there. The shelves that lined the walls were as bare as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.

The records of the Revolution were gone. The body of Miguel de Pintra was gone. Thank God, the great and glorious Cause was as yet safe!

Valcour was on his hands and knees, prying into the corners for some scrap that might have been overlooked.

Paola stood beside me with the old aggravating simper upon his face, twirling one end of his moustache.

Suddenly Valcour stood up and faced him.

“Traitor!” he cried, with a passionate 193gesture, “it is you who have done this! It is you who have led us here only to humiliate us and laugh at us!”

“Your Majesty,” said Paola, without moving his head, “will you kindly protect me from the insults of your servants?”

“Have peace, Valcour!” growled the Emperor. “Senhor Francisco has proved his loyalty, and doubtless shares our chagrin. Come, gentlemen, let us leave this dismal place.”

I followed slowly in the train of the party as it wound its way through the narrow passage and up the iron stairs into the library. My hand-cuffs had been removed when I was brought to open the vault, and an idea came to me to lag behind and try to effect my escape from the house.

But Valcour was waiting for me at the trap door, and called Captain de Souza to guard me. I was taken to the large room on the ground floor, from whence they had brought me, thrust through the doorway, and the key turned upon me.

Piexoto had been taken elsewhere, and I found myself alone.

194My thoughts were naturally confused by the amazing discovery we had just made, and I was so engaged in wondering what had become of Dom Miguel and the records that I scarcely looked up when the door opened to admit Francisco Paola.

He had in his hand a small parcel that looked like a box, which he placed upon a table near the open window.

Next he drew a note-book from his pocket, scribbled some lines upon three several leaves, and then, tearing them out, he reached within the box, taking care to lift but a portion of the cover, and busied himself some moments in a way that made me wonder what he could be doing. I had no suspicion of the truth until he carried the box to the window and quickly removed the cover. Then, although his back was toward me, I heard a rapid flutter of wings, followed by a strange silence, and I knew that Paola was following with his eyes the flight of the birds he had liberated.

“So, my dear Minister, I have at last discovered your secret!” said a sharp voice, and as Paola whirled about I noted that 195Valcour had entered the room and was standing with folded arms and eyes that sparkled triumphantly.

“Orders to my men,” remarked the Minister, quietly, and brushed a small feather from his arm.

“True enough!” retorted Valcour, with a bitter smile. “Orders to General Fonseca, whom you strangely overlooked in making your decoy arrests. Orders to Sanchez Bastro, who is to distribute arms to the rebels! And where did the third pigeon go, my loyal and conscientious Minister of Police? To Mazanovitch, or to that Miguel de Pintra whom you falsely led us to believe had perished in yonder vault?”

He came close to the Minister.

“Traitor! In setting free these birds you have fired the torch of rebellion; that terrible flame which is liable to sweep the land, and consume royalist and republican alike!”

Paola, the sneering smile for once gone from his face, gazed at his accuser with evident admiration.

“You are wonderfully clever, my dear 196Valcour,” said he, slowly. “You have wit; you have a clear judgment; your equal is not in all Brazil. What a pity, my friend, that you are not one of us!”

Somehow, the words seemed to ring true.

Valcour flushed to the roots of his hair.

“I hate you,” he cried, stamping his foot with passion. “You have thwarted me always. You have laughed at me—sneered at me—defied me! But at last I have you in the toils. Francisco Paola, I arrest you in the name of the Emperor.”

“On what charge?”

“The charge of treason!”

Paola laughed softly, and in a tone denoting genuine amusement.

“Come, my brave detective,” said he; “we will go to the Emperor together, and accuse each other to our hearts’ content!”

He attempted to take Valc............