CHAPTER III.
AN EXCESS OF AUTHORITY.
It was a beautiful moonlight night, and Whittingham was looking her best as we made our way along the avenue leading to the Piazza 1871.
The President walked briskly, silent but serene; I followed, the trouble in my mind reflected in a somewhat hang-dog air, and I was not much comforted when the President broke the stillness of the night by saying: "You have set your foot on the first rung of the ladder that leads to fame and wealth, Mr.Martin." I was rather afraid I had set it on the first rung of the ladder that leads to the gallows.

But there the foot was; what the ladder turned out to be was in the hands of the gods; so I threw off care, and as we entered the Piazza I pointed to the statue and said: "Behold my inspiring example, your Excellency." "By Jove, yes!" he replied; "I make the most of my opportunities." I knew he regarded me as one of his opportunities, and was making the most of me.

This is not a pleasant point of view to regard one's self from, so I changed the subject, and said: "Shall we call for Don Antonio ?" "Why ?" "Well, as he's Minister of Finance, I thought perhaps his presence would make the matter more regular." "If the presence of the President," said that official, "can't make a matter regular, I don't know what can.

Let him sleep on.

Isn't his signature on the bonds enough ?" What could I do?
I made one more weak objection: "What shall we tell Jones ?" "What shall _we_ tell Jones ?" he echoed.