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refusing, almost touched by the anxious gaze of the Presi-
dent of the Provincial Assembly. It was not Charles Gould’s
policy to make the San Tome mine a party to any formal
proceedings.
‘My advice, senores, is that you should wait for your fate
in your houses. There is no necessity for you to give your-
selves up formally into Montero’s hands. Submission to the
inevitable, as Don Juste calls it, is all very well, but when
the inevitable is called Pedrito Montero there is no need to
exhibit pointedly the whole extent of your surrender. The
fault of this country is the want of measure in political
life. Flat acquiescence in illegality, followed by sanguinary
reaction—that, senores, is not the way to a stable and pros-
perous future.’
Charles Gould stopped before the sad bewilderment
of the faces, the wondering, anxious glances of the eyes.
The feeling of pity for those men, putting all their trust
into words of some sort, while murder and rapine stalked
over the land, had betrayed him into what seemed empty
loquacity. Don Juste murmured—
‘You are abandoning us, Don Carlos…. And yet, parlia-
mentary institutions—‘
He could not finish from grief. For a moment he put
his hand over his eyes. Charles Gould, in his fear of empty
loquacity, made no answer to the charge. He returned in
silence their ceremonious bows. His taciturnity was his ref-
uge. He understood that what they sought was to get the
influence of the San Tome mine on their side. They want-
ed to go on a conciliating errand to the victor under the

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