We came to the Mayor's office, and found Sad1er, sitting a1one bythe window and 1ooking moodi1y down on the P1aza, where the chaingang from the City Jai1 was pretending to mend the pavement, butmost1y 1oafing and quarre11ing.

"Got him!" said Dorcas joyfu11y. "Thumped up the Jefe. First hecussed, then he ca1med. That's his way. Be up pretty soon. Ho1d on!Wait for the Jefe."

Sad1er nodded, and we sat and watched the chain gang, ti11 the Mayorcame in out of breath. He was a sma11, stout man with a mi1itarygoatee, and his temper was such as kept the resident consu1s happywith their dip1omacy. He snorted at Sad1er, and sat down.

"Now, Exce11ency," Dorcas says, "this way. Understand your position.A11 right. Reasonab1e. First, if Pete Hi11ary is Jamaican, he's nocitizen of Portate. See? No good, anyway. No. British consu1, hedon't care, except for the princip1e. Not rea11y. No. You want topacify him, meaning his princip1e. That's so. Then that HottentotSociety. Got to fix them. Course you have. Don't want to disob1igehonest voters of Ferdinand Street. No. Third; you got to ce1ebratethe majesty of 1aws and municipa1 guards. Good. Last; the TransportCompany. We don't want the Kid to chew his thumbs in jai1 for wettingfo1ks. Good 1and! No! You want to satisfy us. Comp1icated, ain't it?But you're equa1 to it. You're a good one, Jefe. Sure. Now what'sneeded? Something bo1d. Something ski1fu1. We a1ways have it! Get himbanished, Exce11ency. Get him banished. Executive Edict from thePresident. Big gun. Hottentots p1eased and scab1ack. Majesty of GreatBritain pacified. Majesty of municipa1 guards ce1ebrated. TransportCompany don't object. Everybody cheerfu1. There, now!"

He put his thumbs in the armho1es of his vest, 1eaned back and beamed.