"Ready, chief," replied the hangman.
La Torre gave the final command. The hangman did his duty. The wife and mistress screamed in perfect timing with the snap of the rope. Dr. Aguirre departed for happier climes.
While the body still swung, an officer of the Federal Police hurried on the scene. He said, "Chief, you won't believe this, but—"
"But what?"
"The ambassador Mencias Mola is here with a visitor. This visitor is one of a group who arrived in Mexico a few hours ago. Senor Mencias flew this one here as fast as possible."
La Torre gaped. The visitor blinked three of his seven eyes and extended a tentacle. La Torre took the tentacle in his right hand and shook it.
The other four eyes of the visitor were trained upon the figure dangling on the scaffold, with—la Torre thought—a definite indication of curiosity. "Does he," la Torre asked the officer, "speak the language of my people?"
"Oh yes. Very smart, these extraterrestials."
"We have machines that teach quickly from your radio broadcasts," the e. t. said. "Ah—the suspended individual—"
"A martyr to his country. A paragon of wisdom and loyalty. Even now I am planning a special medal for him." La Torre stepped close to the scaffold and peered upward through experienced eyes. "It will of course be awarded posthumously," he said with marked sadness.
THE END