“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. “Really, Mr. Martin, you must use your discretion as to what you tell your employees. You can hardly expect me to tell Jones anything, beyond that it’s a fine morning.”
We had now reached the bank, which stood in Liberty Street, a turning out of the Piazza. I took out my key, unlocked the door, and we entered together. We passed into my inner sanctum, where the safe stood.
“What’s it in?” asked the President.
“United States bonds, and bills on New York and London,” I replied.