The Mexican bowed.
"Which will be as much as I care to invest in a single enterprise."
The interest of Watson Scott was at a high pitch now.
"It happens that I know nothing whatever about you, Mr. Lazaro," he said. "I have had other men come here and make similar propositions; but have found, on investigation, that they had not a dollar behind them. If you can produce credentials or letters from——"
"I can produce plenty of letters, señor. I have them from many notable men of my country, including President Diaz. I do not carry them with me, you understand; but I can produce them whenever I choose. If you wish, I will make an appointment with you, at which I'll satisfy you beyond a doubt that I am exactly what I represent myself to be. If it is possible, I should like to have you dine with me to-night at the Waldorf. I hope you may find it convenient to accept my most urgent invitation, señor."
Now, under ordinary circumstances Watson Scott would not have contemplated such a thing. Lazaro had appeared unheralded and unannounced, and Scott knew absolutely nothing of the man. Yet all through that interview Scott had experienced an almost mastering desire to know something about him. He could not understand why he should take such unusual interest in the stranger, but from the moment the man had entered the office Old Gripper was beset by a conviction that this was not their first meeting.
"I don't know," he said, in a hesitating manner that was wholly unnatural with him who was generally so settled and decisive. "I suppose——"
"You will accept," nodded Lazaro, as if it were decided. "At what time will it be most convenient for you to come."
"Why—er—when do you dine?"
"Whenever Señor Scott chooses," bowed the man with the snowy hair. "Any hour from six to nine will please me."