The men were not alone, for Carmen accompanied them. Reed was reluctantly bringing her at the urgent request received from Ketchim over the telephone the previous evening. But the girl, subdued by the rush of events since her precipitation into the seething American world of materialism, sat apart from them, gazing with rapt attention through the begrimed window at the flying scenery, and trying to interpret it in the light of her own tenacious views of life and the universe. If the marvels of this new world into which she had been thrown had failed to realize her expectations––if she saw in them, and in the sense of life which they express, something less real, less substantial, than do those who laud its grandeur and power to charm––she gave no hint. She was still absorbing, sifting and digesting the welter of impressions. She had been overpowered, smothered by the innovation; and she now found her thoughts a tangled jumble, which she strove incessantly to unravel and classify according to their content of reality, as judged by her own standards.
“Why, Ames,” replied Reed, turning a watchful eye upon Carmen, “is a multimillionaire financier of New York––surely you have heard of him! He and his clique practically own the 44 United States, and a large slice of Europe. For some reason Ames bought a block of Molino stock. And now, I judge, Ketchim would give his chances on eternal life if he hadn’t sold it to him. And that’s what’s worrying me, too. For, since Ames is heavily interested in Molino, what will he do to the new company that absorbs it?”
“There isn’t going to be any new company,” asserted Harris doggedly.
“There’s got to be!” cried Reed. “Ketchim holds us strictly to our contract. Our negotiations with old Rosendo were made while in the employ of Molino. It wouldn’t be so bad if we had only Ketchim to deal with. We’ve got the goods on him and could beat him. But here enters Ames, a man of unlimited wealth and influence. If he wants La Libertad, he’s going to get it, you mark me! Where we fell down was in ever mentioning it to Ketchim. For if we don’t come over now he will lay the whole affair before Ames. He told me over the ’phone last night that he was badly in debt––that Ames was pressing him––that many of the Molino stockholders were making pertinent inquiries. Oh, he quite opened his heart! And yesterday I saw on his desk a letter from Ames. I can imagine what it contained. Ketchim would sacrifice us and everything else to keep himself out of Ames’s grip. We’re in for it, I tell you! And all because we were a bit too previous in believing that the girl had disappeared for good.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Harris, “but doesn’t it sound like a fairy-tale, the way Carmen got back to us?”
“And here I am,” continued Reed, with a gesture of vexation, “left with the girl on my hands, and with a very healthy prospect of losing out all around. My wife said emphatically last night that she wouldn’t be bothered with Carmen.”
“Well, she won’t bother you. Send her away to school.”
“Fine! Good idea!” replied Reed sarcastically. “But do you realize that that involves expense? I’m a comparatively poor man, just getting a start in my profession, and with a young and socially ambitious wife!”
“But––your wife––er, she’s going to––to have money some day, isn’t she?”
“Very true. But the grim reaper has a little work to do first. And on occasions like this he’s always deucedly deliberate, you know. Meantime, we’re skating close to the edge––for New Yorkers.”