“It does,” said Ames. “I grow tea for my table in both China and Ceylon. And I have exclusive coffee plantations in Java and Brazil. But I’m now negotiating for one in Colombia, for I think that, without doubt, the finest coffee in the world is grown there, although it never gets beyond the coast line.”
“Fortuna non deo,” murmured the churchman; “you man of chance and destiny!”
Ames laughed genially. “My friend,” said he, “I have always insisted that I possessed but a modicum of brains; but I am a gambler. My god is chance. With ordinary judgment and horse-sense, I take risks that no so-called sane man would consider. The curse of the world is fear––the chief instrument that you employ to hold the masses to your churchly system. I was born without it. I know that as long as a business opponent has fear to contend with, I am his master. Fear is at the root of every ailment of mind, body, or environment. I repeat, I know not the meaning of the word. Hence my position in the business world. Hence, also, my freedom from the limitations of superstition, religious or otherwise. Do you get me?”
“Yes,” replied Lafelle, drawing a long sigh, “in a sense I do. But you greatly err, my friend, in deprecating your own powerful intellect. I know of no brain but yours that could have put South Ohio Oil from one hundred and fifty dollars up to over two thousand a share. I had a few shares of that stock myself. But I held until it broke.”
Ames smiled knowingly. “Sorry I didn’t know about it,” he said. “I could have saved you. I didn’t own a dollar’s worth of South Ohio. Oh, yes,” he added, as he saw Lafelle’s eyes widening in surprise, “I pushed the market up until a certain lady, whom you and I both know, thought it unwise to go further, and then I sprung the sudden discovery of Colombian 115 oil fields on them; and the market crashed like a burst balloon. The lady cleared some two millions on the rig. No, I didn’t have a drop of Colombian oil to grease the chute. It was American nerve, that’s all.”
“Well!” ejaculated Lafelle. “If you had lived in the Middle Ages you’d have been burnt for possessing a devil!”
“On the contrary,” quickly amended Ames, his eyes twinkling, “I’d have been made a Cardinal.”
Both men laughed over the retort; and then Ames summoned the valet to set in motion the great electrical pipe-organ, and to bring the whiskey and soda.
For the next hour the two men gave themselves up to the supreme luxury of their magnificent environment, the stimulation of their beverage and cigars, and the soothing effect of the soft music, combined with the gentle movement of the boat. Then Ames took his guest into the smoking room proper, and drew up chairs before a small table, on which were various papers and writing materials.
“Now,” he began, “referring to your telephone message of this morning, what is it that you want me to do for you? Is it the old question of establishing a nunciature at Washington?”