“I undertake to contribute the same amount,” said the envoy of Spain, “but with no condition attached.”
The color deepened in the cheek of the great conspirator. His eye glittered a trifle more brilliantly.
“You named a certain condition, sir,” he said to Merry.
“Yes, one entirely obvious.”
“What is it, then, your excellency?” Burr inquired.
“You yourself have made it plain. The infernal ingenuity of yonder Corsican—curse his devilish brain!—has rolled a greater stone in our yard than could be placed there by any other human agency. We could not believe that Napoleon Bonaparte would part with Louisiana thus easily. No doubt he feared the British fleet at the mouth of the river—no doubt Spain was glad enough that our guns were not at New Orleans ere this. But, I say, he rolled that stone in our yard. If title to this Louisiana purchase is driven through to the Pacific—as Mr. Jefferson plans so boldly—the end is written now, Colonel Burr, to all your enterprises! Britain will be forced to content herself with what she can take on the north, and Spain eventually will hold nothing worth having on the south. By the Lord, General Bonaparte fights well—he knows how to sacrifice a pawn in order to checkmate a king!”
“Yes, your excellency,” said Burr, “I agree with you, but——”
“And now my condition. Follow me closely. I say if that wedge is driven home—if that expedition of Mr. Jefferson’s shall succeed—its success will rest on one factor. In short, there is a man at the head of that expedition who must fight with us and not against us, else my own interest in this matter lacks entirely. You know the man I have in mind.”
Burr nodded, his lips compressed.