I shook hands with the licentiate. We rose and crossed to a group of players, that had increased considerably since our private conversation began. A crowd of spectators, two deep, surrounded the green board upon which the piastres rolled with a most attractive clink.
The licentiate passed before his two clients, the Mexican and the American, signing them to wait upon him, and walked up to a young man, who, like the other spectators, was devouring the green board with greedy look. This fellow, of a sallow and cadaverous aspect, wore an almost brimless hat over his long, thick hair, and a well-worn esclavina on his shoulders. He was the beau ideal of a lawyer's clerk, sorry at being unable to stake his master's fortune on a card.
"Ortiz!" said the licentiate, "have you writing materials with you?"
"Of course," the clerk replied; and he drew from his pocket a roll containing paper, pens, and ink. The licentiate sat down by himself, wrote a few lines, folded the paper, and passed it to his clerk, who replied to his master's directions, given in a low voice, only by a bow and a hurried exit. The licentiate then begged me to have patience for a few minutes longer, till he had given his two clients their promised consultation, and I mixed with the throng round the table. It was certainly an extraordinary sight; adventurers of all kinds surrounded me, reminding me strongly of the heroes in the old picaresque romances. I was struck by a remarkably characteristic feature. The banker had on the table by him a Catalonian knife, with an edge as keen as a razor. An intimation which he gave the players let me into the secret of this strange proceeding. "I warn the gentlemen now present," said he, "that if any one affects to confound the bank with his stake, I shall nail his hand to the table with this knife." This strange threat seemed not to astonish or offend any one; and I concluded that the mishap provided against by the banker had occurred more than once.
In spite of the extraordinary scenes I was witnessing, I could not help feeling the time rather long till the licentiate drew me away from the green board to a retired corner of the hall, where his two clients, the tall Yankee and the squinting Mexican, were seated together at a table. The American was just finishing a bottle of Catalonian refino, while the Mexican slowly sipped some iced tamarind water.
"Well," said the licentiate, regarding me with a look full of meaning, "here are two gentlemen who will remove your conscientious scruples regarding the four hundred piastres you owe me, and who affirm that you can very easily pay me by making over a similar debt due you by Señor Peralta, who will honor his signature with the greatest grace in the world."
"I did not say that," cried the American, with a roar of laughter. "I don't know if he will pay with pleasure. All I know is that he will pay, or—"
"Softly!" interrupted Don Tadeo. "From the moment that Peralta becomes my debtor, his life is valuable to me, and I require you to respect it."
"Señor Peralta will pay with pleasure, I uphold," said the Mexican, softly, sipping his liquor by mouthfuls as if it burned him, while the American emptied his glass of refino at a single draught, like so much water.
"Make him pay, that's all I care about," said the licentiate. "But is not that Pepito Rechifla with my clerk over there? That's capital! Ortiz has not been long about his business."