“You believe in my papers, then?”
“Oh, yes, they are beyond suspicion,” said Mr Parkley, holding out his hand. “Only there are so many tricks played that one has to go carefully. Well, how are you? Glad to see you, and hope we shall be good friends.”
“My great friend!” exclaimed the Cuban, throwing his arms round the sturdy little man, and nearly oversetting him, stool and all, in his fervid embrace. “They were right: you are the true enterprising man of energy after all.”
“I say, don’t do that again, please,” said Mr Parkley. “We shake hands here, and save those hugs for the other sex—at least the young fellows do.”
“But I am overjoyed,” exclaimed the Cuban, enthusiastically. “Here, I will be English,” he cried, holding out his hand and shaking that of Dutch most heartily. “We two shall be great friends, I see. You will come too. You are young and full of energy, and you shall be as rich as he. You shall both draw up gold in heaps and be princes. Thank you both—thank you. And now we will make our plans.”
“Gently, gently,” exclaimed Mr Parkley; “this all takes time. If that treasure has lain for three hundred years at the bottom of the sea, it will be safe for a few months longer.”
“Ah, yes, yes.”
“Then we must take our time, and, if we go, make plenty of preparation.”
“Yes, yes,” said the Cuban; “take plenty of diving suits and a diving bell.”
“Don’t you fidget about that, sir,” said Mr Parkley, proudly. “I think we can find such appliances as will do the trick. Eh, Pugh?”