“In your affairs of mutual relationship with the land to the west, there are not less than a dozen causes upon which war could be started without difficulty,” went on Allison. “In fact, you require perpetual diplomacy to prevent war with that country.”
The visitor locked his thick fingers quietly together and kept on stolidly staring.
“I hear what you say,” he admitted.
“You are about to have a war,” Allison advised him.
“I do not believe so,” and the visitor ponderously shook his head.
“I am sorry to correct you, but you yourself will bring it about. You will make, within a month, an unfortunate error of diplomatic judgment, and your old strip of disputed territory will be alive with soldiers immediately.”
“No, it is not true,” and the visitor went so far, in his emphasis, as to unlock his fingers and rest one hand on the back of the other.
“I think I am a very fair prophet,” said Allison easily. “I have made money by my prophecy. I have more money at my command at the present time than any man in the world, than any government; wealth beyond handling in mere currency. It can only be conveyed by means of checks. Let me show you how easy it is to write them,” and drawing a blank book to him, he wrote a check, and signed his name, and filled out the stub, and tore it out, and handed it to the visitor for inspection. The visitor was properly pleased with Allison’s ease in penmanship.
“I see,” was the comment, and the check was handed back. He drew his straight-crowned derby towards him.
“I have made a mistake,” said Allison. “I have left off a cipher,” and correcting this omission with a new check, he tore up the first one.