"Of course," said Wilmot simply.
"You are heavily in debt?"
"Very."
"Whatever I may say to you will go no further?"
"No further."
The legless man stroked his chin strongly with his thick fingers. "I am engineering a little revolution," he said. "My own morals are negligible. Any revolution that offered a profit would look good to me. But in this case the revolutionary party is oppressed, down-trodden, robbed, starved, and murdered by conditions created by the party in power. I am not yet at liberty to name you the part of the world in which this state of affairs exists, that will be for later. Meanwhile, if my proposition interests you, will you take my word for the place and for the abuse of power? Indeed, the latter smells to heaven."
"South America," said Wilmot, "is full of just such rottenness as you describe. I suppose you're speaking of some South American republic?"
"Maybe I am," said Blizzard, "and maybe I'm not. That will be for later--for January 15th. On that date my soldiers of fortune will be gathered in New York and told their destiny. I am hoping that you will be one of the leaders."
"I know nothing of soldiering."
"Your record proves that you are a great hand with a rifle. It stands to reason that you can teach the trick to others."