"My dear fellow, I don't want you to be a spy at all," he said. "What on earth put that notion into your head? I should be the last to suggest such a thing. No, all I want you to do is to prevent them from playing me false. If you come with me as my friend, they'll turn you out again. Don't you see? They're much too sharp to let me employ a bodyguard to act against themselves. All you will have to do will be to stand between us in the capacity of an umpire, and see that there is fair play on both sides. Now, what have you to say?"
"Under those circumstances I have no objection to acting as you propose."
"Very good; that settles it. Now we'd better arrange one or two other little matters while we're about it, and then postpone the remainder until they arrive."
It was not until nearly nine o'clock that evening that the three men, whom Moreas had informed Max were so determined to share the chances of the expedition with him, put in an appearance. It was part of the plan, that Max and he had arranged together, that the former should not be in the room when they arrived. He was to drop in half an hour or so later, as if by chance, and then to appear annoyed at finding them there. When he did so, Moreas greeted him with well-simulated surprise. The others stared at the intruder, as if they scarcely knew what to make of him, and then at Moreas, as if they were suspicious of his action in the matter. On his part Max studied them with equal interest. The taller of the trio was an Englishman, possibly thirty-five years of age, who boasted a frank and extremely pleasing countenance. His name was Bertram, and, as Max discovered later, he had occupied a good position in the world, from which he had fallen, more by his own folly than on account of any material wrong-doing. The other two were unmistakably Spaniards. The name of one was Diego Pereira, that of the other Antonio Rodriguez. Neither of them were particularly pleasant-looking fellows, and Max wondered as he looked at them what it was that had made the Englishman associate with them.
At the moment Max entered, the two Spaniards were talking vociferously. From what he could catch of their conversation it appeared that they were extremely dissatisfied with something Moreas had done, and desired to make trouble out of it if only such a thing were possible. Their grievance eventually proved to be his own importation into the affair, of which Moreas had been telling them.
"But what can I do?" the latter asked snappishly. "He swears that he will come with us, and how am I to prevent him?"
"As it appears that I am the subject of your conversation," said Max coolly, seating himself on the table, "perhaps I may be permitted to say a word. Let me inform you, therefore, once and for all, that it is not a bit of use Moreas or anybody else trying to keep me out of the business. I know all the ins and outs of it, and, I tell you plainly, our friend here doesn't leave Rio without me. You can buy me off if you're willing to pay my price, but, I give you fair warning, it will be a stiff one. Otherwise, I go. Take your choice."
"What did I tell you?" said Moreas angrily to the others. "I wish to goodness you were all at the bottom of the sea."
"That is very likely," returned Max. "But as we're not, you've got to give yourself the pleasure of our society. Has anyone else any objection to raise?"
He looked round at the assembled company. His coolness had evidently impressed them.