"In two months, provided that my enemies do not kill me first, which I think is hardly probable."
"One hopes not, but there is another risk; not large, perhaps, but to be reckoned with."
Altiera laughed.
"That the people may choose another President? No, señor. I rule this country. When I cease to do so it will be because I am dead. Let us be candid. Your concessions depend upon the luck that may attend some assassin's attempt, and I take precautions."
Cliffe thought this was true. Altiera carried a pistol, and could use it remarkably well, and two armed guards were posted outside the veranda.
"There is a condition," Altiera said. "The concessions will be yours in two months, but payment of the money my secretary asked for must be made in a fortnight, or, if this is impossible, as soon as you get home."
"It would suit me better to take the concessions in a fortnight and pay in two months," Cliffe retorted coolly.
"I am not a trader, señor; I do not dispute and haggle over a bargain."
"Neither do I," said Cliffe. "Still, it's necessary for a trader to state his terms."
There was silence for a few moments, and Cliffe, studying his antagonist's face, thought his statement justified. The man might use brutal means to gain his end, but he would not contend about a small advantage.