Well, he was in a bad way for sure. He talked fast—often not finishing what he had to say. He laughed a great deal, too, and when the laugh passed and the dreary look came on his face again, it was enough to make you shiver.
Presently a nice little man came up—a Spaniard and a gentleman.
From the time I took hold of his hand I felt more cheerful. You knew by his eye he understood things.
Sax introduced him as an old friend and as his partner in the business. "Perez puts up the money and the experience," says he, "and I put up a bold front."
"After I've begged you not to speak in that way?" says Perez, smiling, but reproachful.
"I'm not sailing under false colors," says Sax, sharp. "You've made an asylum for an empty head—you'll have to listen to it."
Perez dropped the subject at once.
The Spaniard turned to me and asked me most courteously about my aims in the country. We were talking along when Saxton interrupted us. "We'll never get enough to drink this way," says he; "come into the office."
We went back into the little room where they entertained the big customers. Saxton called a boy and ordered brandy. When it came he grabbed the bottle feverishly. As he did so, Perez glanced at me. We understood each other.
Sax couldn't drink until we joined him—habit again—how she pulls! He wanted that drink. It was the one thing he did want in the world, yet there he waited while we fooled away as much time as we could.