"What does the Señor offer for it?" he said at length with a covetous leer.
"You sell your patriotism, eh? Well, I'll give you five dollars."
The landlord shook his head.
"I have lost many dollars of late through the war. It is worth more than five dollars."
"Well, I won't stick at a few dollars. Say ten."
"No, no. The Marquis of La Romana would give more than ten."
"I won't haggle with you," cried Jack. "I make you a last offer. If you accept it, you are so much to the good; if you refuse it, you not only won't get a maravedi, but you'll come pretty badly off when the authorities hear of it. I'll give you twenty dollars, and not a peseta more."
The landlord looked at him enquiringly, as though questioning whether he might not squeeze a few more dollars from the young officer. Jack eyed him firmly.
"That's final," he said. "Twenty dollars, or nothing, plus your country's curse."
"A paltry sum!" said the innkeeper. "In cash?" he asked cunningly.