“It is bargain. What your terms?”
“Cash!” snapped Uncle Naboth, laughing at the man’s obstinacy.
The diamond-bedecked man leaned his elbow on the table and his head on his hand in a reflective pose. Then he straightened up and nodded his head vigorously.
“Why not?” he exclaimed. “Of course it must the cash be. You will know, sir, that a gentleman does not carry two hunder’ thousan’ dollar about his person, and although I have had more than that sum on deposit in Bank of Melbourne, it have been expend in recent purchases. However, nevertheless, in spite of, I may say, I have ample fund in Bogota. I will make you draft on my bank there, and you may sail with me in my ship and collect the money in gold when we arrive. That is cash payment, Señor; is not?”
“Bogota!” remarked my uncle, by this time thoroughly bewildered. “That is a long way off.”
“Merely across Pacific,” said the other easily. “There is direct route to it through the South Seas.”
My father nodded in confirmation of this statement. He knew his charts by heart.
“Sir,” said Uncle Naboth, sitting up and heaving a deep sigh, “I have not the honor of knowing who the blazes you are.”
The stranger cast a stealthy glance around the room. Then he leaned forward and said in a low voice:
“I am Jiminez.”