I nodded, thinking to humor him. Indeed, I could not determine at that moment whether the man was still insane or not.
He drew a chair to my side and sat down.
“Listen, then, my frien’. Together we will find riches—riches very great! Why? Because we Mexicans—Careno and myself—we build the door of the big vault under this house. So? They bring us here blindfold. We work many days on the big plate with strange device cut in the steel. Careno was expert. Only one place, cut with great cunning, shot the bolts in their sockets. For myself, I am clockmaker and gem-cutter. They tell me to cut emerald so it fit the plate, and mount it in ring. Yes, it was I, Señor Americano, who do that fine work—I, Manuel Pesta!
“Then they carry us away, blindfold again, to the border of Uruguay. We do not know this house—we cannot find it again ever. So they think. But to make sure they hire men to assassinate us—to stab us to the heart in those Uruguay Mountain. Fine pay for our work—eh, señor? But, peste! Careno and I—we stab our assassins—we escape—we swear vengeance! For two year we wander in Brazil—seeking, ever seeking for the house with the vault.
“How clever they are! But we, are we not also clever? On a railway train one day we see a lady with the ring! We cannot mistake—I made it, and I know my work. It is key to the big vault! Careno cannot wait. He sit beside lady and put his knife in her heart. The train rattle along and the lady make no noise. But the ring sticks, so Careno cuts off finger and puts in pocket. Are we not clever, señor? Now we have ring, but yet know not of the house with the vault. We keep quiet and ride on to Rio. There the dead lady is carried out and all is excitement. She is Señora Izabel de Mar, daughter of Dom Miguel de Pintra. She come from her father’s house at Cuyaba. This we hear and remember. Then a man they call Valcour he rush up and cry, ‘Her finger is gone! The ring—where is the ring?’ Aha! we know now we are right.
“So we go away and find out about Miguel de Pintra—the head of great rebellion with millions of gold and notes to pay the soldiers when they fight. Good! We know now of the vault. We know we have key. We know we are now rich! Careno and I we go to Cuyaba—we find this house—we hide in the bushes till night. Then Careno get mad for the money—he want it all, not half—and he try to murder me. Ah, well! my pistol is quicker than his knife, that is all. He is wearing ring, and it stick like it stick on lady’s hand. Bah! I cut off Careno’s hand and carve away the ring. It is simple, is it not?
“But now the soldiers gallop up. The house is fill with people. So I must wait. I hide in secret place, but soon they drag me out and make me prisoner. What! must I lose all now—millions—millions of gold—and no Careno to share it? No! I am still clever. I keep ring in mouth until I meet you, and I give it to you to keep. When they search me, there is no ring.”
He sprang up, chuckling and rubbing his hands together in great delight. He danced a step or two and then drew the steel fork from his breast and struck it fiercely into the table-top, standing silently to watch it while the prongs quivered and came to rest.
“Am I not clever?” he again asked, drawing out the fork from the wood and returning it to his breast. “But I am generous, too. You shall divide with me. But not half! I won all from Careno, but you shall have some—enough to be rich, Señor Americano. And now, give me the ring!”
By this time his eyes were glittering with insanity, and at his abrupt demand I shifted uneasily in my seat, not knowing how to reply.