It was a matter of oil, he said at last, when he got to the point. It was well known that the engines required a great deal of oil, and he had several thousands of tons of oil for sale. "But what has that to do with me?” asked the girl, more surprised than ever.
He bowed again. “You are a great friend of ———”
“But how do you know that?”
“Oh pardon,” his hand on his heart, “Chinaman know everything. You can help me.”
“How?” she said still wondering.
“You speak to Mr ———-. He buy oil,” and he looked at her ingratiatingly.
She stared at him, hardly knowing whether to be angry or not.
“I have nothing to do with the locomotives.”
“Oh, but it will pay you,” said he, and from each side out of a long pocket he drew two heavy bags, and planked them down on her writing-table. Still she did not understand what he was driving at.
“For you,” said he, “for a few words.”