Naturally, he concluded, Uncle Brian's difficulties were not of a pecuniary nature, since he would not appeal to a nephew financially "on the rocks" for aid. Brian Strong was not that sort. The fact remained that he was, as he had confessed, in a hole and wanted to confide in his stalwart nephew.
"What's the trouble, Uncle?" he inquired. "Has anyone been threatening you out here? Are you in danger of your life?"
"I am," replied Brian Strong. "But that I consider a mere detail. It's not my life that counts, Peter; it's my work. I've made a terrible blunder—unconsciously, perhaps, but—well, I may as well commence at the beginning."
"Fire away," exclaimed Peter encouragingly.
"My story starts with my arrival in Rioguay," began Uncle Brian. "I'm lowering my voice purposely, Peter. Although no one in my employ speaks English—at least, I think so—there are other Rioguayans who do, and out here walls have longer ears than you and I are accustomed to. Well, I hadn't been more than a week in the place, when I discovered that Rioguay was a much more go-ahead republic than any I had previously seen during my wanderings in South America. There certainly seemed a jolly good opening in the mining-engineering line, and on making inquiries I found that I had to obtain a licence and register myself at the Department of the Minister of the Interior. That presented little difficulty. I gave all particulars of my career in accordance with the official requirements, paid the necessary fees, and came on to Tepecicoa.
"About a week later, I had a visit from a Don José Cordova, who introduced himself as the Minister of Transport. He was a long time beating about the bush. You'll find, Peter, that that is a characteristic of the Rioguayans. They'll use a hundred words to say what an Englishman would in half a dozen. He was courteous—very. He wanted me to take up an appointment under the Rioguayan Government, to design and supervise the construction of aircraft for commercial purposes. He mentioned the salary and stated that the estancia of El Toro would be provided as official quarters. Then, after a while, he asked whether I would embody the stabilizing device that I had offered to the British Air Ministry in the new type of machine."
"The one the Air Ministry turned down?" asked Peter.
"Yes, unfortunately," was the reply. "I tried to find out how Don José Cordova came to know about it, but he was as tight as an oyster over that. However, I considered the proposition. It was a tempting one. The British Government had had the chance of taking it up. Cordova took pains to point out to me that the Rioguayan Government would claim sole rights for the space of one year only. After that, I would be at liberty to sell the patent rights to anyone who cared to take the invention up. A week later, I accepted the appointment and signed the agreement. I took possession of El Toro, engaged my staff and a swarm of mechanics and labourers, and set to work. But it was not long before I made the discovery that I was virtually a prisoner and that my work was primarily intended as a menace to the country of my birth and to which I still belong.
"For the last two and a half years, there has been a growing anti-British feeling in Rioguay. The president, Jaime Samuda, is at the head of it, although I have been unable to find out the exact cause. Samuda is ambitious. There's no denying he's a strong man. The fact that there hasn't been a revolution in Rioguay since he was elected in 1917 proves that. At any rate, he's worked up a strong feeling against the British."
"So Mackenzie gave me to understand," observed Peter.