“I knew you would say just that, Señor de Mello, but if you don’t mind I shall stay in my uncle’s house if there is any way to get into it. He must be coming back soon. Where has he gone? What has become of his two servants?”
“You are a girl not to be cajoled if her mind is made up,” smiled the affectionate neighbor. “Wait, if you please, while I get the key. Uncle Ramon left it with me. Let the driver carry in your trunk, if you insist. Then you can run in and out as you please and have your meals with us. Your uncle’s servants have been sent away, you ought to know, until he returns to the city.”
Señor de Mello was obviously fencing with the story of Uncle Ramon’s curious departure, as if it might require considerable explanation. Teresa was mystified, but she asked no more questions until the banker came back with the heavy iron key. At his heels galloped a little brown monkey squeaking its annoyance at something or other. Teresa eyed it with dislike. She knew that monkey of old. It was not to be mistaken for any other wretched monkey in Colombia. It pulled at her skirt with tiny black paws and would have frisked to her shoulder, but she thrust it away with her foot.
“Little imp of the pit! You are no friend of mine. It is beyond me how my uncle could bear to part with you.”
The monkey grinned at her, showing every tooth in its head, and it was a most malevolent grin. Tail looped over its back, it scampered into the house ahead of them, casting back proud and hateful glances. This house belonged to it. These two persons were intruders. Into the silent patio scampered the monkey and went hand over hand up the trellis from which it swayed in a contemptuous manner.
Teresa was not interested in the antics of little brown monkeys. She went into the library. It was clean and orderly. The other rooms had been left in the same condition by the faithful servants.
“Yes, I think I will stay here, Señor de Mello. It will amuse me to keep house, after living so much in ships. Just now I am tired. I have not been feeling as strong as usual. Will you excuse me from calling on your family till later in the afternoon? I had breakfast on the ship.”
“As you say, Teresa. You have everything here for your comfort. You will dine with us to-night, of course. And now where has your uncle gone? Let us sit down? Your uncle is self-willed and like a mule to handle, as you know. And an old man must not be crossed too much. In the inscrutable wisdom of God, our Ramon Bazán took it into his head to become a shipowner and engage in the west coast trade. A bolt from a clear sky, I assure you, when he came to me to turn his securities into cash and finance the affair. He insisted on buying the old Valkyrie some time ago, very secretly, before he announced what he proposed to do with her.
“You remember the small German tramp steamer, Teresa, that was idle so long in the harbor. Then suddenly he told me he had decided to make repairs and go to Buenaventura for a cargo. It took much more money than he could afford to invest in such a scheme, but I could not refuse to get the funds together for him. My advice amounted to nothing. Objections drove him quite frantic. He had the bit between his teeth. Restless, craving change and excitement before death snatched him, he hit upon this foolish enterprise.”
“He did not tell you everything,” wisely observed Teresa. “I have not the slightest idea of what was in his ridiculous mind, but he expected to bring back more dollars than he spent. Uncle Ramon was never an idiot when it came to his precious money.”