"None whatever, sir."
"Nor do I English; so we shall have to rely on the language of Spain."
"I am hardly expert in that" I explained. "But if you do not talk too fast, I can manage fairly well."
"I shall speak simply. Wait a moment."
He arose, stepped quietly to the door, and glanced out, returning apparently satisfied.
"I don't trust that damned steward," he said, "nor, as a matter of fact, anyone else wholly." He paused, and stared at me; then added: "I've never had any faith in your race, Gates, but am inclined to use you."
"I do not know any special reason why you should sir."
"No more do I. Every Englishman I ever knew was a liar, and a sneaking poltroon. I was brought up to hate the race, and always have. I can't say that I like you any better than the others. By God! I don't, for the matter of that. But just now you can be useful to me if you are of that mind. This is a business proposition, and it makes no odds if we hate each other, so the end is gained. How does that sound?"
I shifted my position so as to gain a clearer view of his face. I was still wholly at sea as to what the fellow was driving at—yet, evidently enough he was in earnest. It was my part to find out.
"Not altogether bad," I admitted. "I have been in some games of chance before."