“What’s this?” The frown on the Spaniard’s brow deepened as he read the message Johnny laid before him. “Gather twenty thousand defective bunches for shipment? What nonsense!”
“So you are Diaz?”
“I am Diaz. And you?”
“Johnny Thompson.”
“American.” There was contempt in the man’s tone. “Adventurer!”
“American,” said Johnny quietly. “As for the other, it matters little to you whether I am or not. You will deliver the bananas at the dock, this dock, to-morrow morning; at Dock No. 2 the next day; and at No. 3 that same night.”
“The order is forged,” said the manager, throwing the letter on the table. “My master would have no part in such nonsense. Twenty thousand defective bunches!”
“Six hand bunches,” corrected Johnny quietly. “The order is not forged. You know it is not. Ignore it at your own risk. Your position as manager is at stake. You will send your men into the field at once.”
“Manana. To-morrow,” said the manager after several moments spent in thought.
“To-day,” said Johnny.