"I didn't think you were," I returned pleasantly. "That was why I was doubtful about answering you."
He smiled, looking at me curiously, with the same disconcerting intentness.
"Let us be frank, then," he said suddenly. "It happens that you have the power to be of considerable service to me, Mr. Burton."
He paused.
"Indeed?" I said, lighting a cigarette.
"On the other hand," he went on, "there is certainly a chance that I might be of some use to you."
I thought of the reported extent of his income, and then of my beautiful Bolivian goldfield.
"It is quite possible," I admitted gravely.
He leaned forward with his hands on the table. I noticed that they were muscular and sunburned—the hands of a man who has done hard physical work.
"But I must know more about you," he said. "Who are you? Where do you come from? What do you want from life?"