"We haven't a cargo license for the Betty," said Tony, "but I don't know that it really matters."
Congosta came nearer still. "You will do it," he gasped. "You will lend us this money? You will take the cartridges on your yacht?"
Tony nodded again. "Why, of course," he said. "It's the least I can do after losing Isabel in that careless fashion."
With an exclamation of joy Congosta seized hold of his hand, and commenced wringing it violently up and down.
"My friend," he exclaimed with tears in his eyes. "How can I ever thank you?"
"But Good Heavens!" interrupted Guy, drawing in his breath. "Do you realize what this means? It's—it's—filibustering—piracy—buccaneering——"
"Is it?" said Tony—"what fun! I have always wanted to be a buccaneer ever since I was thirteen." He disentangled himself with some difficulty from the clutches of Congosta. "Don't worry, Guy," he added, "you needn't be mixed up with it in any way."
"What!" For a moment Guy's indignation rendered him almost speechless. "Do you suppose I am thinking of myself? Do you imagine I shall desert you—now—at this time?"
"There is not the danger that the Señor fancies," broke in Congosta with a kind of feverish eagerness. "Listen! I will explain!" He turned to Tony. "You have heard of Braxa?"
"I don't think so," said Tony regretfully. "You see I was educated at Eton."