Again Alvarez Torres bowed.
You need the money, Regan continued. Strive to interest him. That thousand is for your effort. Succeed in interesting him so that he departs after old Morgans gold, and two thousand more is yours. So thoroughly succeed in interesting him that he remains away three months, two thousand more six months, five thousand. Oh, believe me, I knew his father. We were comrades, partners, I I might say, almost brothers. I would sacrifice any sum to win his son to manhoods wholesome path. What do you say? The thousand is yours to begin with. Well?
With trembling fingers Senor Alvarez Torres folded and unfolded the check.
I I accept, he stammered and faltered in his eagerness. I I How shall I say?.. I am yours to command.
Five minutes later, as he arose to go, fully instructed in the part he was to play and with his story of Morgans treasure revised to convincingness by the brass-tack business acumen of the stock-gambler, he blurted out, almost facetiously, yet even more pathetically:
And the funniest thing about it, Mr. Regan, is that it is true. Your advised changes in my narrative make it sound more true, but true it is under it all. I need the money. You are most munificent, and I shall do my best I I pride myself that I am an artist. But the real and solemn truth is that the clue to Morgans buried loot is genuine. I have had access to records inaccessible to the public, which is neither here nor there, for the men of my own family they are family records have had similar access, and have wasted their lives before me in the futile search. Yet were they on the right clue except that their wits made them miss the spot by twenty miles. It was there in the records. They missed it, because it was, I think, a deliberate trick, a conundrum, a puzzle, a disguisement, a maze, which I, and I alone, have penetrated and solved. The early navigators all played such tricks on the charts they drew. My Spanish race so hid the Hawaiian Islands by five degrees of longitude.
All of which was in turn Greek to Thomas Regan, who smiled his acceptance of listening and with the same smile conveyed his busy business-mans tolerant unbelief.
Scarcely was Senor Torres gone, when Francis Morgan was shown in.
Just thought Id drop around for a bit of counsel, he said, greetings over. And to whom but you should I apply, who so closely played the game with my father? You and he were partners, I understand, on some of the biggest deals. He always told me to trust your judgment. And, well, here I am, and I want to go fishing. Whats up with Tampico Petroleum?
What is up? Regan countered, with fine simulation of ignorance of the very thing of moment he was responsible for precipitating. Tampico Petroleum?
Francis nodded, dropped into a chair, and lighted a cigarette, while Regan consulted the ticker.
Tampico Petroleum is up two points you should worry, he opined.
Thats what I say, Francis concurred. I should worry. But just the same, do you think some bunch, onto the inside value of it and its big I speak under the rose, you know, I mean in absolute confidence? Regan nodded. It is big. It is right. It is the real thing. It is legitimate. Now this activity would you think that somebody, or some bunch, is trying to get control?
His fathers associate, with the reverend gray of hair thatching his roof of crooked brain, shook the thatch.
Why, he amplified, it may be just a flurry, or it may be a hunch on the stock public that its really good. What do you say?
Of course its good, was Francis warm response. Ive got reports, Regan, so good theyd make your hair stand up. As I tell all my friends, this is the real legitimate. Its a damned shame I had to let the public in on it. It was so big, I just had to. Even all the money my father left me, couldnt swing it I mean, free money, not the stuff tied up money to work with.
Are you short? the older man queried.
Oh, Ive got a tidy bit to operate with, was the airy reply of youth.
You mean?
Sure. Just that. If she drops, Ill buy. Its finding money.
Just about how far would you buy? was the next searching interrogation, masked by an expression of mingled good humor and approbation.
All Ive got, came Francis Morgans prompt answer. I tell you, Regan, its immense.
I havent looked into it to amount to anything, Francis; but I will say from the little I know that it listens good.
Listens! I tell you, Regan, its the Simon-pure, straight legitimate, and its a shame to have it listed at all. I dont have to wreck anybody or anything to pull it across. The world will be better for my shooting into it I am afraid to say how many hundreds of millions of barrels of real oil say, Ive got one well alone, in the Huasteca field, thats gushed 27,000 barrels a day for seven months. And its still doing it. Thats the drop in the bucket weve got piped to market now. And its twenty-two gravity, and carries less than two-tenths of one per cent. of sediment. And theres one gusher sixty miles of pipe to build to it, and pinched down to the limit of safety, thats pouring out all over the landscape just about seventy thousand barrels a day. Of course, all in confidence, you know. Were doing nicely, and I dont want Tampico Petroleum to skyrocket.
Dont you worry about that, my lad. Youve got to get your oil piped, and the Mexican revolution straightened out before ever Tampico Petroleum soars. You go fishing and forget it. Regan paused, with finely simulated sudden recollection, and picked up Alvarez Torres card with the pencilled note. Look, whos just been to see me. Apparently struck with an idea, Regan retained the card a moment. Why go fishing for mere trout? After all, its only recreation. Heres a thing to go fishing after that theres real recreation in, full-size mans recreation, and not the Persian-palace recreation of an Adirondack camp, with ice and servants and electric push-buttons. Your father always was more than a mite proud of that old family pirate. He claimed to look like him, and you certainly look like your dad.
Sir Henry, Francis smiled, reaching for the card. So am I a mite proud of the old scoundrel.
He looked up questioningly from the reading of the card.
Hes a plausible cuss, Regan explained. Claims to have been born right down there on the Mosquito Coast, and to have got the tip from private papers in his family. Not that I believe a word of it. I havent time or interest to get started believing in stuff outside my own field.
Just the same, Sir Henry died practically a poor man, Francis asserted, the lines of the Morgan stubbornness knitting themselves for a flash on his brows. And they never did find any of his buried treasure.
Good fishing, Regan girded good-humoredly.
Id like to meet this Alvarez Torres just the same, the young man responded.
Fools gold, Regan continued. Though I must admit that the cuss is most exasperatingly plausible. Why, if I were younger but oh, the devil, my works cut out for me here.
Do you know where I can find him? Francis was asking the next moment, all unwittingly putting his neck into the net of tentacles that Destiny, in the visible incarnation of Thomas Regan, was casting out to snare him.
The next morning the meeting took place in Regans office. Senor Alvarez Torres startled and controlled himself at first sight of Francis face. This was not missed by Regan, who grinningly demanded: