Legira bowed and drew a sheet of paper from his pocket. He laid it upon the desk, and indicated a
tabulation with his forefinger.
“You see,” he said, “there are three ships that sail within the next four days. I intend to travel upon one of
them. I shall have the money in my custody. Every one of those boats either calls at a port near
Santander or connects with another ship that will serve my purpose.”
“Which one do you intend to take?”
“I do not know. That I shall decide later.”
“Legira”—Hendrix spoke in an emphatic tone—“this proposal calls for careful consideration. Our
payment of ten million dollars was based upon the belief that there could be no complications in a deal
transacted with the government of Santander. Your present actions indicate an uncertainty.”
Legira was cunning in his reply.
“Uncertainty with Santander?” he queried. “Indeed no, Mr. Hendrix. Your man here will tell you that I
called you two days ago. Had you been in town at that time, there would have been no difficulty. I had
made arrangements then.
“It was you who caused the uncertainty. Because of that, I thought it best to adjust my plans accordingly.
I had arranged passage on this ship”—he indicated one on the list—“but I canceled it for fear that I
would not be able to communicate with you in time. Canceled passages—with reengagements— are not
a good practice, Mr. Hendrix. That is why I have thought it best to be secretive.”
THE explanation was vague and unsatisfactory to Hendrix. Nevertheless, the financier was forced to
admit that he had been at fault. He could not question Legira's present actions, because he himself was
somewhat responsible. The shrewd South American saw that he had gained a point. He was quick to
press it.
“Why worry, Mr. Hendrix?” he asked quietly. “Nothing has arisen to change our negotiations. You are
authorized to give me the money; I am authorized to receive it. I have stated that I wish it now—so that I
may ship it as I see best.
“I understand Santander, Mr. Hendrix. False rumors there might lead to difficulties. It has seemed best
for me to deliver the ten million dollars in person. That is to your great advantage.”
“Perhaps,” agreed Hendrix. “But it might be best to call another conference.”
“No!” exclaimed Legira. “That would be a grave mistake. We settled our plans when we met before.
Steamship sailings have been a trouble to me. One week I was forced to wait for a suitable vessel. Now,
I have the opportunity to sail—but you have caused me a delay. It is wise to act at once; to let me do
however I have planned.”
Hendrix slowly opened a desk drawer. He took out a stack of papers. He began to go over them, while
Legira watched him craftily. Hendrix pondered on a typed agreement. Legira leaned close and indicated
certain paragraphs.
“You see?” he questioned in a low voice. “See there? It empowers us, as agents, to deal as we see
best—”
“Certainly,” interposed Hendrix. “Nevertheless, it calls upon our mutual satisfaction with any proposed
arrangements. I am simply considering the limits of my power, Legira.”
“Ah!” Legira's voice was triumphant as he snatched a paper from the pile that Hendrix was holding. “You
have forgotten this, Mr. Hendrix! You will remember that it was in those papers which I submitted with
my plan!”
Hendrix looked at the paper. It bore the wording of a receipt, stating that Alvarez Legira had been
intrusted with the funds supplied by the New York financiers.
“Yes,” mused Hendrix, “I had forgotten this. I recall it now; we had it so that I or any other agent who
might take the money to Santander could deliver it to you there—”
“It does not mention Santander,” interrupted Legira. “That paper was intended for such a situation as
this, Mr. Hendrix. If you will deliver the money to me, as I have just requested, I shall sign that document,
and thus relieve you of all responsibility.”
Hendrix was weakening. The discovery of the special paper among the other documents was a clinching
argument for Legira. With the tables swinging in his favor, the South American used all his natural gift of
persuasion.
“It is a matter of mutual trust and confidence,” he declared serenely. “You were chosen by your friends; I
was chosen by mine. I foresaw that the final negotiations in this matter could best be handled by two men
who saw alike.”
“Where were you when I called you by phone?” demanded Hendrix suddenly. “Who is Lengle?”
“Lengle is myself,” smiled Legira. “Surely, you must understand the situation, Mr. Hendrix. When I
realized that it would be necessary for me to go in person to Santander, I did not engage a passage in my
own name.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was not sure of you. The word might have reached my country that I was coming there—then
I would not appear. That would be very bad. It would create an impression of uncertainty. So I signed as
Lengle—Albert Lengle—and called you afterward.
“When I learned that you were out of town, I decided it would be best to remain as Lengle at the Corona
Hotel. I have been very careful while there, for I must not be recognized. You understand?”
“I don't like it,” said Hendrix bluntly.
“Perhaps it is because you do not understand our ways,” remarked Legira. “In Santander, there has been
much intrigue. We of that country know well that we must be careful in our dealings. I am giving you
assurance that all is well. It would be a great mistake for you to have doubts, Mr. Hendrix. My plans are
made. Why should they be destroyed?”
HENDRIX folded his arms and looked dubious. He stared at Legira, and the South American met his
glance with a frankness that was disarming. It seemed that Legira had a faculty for reading the thoughts of
others.
“You are wondering about my appearance,” said the South American, stroking his roughened chin. “Ah,
Mr. Hendrix, you forget that I have been staying at a hotel, wondering when I should hear from you—
waiting in anxiety.”
Hendrix nodded. His doubts were fading. He felt that he was confronted by a difficult problem.
He could not well refuse Legira's request. It would not be wise to consult with other members of the
financial group. Hendrix wanted a middle ground; and he found it.
“All right, Legira,” he said suddenly. “I can let you have the funds. How soon do you need them?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Where do you want them delivered?”
“I shall call for them.”
“Alone?”
“No. With my trusted man, Francisco.”
“Very well.”
Hendrix called Jermyn. He gave the man certain telephone numbers to call. As each of the numbers were
obtained, Hendrix took the telephone and gave orders to subordinates. Legira looked on, calmly
enjoying this display of efficiency, the manner in which the financier was arranging for the accumulation of
ten million dollars in cash and government bonds.
At length, the work was ended. Hendrix turned to Legira and indicated the paper which served as a
receipt.
“It would be best for you to sign this before you leave,” said the financier. “I have arranged for the funds
to
be delivered to you at the Baltham Trust Company, to-night at nine o'clock. I shall give you a signed
order.
“You should leave here at quarter past eight. You can wait until then before signing the receipt. Unless, of
course, you feel that you should not sign the receipt until you have actually received the funds.”
Legira reached for the paper. He took a pen and affixed his signature to the bottom of the sheet.
“Your word is sufficient, Mr. Hendrix,” he said. “I consider the funds as already in my possession. I am
satisfied.”
Hendrix nodded in acknowledgment of the confidence which Legira felt. Everything had been done in fair
fashion. Legira had heard the discussion of all the arrangements.
“You will receive the ten million from Roger Cody,” declared Hendrix. “Since you have signed the
receipt, I shall give you the order now. Cody is my representative who will be at the Baltham Trust
Building. He will have the funds in a special box.”
“Excellent,” said Legira. “Now, I shall call my servant, Francisco. He is not at my residence. He left a
few days ago. May I use your telephone?”
“Certainly,” said Hendrix.
While Legira was calling, Hendrix leaned over the desk and began to write the order to Cody. He
inscribed a few paragraphs; then crumpled the paper and threw it away. He began again, and concluded
the work. Legira finished phoning; Hendrix blotted the paper and gave it to the South American.
“Come,” said Hendrix, in a friendly tone. “You will be my guest until quarter past eight. We can have
dinner served here. Let us go into the library. Perhaps you would like to see its unusual arrangements.”
Legira smiled as he accompanied the portly financier. He had good reason to feel elated. His persuasion
had accomplished much to-day.
Legira, as a schemer, felt a marked superiority over Hendrix, whose negotiations were all conducted in a
methodical, open manner. It had been an easy triumph. Hendrix and Jermyn! In Legira's estimation, they
were two simple souls who could not hatch even the ingredients of a conspiracy.
In that, the suave South American was mistaken. For while he and Hendrix were strolling through the
spacious apartment, Jermyn was busy back in the office. The solemn-faced servitor was opening the
crumpled paper that Hendrix had written and then tossed aside.
Instead of an incomplete order to Roger Cody, Jermyn discovered definite instructions.
Communicate with Martin Powell. Tell him to be here by eight fifteen. Important.
Also call Cody. Tell him funds must not be delivered until after nine o'clock. Hold until that time.
Jermyn indulged in a smile as he tossed the paper in the wastebasket. He had heard all that had passed
between Hendrix and Legira. Now, by a simple and effective method, the financier was planning to
frustrate Legira's schemes, should they be false.
Between eight fifteen and nine, Hendrix would confer with Powell. Should the financier and the
investigator decide against Legira, the suave consul from Santander would be balked. One word to
Roger Cody, over the telephone, would end any scheme for possession of the funds.
Yet Hendrix was managing this so artfully that Alvarez Legira could not possibly suspect the doubts
which the financier still maintained!
CHAPTER IX. THE LAST WARNING
DUSK had fallen. Two men stepped into the glare of the street lamp that lighted the front of Alvarez
Legira's residence. One bore the features of Legira. The other was the consul's secretary, Lopez.
Together, the men ascended the brownstone steps and entered the house.
They did not speak as they went up the stairs to the second floor. Perry Wallace, in his part of Alvarez
Legira, had become solemn and taciturn. Lopez, also, indulged in very little conversation. The secretary
seldom became loquacious in English, for he had little occasion to converse in the tongue.
To-night Lopez was suspicious. The empty house annoyed him. Francisco had left a few days before, in
unobtrusive fashion. Now, whenever Lopez entered, he became suspicious. Perry smiled at the sharp
glances which Lopez threw in all directions. They reached the little room on the second floor.
Perry sat down in a large chair, and drew his cigarette holder from his pocket. Lopez grinned.
Unconsciously, the false Alvarez Legira had adopted the habits of the real. Perry smiled, too, for despite
the monotony of his new work, he was enjoying this taste of luxury and pretense.
Lopez looked around the room with sharp eyes. Suddenly, he spied something by the window sill. It was
by a mere chance that he saw a thin green line that disappeared behind the radiator. Like a cat, the
sallow-faced secretary sprang across the room and snatched at the little wire. He pulled it away from the
wall, and his dark eyes flashed with anger as he pulled a knife from his pocket and severed the slender
connection.
Lopez stared at Perry. Legira's substitute returned the gaze in mild surprise. Suspicion and mistrust were
plain on the countenance of Lopez.
“Who has put that there?” he demanded.
“What is it?” asked Perry, trying to see what Lopez was holding.
“A piece of wire!” snarled Lopez. “It must be a telephone—that goes somewhere—outside!”
Perry arose and approached the window. Lopez stepped back suspiciously; then, as he surveyed Perry
closely, he decided that his companion was as surprised as he himself.
“Some one has been listening,” declared Lopez. “They can hear what is said in this place. I do not know
how long it has been here.”
“It doesn't matter,” said Perry. “I don't recall any conversations of importance. You and I have talked
very little, Lopez. Generally when riding in taxicabs, or dining at a hotel.”
“That is true,” admitted Lopez. “Yet this is very bad. It should not be here. It can make much trouble—”
The secretary stopped suddenly as he heard the ring of the doorbell. He motioned to Perry to sit down in
the chair. Then, in stealthy fashion, Lopez went downstairs.
WHEN he returned, a few minutes later, Lopez wore a grave expression. He stared at Perry as though
undecided what to do. Then, leaning cautiously forward, he whispered brief words of instruction.
“This man who is here,” he said, “you must see him. His name is Pete Ballou. You will say but
little—understand? Keep me in this room with you. Be careful and let him make all the talk. Eh, senor?”
Perry nodded. Lopez went downstairs. In a few minutes, he returned with Pete Ballou. Perry looked up
while lighting a cigarette. He nodded a slight greeting to the stocky man.
Ballou took a chair and stared at Perry with steely eyes. Perry met the gaze. He gave no evidence of the
elation which he felt. He knew that Pete Ballou had no suspicion that this was not Alvarez Legira.
Lopez was starting toward the door. Perry called to him, in an easy manner, a perfect affectation of
Legira.
“Ah, Lopez!” The secretary turned at the words. “Perhaps it would be wise for you to stay here.”
Ballou threw a sidelong glance toward Lopez.
“You need him?” he demanded.
“Lopez is my secretary,” said Perry. “When I choose for him to be here, he remains.”
“Have it your own way,” remarked Ballou. “I guess he knows why I'm here, so it doesn't matter if he
sticks around. I've just come to remind you that time is getting short.”
Perry smiled and stared at a cloud of cigarette smoke.
“You've got until to-morrow midnight,” continued Ballou. “Savvy?”
“It is kind of you,” remarked Perry. “Very kind of you to come here to remind me.”
“Look here, Legira,” said Ballou, in a bulldozing tone, “there's been enough of this funny business. We
know that the deal has gone through. You've had plenty of time to get the dough. If you stall any longer, it
will be curtains for you.”
He paused, as though expecting a reply, but he received none. Ballou drew a sheet of paper from his
pocket and scrawled a few words upon it.
“There's where you can reach me,” he declared. “You've got to-morrow to get busy. If you let this slide,
we'll get you. There's no way out, Legira!”
Perry read the paper, folded it, and thrust it nonchalantly in his vest pocket. He leaned back in his chair
and stared thoughtfully beyond his visitor. Again, Ballou waited; still, Perry offered no comment.
“The terms still hold,” asserted Ballou. “Fifty-fifty is the deal. If you don't come across with the half we
want, we're going to take it all! That's final!”
“Very interesting,” observed Perry.
“You'll find it interesting!” declared Ballou. “I'm working for a man who knows plenty. We've got things
fixed down in Santander, and you don't have a chance. I'm telling you plenty, Legira.
“We know what you're figuring to do. Three boats sail within the next four days. You're out to dodge us
by shipping the dough on one of them. Maybe you figure you're going yourself. Well, all those boats are
covered. Get me?”
Perry smiled as he had seen Legira smile. Ballou waited with challenging attitude. When he realized that
nothing more was to be said, Ballou arose and started toward the door. He paused long enough to
deliver his final threat.
“You're phony, Legira,” he said. “You're pulling a big bluff. We know you too well. You're too smart to
let any one handle that money besides yourself. We've got you boxed.
“If you think you're crimping us, you're wrong. You're only crimping yourself. Fifty-fifty—that's your one
chance. If you try to get all, or if you stall so long that you won't get any, it will be curtains for you. Unless
we get our half, we're going to blow you off the map. To-morrow at midnight! That's the dead line!”
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