Part 33 (1/2)

”Not much hurt, I think,” he gasped; ”but it was a close touch--a sort of farewell keepsake,” he said with a faint attempt to smile.

It was, indeed, a narrow escape, for the ball had ploughed one of his cheeks so that it bled profusely, and I could have freely returned the shot in the rage which I felt.

Perhaps it would have been better for all parties had I fired, for it would only have been disabling as black-hearted a scoundrel as ever breathed. But my plans were made, and by an effort I kept to them, just as the notary was about to flee in alarm.

”Loose him, Tom,” I said; and Garcia started up, foaming almost at the mouth. ”Keep back there,” I cried, ”and do not let me see one of those hands move towards breast or pocket. The instant I detect any such act I fire.”

Garcia stood scowling for a few moments but not meeting my eye, and I continued addressing the notary:

”Give me full particulars of this amount, and I will pay it.”

”You, Harry--you!” exclaimed my uncle.

”You!--you vile impostor! You beggar and vagabond! You do not possess an onza of gold,” roared Garcia, bursting forth into a fit of vituperation. ”Don't listen to him; don't heed him; it's a trick--a plan. I take possession. The money was to be paid this morning, and it is not paid, so I seize the plantation.”

”You are the business man,” I said coolly to the notary--with that coolness that the possession of money gives--”this is a mining country, and gold in ounces should be current.”

”The best of currency, senor,” said the notary with a smile and a bow.

”Tell me the amount, then, in ounces,” I said, ”and I will pay you.”

”Don Xeres,” gasped Garcia, almost beside himself with rage, ”I will take no promises to pay.”

The old notary shrugged his shoulders.

”But, Senor Garcia, there are no promises to pay. I understand the English senor to say that he will pay--at once! Am I not right, senor?”

”Quite,” I said. ”Uncle, I will lend you this amount.”

”But, Harry, my dear boy, you are mad! You have no idea of the extent.”

”Two hundred and five ounces would equal the amount in _pesos d'oro_ which Senor Landell is indebted,” said the notary quietly.

”Good!” I said. ”Then will you have proper balances brought? Uncle, see to the return of your papers.”

”I am in the hands of Senor Xeres,” said my uncle in a bewildered tone.

”He will see justice done.”

The old notary bowed and smiled, while I crossed to where my leather case stood upon a side-table, brought it to my chair, and then seated myself, slowly unbuckling the straps and unlocking it while the balances were brought, when I drew out six of the little yellow bar ingots and pa.s.sed them over to the notary, who was the banker of the district as well.

He took them, turned them over, wiped his gla.s.ses, and replaced them; then examined each bar again.

”Pure metal, I think, senor?” I said, smiling.

”The purest, Senor Inglese,” he replied with another bow.

Then, placing the ingots in the balances, he recorded each one's weight as he went on, to find them, with a few grains variation more or less, six ounces each.

Five times, to Garcia's astonishment and rage, did I bring from the case in my lap six of the golden bars, the notary the while testing and weighing them one by one in the coolest and most business-like way imaginable. Then his spectacles were directed inquiringly at me, and I brought out four more, which were duly weighed and placed with the others. Then again were the spectacles directed at me.