From his breast pocket he drew and passed over three certified checks that totaled eighteen hundred thousand dollars. Bascom shook his head sadly.
“Too late,” he said. “That’s only a drop in the bucket. Put them back in your pocket. It would be only throwing them away.”
“But wait,” Charley Tippery cried, taking the suit-case from his singing companion and proceeding to open it. “Maybe that will help.”
“That” consisted of a great mass of orderly bundles of gold bonds and gilt edge securities.
“How much is it?” Bascom gasped, his courage springing up like wild-fire.
But Francis, overcome by the sight of such plethora of ammunition, ceased singing to gasp. And both he and Bascom gasped again when Henry drew from his inside pocket a bundle of a dozen certified checks. They could only stare at the prodigious sum, for each was written for a million dollars.
“And plenty more where that came from,” Henry announced airily. “All you have to do is say the word, Francis, and we’ll knock this bear gang to smithereens. Now suppose you get busy. The rumors are around everywhere that you’re gone and done for. Pitch in and show them, that’s all. Bust every last one of them that jumped you. Shake ‘m down to their gold watches and the fillings out of their teeth.”
“You found old Sir Henry’s treasure after all,” Francis congratulated.
“No,” Henry shook his head. “That represents part of the old Maya treasure——about a third of it. We’ve got another third down with Enrico Solano, and the last third’s safe right here in the Jewelers and Traders’ National Bank.—Say, I’ve got news for you when you’re ready to listen.”
And Francis was quickly ready. Bascom knew even better than he what was to be done, and was already giving his orders to his staff over the telephone—buying orders of such prodigious size that all of Regan’s fortune would not enable him to deliver what he had sold short.
“Torres is dead,” Henry told him.
“Hurrah!” was Francis’ way of receiving it.
“Died like a rat in a trap. I saw his head sticking out. It wasn’t pretty. And the Jefe’s dead. And ... and somebody else is dead——”
“Not Leoncia!” Francis cried out.
Henry shook his head.
“Some one of the Solanos——old Enrico?”
“No; your wife, Mrs. Morgan. Torres shot her, deliberately shot her. I was beside her when she fell. Now hold on, I’ve got other news. Leoncia’s right there in that other office, and she’s waiting for you to come to her.—Can’t you wait till I’m through? I’ve got more news that will give you the right steer before you go in to her. Why, hell’s bells, if I were a certain Chinaman that I know, I’d make you pay me a million for all the information I’m giving you for nothing.”
“Shoot——what is it?” Francis demanded impatiently.
“Good news, of course, unadulterated good news. Best news you ever heard. I—now don’t laugh, or knock my block off——for the good news is that I’ve got a sister.”
“What of it?” was Francis’ brusque response. “I always knew you had sisters in England.”
“But you don’t get me,” Henry dragged on. “This is a perfectly brand new sister, all grown up, and the most beautiful woman you ever laid eyes on.”
“And what of it?” growled Francis. “That may be good news for you, but I don’t see how it affects me.”
“Ah, now we’re coming to it,” Henry grinned. “You’re going to marry her. I give you my full permission——”
“Not if she were ten times your sister, nor if she were ten times as beautiful,” Francis broke in. “The woman doesn’t exist I’d marry.”
“Just the same, Francis boy, you’re going to marry this one. I know it. I feel it in my bones. I’d bet on it.”
“I’ll bet you a thousand I don’t.”
“Aw, go on and make it a real bet,” Henry drawled.
“Any amount you want.”
“Done, then, for a thousand and fifty dollars.—Now go right into the office there and take a look at her.”
“She’s with Leoncia?”
“Nope; she’s by herself.”
“I thought you said Leoncia was in there.”
“So I did, so I did. And so Leoncia is in there. And she isn’t with another soul, and she’s waiting to talk with you.”
By this time Francis was growing peevish.
“What are you stringing me for?” he demanded. “I can’t make head nor tale of your foolery. One moment it’s your brand new sister in there, and the next moment it’s your wife.”
“Who said I ever had a wife?” Henry came back.
“I give up!” Francis cried. “I’m going on in and see Leoncia. I’ll talk with you later on when you’re back in your right mind.”
He started for the door, but was stopped by Henry.
“Just a second more, Francis, and I’m done,” he said. “I want to give you that steer. I am not married. There is only one woman waiting for you in there. That one woman is my sister. Also is she Leoncia.”
It required a dazed half minute for Francis to get it clearly into his head. Again, and in a rush, he was starting for the door, when Henry stopped him.
