Campeador, bound for Teneriffe, rolled with a languid swing across the shining swell. Her slanted masts and yellow funnel flashed; her boats and deck were dazzling white, and Kit, coming out of his dark office, looked about him with half-shut eyes. When he joined the correillo he had not expected to find the Spanish crew kept her clean, but she was as smart as an English mail-boat, and Kit admitted that some of his British prejudices were not altogether justified. Now, however, she was not steaming at her proper speed. The throb of engines harmonised in a measured rhythm with the roar at the bows, but the beat was slow. Kit turned and saw Macallister watching him with a grin.

"Ye look glum," said the engineer.

"It's possible. We are late again, and I don't see how I'm to finish my business at Santa Cruz before we start for Orotava. Have your muleteer firemen got too much rum? Or did you forget to chalk the clock?"

Macallister smiled. "Ye're hipped. I'm thinking Olivia wasna kind; but ye have not much notion o' amusing a bonny lass. They're no' all satisfied to be looked at. Man, when I was young – But ye needna tell me ye didna go til Mrs. Austin's. I saw ye, stealing off, with your new silk belt and your shoes fresh chalked."

"Miss Brown has nothing to do with the boat's arriving late."

"I mind a trip when her sister had much to do with our arriving verra late indeed. Gascoyne, Mrs. Jefferson's father, was on board, going to stop the wedding, and Jacinta gave me a bit hint, but that's anither tale. The trouble is, when ye're short o' fuel ye cannot keep steam. I allood I kenned a' the tricks o' the coaling trade, but a lad with the looks and voice o' a cherub let me down two hundred-weight a ton. Weel, I might have kenned, after the innocent set on Juan to hold me so I couldna win the swimming match."

"You're near the limit, Mack," Kit remarked and went off.

He was disturbed, but Campeador's slowness did not account for all. Before she sailed a letter arrived from his mother, who stated in a postscript that Betty did not look well. The girl felt the cold of an unusually bleak spring and worked too hard. Mrs. Musgrave understood the doctor thought she ought to go South, but Betty, of course, could not.

Kit walked up and down the deck and pondered. Betty had refused him and he had resigned himself to let her go. In fact, he had begun to think he had not really loved her much. Now, however, to know she was ill, hurt. He wanted to help, but it was impossible.

Then he remembered that Mrs. Austin and Mrs. Jefferson were on board. Perhaps he ought to see if they were comfortable; besides, to talk to them might banish his moodiness. He found them sitting to lee of the deck-house, and leaned against the rail opposite. Beneath him, in the moving shadow of the ship, the water was a wonderful blue; farther back, the long undulations, touched here and there by white, melted into the shining plain of the Atlantic. In the distance, Teneriffe's high range was streaked by silver mist, from which projected a glittering cone.

Mrs. Austin held a book and rings sparkled on her hand. Mrs. Austin was fond of rings. Kit knew she was the daughter of a merchant who began his business career by selling sailors cheap tobacco, but he thought her like an old French marquise; a marquise with a salon where plots were made.

Mrs. Jefferson was not like that. She was not fashionable and one felt her gentle calm. Somehow Kit knew the calm was inherited; one could not altogether get it by cultivation. She had quiet eyes, her sympathetic voice moved him. Now and then he was rather afraid of Mrs. Austin; he loved Mrs. Jefferson. He owned it strange he should enjoy the society of ladies like these.

In the meantime, Mrs. Austin studied Kit. Although he was very raw when he arrived, he was, so to speak, toning down. She had taught him something. Mrs. Austin had educated a number of raw young men, but since it looked as if Olivia were interested in his progress, she wondered whether she was rash to meddle with Kit. For one thing, he was rather handsome; he carried himself well, and his figure was good. He was honest, and his frank look had some charm. Then he had begun to choose his clothes properly; Mrs. Austin admitted she had given him some hints. Now, however, he was obviously disturbed and she had grounds for curiosity. She knew she could persuade him to give her his confidence and she did so with a cleverness Kit did not note. By and by he gave her impulsively his mother's letter.

"I'm bothered about the thing," he said.

Mrs. Austin passed on the letter to Mrs. Jefferson. On the whole, she was conscious of some satisfaction, because she thought Mrs. Musgrave's use of the postscript significant.

"One doesn't like to hear one's relations are ill," she remarked in a sympathetic voice.

For a moment or two Kit hesitated. Mrs. Austin was Olivia's sister and he had not meant to talk about Betty. Sometimes he did talk when he ought to be quiet.

"Betty is not a relation, but I'm bothered about her being ill," he said and indicated the snowy peak, silver mist and shining Atlantic. "I feel shabby, as if the thing's not just. You see, I've got so much and Betty, who needs all I've got more, is shivering in the cold. You don't know Liverpool when the east winds blow in spring."

"I know other English, and some American, towns in winter," said Mrs. Jefferson. "When my husband found I could not stand the cold, he brought me back to the Canaries. I think I can sympathise with Betty."

"Not altogether," Kit rejoined. "When you are tired, you can rest; Betty can't. You have not to go to an office at nine o'clock, knowing that if you're ill for a week or two you may lose your job. You are not forced to stop until nine o'clock in the evening, without extra pay, when trade is good."

"Are office girls paid nothing extra for extra work?"

"All I know are not," said Kit. "Perhaps five pounds at Christmas, if the house is remarkably prosperous; but I don't think Betty minded this. You feel the dreariness most; the poor food you eat in the middle of a crowd; the fight for the tram-cars when it rains, and the long walk through muddy streets when you can't get on board. I expect a girl hates to sit all day in wet clothes. Besides, it isn't good. Then Betty's office is dark, and she writes entries in a book until her eyes ache. The thing's, so to speak, hopeless. You feel you've got to go on like that for ever – "

He paused and his look was very gentle when he resumed: "Betty bore it cheerfully. She has pluck, but I knew she was tired, and now she's ill!"

"Was she going to marry you?" Mrs. Austin asked.

"No," said Kit, blushing like a girl. "When I got my post I wanted her to promise she would marry me when I came back, but she refused."

"This was just before you sailed?" Mrs. Austin remarked thoughtfully.

"Of course. Until Don Arturo sent for me, I knew it might be long before I could support a wife. Betty knew, but she went about with me. Sometimes we went to small concerts and sometimes, on Saturday afternoons, across the river. On the Cheshire side you can get away from the streets. There's a wood one can reach from a station, and primroses and hyacinths grow in the dead leaves. Betty was happy among the flowers; she loves things like that. She used to watch the thin birch sprays swing across the white trunks. I didn't know they were birches until she told me, but I sometimes thought her eyes were like the hyacinths. However, I've talked a lot and I'm boring you."

"We are not bored," said Mrs. Jefferson, and Mrs. Austin mused.

Kit's voice was very gentle; it looked as if he had not known passion, and Mrs. Austin thought Betty had qualities. One could picture a girl whose life was dreary using all her charm to get a lover; but Betty obviously had not. She had refused Kit, although nothing he had said indicated that she was calculating and ambitious. Well, one sometimes met a girl whose thought was not for herself.

"After all, a sobrecargo's pay on board the correillo is not large," she said.

"That is so," Kit agreed. "But one has so much besides; the sea, the sunshine, friends I could not have got at Liverpool. One feels confident; there are better jobs, and perhaps one is not forced to be poor always. Anyhow, Betty didn't bother about the pay; she can go without things, but when I tried to persuade her she was firm. Well, I think it's done with, she won't marry me. All the same, if I could bring her out to rest and get strong in the sun – "

He stopped, with some embarrassment, and resumed: "I have bored you and must get the captain to sign the manifests."

He went off and Mrs. Austin looked at Mrs. Jefferson.

"Well?" she said.

"I like him," said Mrs. Jefferson. "I think I'd like the girl. One feels he drew her better than he knew."

"Yet he's not her lover."

"He doesn't know he is her lover, but it's important that when he thinks about her being ill he's strongly moved. To know she might get well here but he can't help, hurts. I'm sorry she can't come."

"I don't know that it's impossible," Mrs. Austin replied.

Mrs. Jefferson gave her a thoughtful glance. Jacinta was generous and often helped people, but Mrs. Jefferson imagined she had an object now.

"You don't know her and I expect she's independent."

"For all that, I don't imagine she would refuse a good post, and a post where the work is light might be got. We'll talk about it again."

When Campeador arrived at Santa Cruz, Mrs. Austin and Mrs. Jefferson drove across the island to Orotava and Kit went round with the ship. Orotava is open to the Atlantic and landing is sometimes awkward, but onions were cheap and the company had engaged to load a barque for Cuba. Kit sent off a quantity on board the cargo launches and then went to the agent's office to pay for the goods. In Spanish countries, business is not transacted with much speed and when he started for the harbour it was dark. He wore deck-shoes and thin white clothes, and his pockets bulged with documents. At the marina he met Mrs. Austin, Olivia, and Jefferson.

"We came down after dinner to see the surf; it's rather grand to-night," Olivia remarked. "I suppose you are going on board?"

Kit said he was going. He carried the ship's papers, and she could not sail until he arrived. Then he asked Jefferson: "Have you seen my boat?"

"They ran her up when the sea began to break. I reckon you'll have some trouble to get off."

This was obvious. At Orotava the surf is not quiet long, and while Kit was engaged at the agent's the rollers had got high and steep. For a moment or two he looked up the famous horseshoe valley. Mist floated about the shoulders of the giant Peak, but the mist was still, and lights high up on the shadowy slopes did not twinkle. The illumination about the big hotel on the cliff was steady. One got no hint of wind; the night was calm and hot. For all that, the Atlantic was disturbed, and the crash of breakers rolled about the little town. The air throbbed with the measured roar.

Kit looked seawards. Two short moles enclosed a break in the lava rocks, but their ends were lost in phosphorescent foam, and a white turmoil marked the gap between. Now and then most part of a wall vanished and a yeasty flood ran far up the beach. Kit saw a group of indistinct figures standing about a boat and left the party.

"Can one get a boat off?" Mrs. Austin asked Jefferson.

"It's risky. Musgrave means to try. The danger spot is where the rollers break on the shallows at the harbour mouth. Beyond that, they're smooth."

After a few minutes Kit returned and Jefferson said, "Well?"

Kit laughed. "They're not keen about going, but the promise of a bottle of caña carries some weight and old Miguel is a useful man at the steering oar. Anyhow, I've got to try. Keeping up steam costs something, and a barque at Palma waits for the onions."

"D'you reckon a sobrecargo's pay covers the risk?" Jefferson asked.

They stood near a lighted wine shop and Kit gave him a puzzled look. "Perhaps we ought to get paid for an extra awkward job, but in a sense, the pay has nothing to do with it. When you sign on, you engage to do what's required. But you ought to see – "

Jefferson saw and his eyes twinkled. Kit was embarrassed, because he had remembered the others and thought he was talking like a prig. All the same, the young fellow was staunch.

"Miguel will come to the steps for me," Kit resumed, and they went with him along the wall. A quarter of a mile off, the correillo's lights tossed in the dark.

The boat was a thirty-foot cargo launch, rowed double banked by sturdy fishermen, but swinging about on the white turmoil, she looked small. Sometime when a thundering roller broke across the mole she vanished. To get on board was awkward, but when she stopped opposite some steps Kit ran forward and stood, stiffly posed, at the top.

"Ahora, señor!" somebody shouted.

Kit jumped. The others saw his white figure plunge and vanish. A crash, half drowned by the roar of the sea, indicated that he had got on board, and the boat went out on the backwash that rolled down the harbour like an angry flood. There was no moon, but one could see her dark hull against the phosphorescent foam. The men were pulling hard; their bodies swung and fiery splashes marked the big oars' path. At the mouth of the harbour she lurched up, almost perpendicular, over a white sea, plunged, and melted into the dark.

"They have got out," said Olivia. "It was very well done!"

"Then we'll go back to the hotel," Mrs. Austin remarked, rather coolly. "You are wearing your dinner dress and the spray is thick!"

"I'm not going yet," Olivia declared.

Mrs. Austin knew her sister and waited, although she was annoyed. One could not blame Kit for doing what he ought, but the thing was unlucky. After a minute or two, Jefferson jumped on a lava block and Olivia cried out. Just outside the harbour a long dark object rolled about in the foam. The object was like a boat, but it was obviously not the proper side up.

"She may clear the head of the mole," said Jefferson, and he and Olivia plunged into the spray.

Mrs. Austin hesitated and was too late. A sea washed across the wall, the others had vanished, and she durst not go alone. Men began to run about and she saw the boat was coming back extraordinarily fast. She was upside down, but two or three white objects clung to her, and swimmers' heads dotted the frothing surge that carried her along. Jefferson and Olivia ran back and Mrs. Austin went with them to the beach. The boat struck the lava and was pulled up. A group of dripping men pushed through the crowd and Jefferson stopped the patron.

"Have you all got back?" he asked.

"All but Señor Musgrave," said the other, "We held on to the boat; he went on."

"He went on!" Olivia broke in. "Do you mean swimming? Where did he go?"

"To the ship, señorita. He shouted he must get on board."

The man went off and Jefferson remarked: "I reckon Musgrave will make it. The surf-belt's narrow and there's nothing to bother him after he gets through. If he'd come back, he might have washed past the harbour and hit the rocks. I'll wait at the agent's office and see if the correillo starts."

"I'll stop with you," said Olivia firmly.

They waited for half an hour and then Campeador's whistle pierced the roar of the surf. Her lights began to move and Jefferson said, "She's steaming off. Musgrave has made it!"

Olivia thrilled, but said nothing. Mrs. Austin said they had better go back to the hotel and pondered while they climbed the steep path to the cliff. Kit had tried to get on board because he thought he must; he had not, consciously, wanted to persuade Olivia he had pluck. All the same, he had done a bold thing, with an object that justified his rashness, and Olivia had seen the risk he ran. Mrs. Austin however was rather sorry she had suggested their going to the mole.

CHAPTER X
MRS. AUSTIN MAKES SOME PLANS

Mrs. Austin's veranda was not as crowded as usual. For one thing, a steamer that touched at Las Palmas regularly had arrived from the Argentine and her captain was giving a ball, to which Mrs. Austin had resolved she would not go. Captain Farquhar's friends were numerous but rather mixed; his feasts were not marked by the strict observance of conventional rules, and at Las Palmas Jacinta Austin was something of a great lady. When Kit came up the steps she gave him a gracious smile.

"I'm flattered because you have not, like the others, deserted me," she said.

"You are kind to hint you would note if I came or not," Kit replied. "However, I must own I don't dance."

"Then, if you did dance, you would have gone to Captain Farquhar's ball?"

Kit smiled. "I think not. To begin with, I'd sooner come here, and I went on board Carsegarry when she called on her outward run. Captain Farquhar's kind, but I had enough. In another sense, so had Macallister and Don Erminio."

"You would be nicer if you knew where to stop," Mrs. Austin remarked.

"If you'll let me stop now for half an hour, I'll be satisfied," said Kit.

"Satisfied?" said Mrs. Austin. "Oh, well, I know you're frank. Frankness has advantages, but perhaps it's not always necessary."

She noted that his glance wandered to Olivia, and she began to talk about something else. He was not going to join Olivia, but while she talked she studied Kit. He was an honest, sober young fellow, and had recently begun to make allowances for others, and had learned to laugh. In the meantime, however, she thought his laugh was forced.

"If you are not amused, you needn't make an effort to be polite," she said. "When you arrived I knew you were moody."

"Then I'm duller than I thought," Kit rejoined. "You oughtn't to have known. On your veranda one's bothers vanish."

"Why were you bothered?"

"I got another letter and Betty's worse," said Kit. "My mother states she has been warned she must give up her post. Her work's too hard; she must get the sun and fresh air. I feel I ought to help, but it's impossible. Thinking about this, I've begun to see my job on board the correillo leads nowhere. Perhaps they'll let me stop when my engagement's up, but there's no promotion."

Mrs. Austin knew the Spanish manager was satisfied and meant him to stop.

"All the same, you like your job?" she said.

"For the most part, but one gets some jars. Recently we have been buying onions. A ship is going to Cuba, the freight is low, and Havana merchants give a good price for onions, but the peons who grow them in the mountains know nothing about this. They have got a big crop that nobody wants to buy and the price has fallen to a very small sum. The poor folks are a remarkably frugal, industrious lot."

"I don't know a country with finer peasants," Mrs. Austin agreed. "Still, if they're willing to sell you the onions, why should you not buy?"

"We are buying too cheap."

Mrs. Austin turned to Jefferson. "Mr. Musgrave puzzles me. He grumbles because he's buying onions too cheap."

"Let him state his case," said Jefferson.

"I'll try. Our plan's like this," said Kit. "At daybreak Campeador steams up to a beach from which cargo can be shipped. Don Erminio and I get horses and go off to the hills, where nobody knows about the steamer. Don Erminio stops at a village wine shop and plays the guitar while I talk to the peons. They're an unsophisticated lot with the manners of fine gentlemen, and live on maize, bananas, and goat's milk cheese. Yet, for all their poverty, I must eat membrillo jelly and drink a cup of wine before we get to business. They have stacks of onions, and at Havana onions are short, but the peons don't know and my job's to buy their crop very cheap. The worst is, the fellows are grateful and try to make us a feast. If they got half the sum their goods are worth, they'd be rich. It's rather like robbing a trustful child."

"I am a merchant's daughter and doubt if I ought to sympathise," said Mrs. Austin. "To buy at the lowest price the seller will take is a sound business plan. Were you not a business man at Liverpool?"

"At Liverpool nobody I knew made a profit of a hundred per cent," Kit rejoined. "The thing's not honest; besides, one feels it's not sound."

Jefferson laughed. "On the whole, I reckon Musgrave's justified. You can fool people once or twice; you can't fool them all the time. When they find you out, they charge you double or sell to another."

Kit looked at Olivia. She was talking to two or three young men and the position of their chairs would make it awkward for him to join the group. Moreover, he imagined Mrs. Austin had not meant him to do so. By and by he looked at his watch.

"I must go. It's later than I thought, and I've got to stop at the Carsegarry."

"You said you were not going to the ball."

"I'm not going to dance. We sail at ten o'clock and I must get Macallister and Don Erminio on board."

"Then I allow you have undertaken something of a job," Jefferson remarked.

"That is so," Kit agreed. "The last time I went for them I got rather damaged and they tore my clothes. Don Erminio's excitable and Macallister is big. All the same, somebody must go. Don Ramon at the office is patient, but I've known him firm. After all, he's accountable, and we carry the Spanish mail."

He went off and Mrs. Austin laughed. "Kit's naïve, but I like him. He's a good sort."

Olivia sent off the young men and stopped for a moment by her sister's chair.

"Kit Musgrave is a very good sort, but his luck is to get a knock-about part."

"One's luck turns," said Jefferson. "If Musgrave gets another part, I reckon he'll play up."

Olivia went into the house and Mrs. Austin said to Jefferson: "If Harry has finished his writing, bring him to me."

When Jefferson went for Austin she knitted her brows. Kit was obviously attracted by Olivia and Mrs. Austin did not approve, although in other ways she meant to be his friend. She had married a poor man, and rousing him to use his talent, had helped him to get rich; but she doubted if Kit had much talent. Moreover, she had qualities Olivia had not, and Kit was not like Harry.

Mrs. Austin did not know about Olivia. She thought her sister saw Kit's drawbacks, but the tourists only stopped for a few months in the winter, and for the most part, the coaling and banana men were dull. In fact, Mrs. Austin resolved to run no risk.

When Jefferson returned with Austin she said, "You work too long, Harry. You began this morning as soon as you got up."

"I'm forced to work," Austin replied. "Since Jake and I started the African business I'm pretty closely occupied. For one thing, he won't write the English letters, and my Spanish clerks can't."

"Viñoles speaks good English."

"That is so," Austin said with a smile. "You speak good Castilian, but to write a foreign language is another thing. In fact, I remember a note of yours that embarrassed a sober Spanish gentleman. Anyhow, Viñoles' method of addressing an English merchant house is, Señor Don Bought of Thomas Dash."

"What about engaging an English clerk?"

Austin shook his head. "The experiment's risky. When the pay's not large, you must get them young and don't know your luck until they arrive. Some come out for adventure – I imagine these are worst – and some come to loaf. If Musgrave wanted another job, I might engage him."

"I think not," said Mrs. Austin firmly. "Why not try an English business girl? She wouldn't lose her pay at the casino and borrow from you. She wouldn't make disturbances at cock-fights."

"It might work," Austin replied. "In fact, I begin to see where I'm being gently led. I expect you know a candidate, but she mustn't be pretty. Modern business has nothing to do with romance."

"The girl I thought about is a friend of Musgrave's."

"Ah!" said Austin, with a twinkle, "the plot thickens!"

"Now you're ridiculous!" Mrs. Austin rejoined. "Anyhow, my plan has some advantages."

She indicated the advantages and enlarged upon Betty's business talents, about which Kit had not said much. When Mrs. Austin felt her cause was good she was not fastidious. Moreover, she knew her husband and Jefferson, and felt she was on firm ground when she drew a moving picture of Betty's struggle against failing health and poverty. It counted for much that Muriel Jefferson could not stand the winter in the North. When she stopped Jefferson glanced at Austin.

"Perhaps we might risk it. Muriel would look after the girl."

Austin agreed and Mrs. Austin let them go. Her plans had worked, but she was not altogether selfish. She liked to help people and thought Betty needed help. In the meantime, however, Kit must not know; she would write to Mrs. Musgrave, for when Kit gave her the letter she had noted where his mother lived. Mrs. Austin's habit was to note things like that. So far, the scheme went well, but she had not gone far enough. After all, Betty had refused Kit and the correillo stopped at Las Palmas for three or four days every two weeks. Betty would be occupied by her business duties, but Olivia had none. Mrs. Austin admitted that her supposition about the girl's grounds for refusing Kit might not be accurate, and imagined a longer voyage for Kit was indicated. By and by Wolf entered the veranda and she saw a plan. Yet she hesitated. She had no logical grounds for doubting Wolf, but she did doubt him.

"Mr. Scot, whom you sent home after his injury, has not come back," she said presently.

Wolf said he did not think Scot would come back, and waited.

"Are you not embarrassed without him?"

"To some extent," Wolf replied. "I can't, however, go to England, and to engage a young man you haven't seen is risky. Then I don't know a coaling clerk I'd care to hire."

"But you do want help?"

Wolf agreed and Mrs. Austin looked thoughtful.

"Perhaps it's lucky, because I'd like to get Mr. Musgrave a good post. I expect you know I'm a meddler and managing people's affairs is my habit."

"I know you are kind and a number of people owe you much," Wolf replied.

Mrs. Austin gave him a gracious smile. "Well, I really think Mr. Musgrave is the man you want. He's honest and resolute, and although I don't know if he's very clever, he's not a fool."

Wolf thought his luck was good. He did want a resolute young man, but did not want him clever, and had for some time thought about Kit. Then he had an object for satisfying Mrs. Austin, who did not disown her debts.

"Well," he said, "I imagine I could give Musgrave a post he'd be willing to take. In fact, when my schooner comes back from Africa I'll probably send for him – "

He stopped and Mrs. Austin waited with quiet amusement. She knew Wolf did nothing for nothing.

"Señor Ramirez arrived from Madrid a few days since," he resumed. "I understand Don Arturo comes from Liverpool by the next boat. I would like to meet them."

"But this ought not to be difficult."

"In a way, not at all difficult. One can go to a public function and, if one is lucky, talk for a few minutes to the honoured guest, who forgets one immediately afterwards. There is not much use in this; but to meet an important man at a friend's house is another thing."

Mrs. Austin pondered. Ramirez was a Spanish officer of high rank and came to the Canaries now and then on the government's business. Don Arturo had invested much money in the islands and West Africa. Austin knew both gentlemen and Wolf wanted to meet them at her house. It looked as if he knew Ramirez was going to dine with Austin. On the whole, Mrs. Austin did not want to indulge him, and imagined Austin would not approve. Yet Wolf had promised to give Kit a post.

"Why do you want to meet Señor Ramirez?" she asked.

"I rather think it's obvious. The Spaniards are jealous about the Rio de Oro belt, and I am a foreigner. There are rules about trading with the Berbers that stand in my way. A quiet talk to Ramirez might help me much, and I imagine he would be interested."

Jacinta saw something must be risked, and after all Ramirez knew men. He would not take Wolf's honesty for granted because he was her friend.

"Very well," she said. "Señor Ramirez will dine with us one evening, and I will tell you when the time is fixed. I don't know about Don Arturo yet."

"You are very kind," said Wolf. "I had meant to send for Musgrave, but now I feel I must use an extra effort to give him a good post."

He went off and soon afterwards Mrs. Austin told Austin, who frowned.

"I don't know if I altogether approved the fellow's coming to the veranda, but this didn't imply much; his coming to dinner does."

"He promised he'd give Kit a post," Mrs. Austin replied.

Austin looked at her rather hard.

"You might have helped Musgrave at a cheaper cost. However, one doesn't cheat Ramirez easily and so long as you are satisfied – "

"Do you imagine Wolf will try to cheat him?"

"It's possible," said Austin dryly.

Mrs. Austin laughed. "Anyhow, Ramirez is just and won't make you accountable. Besides, if he is cheated, Wolf is cleverer than I think."