“Yes, he lacked the polish which the city gives to a man. I suppose his life in the various wildernesses he has visited has not been conducive to the acquirement of the art of politeness. Still, as you say, there is no lack of mining engineers in London, and doubtless, when the time comes that I need one, I shall find a suitable man for the vacancy.” “I shall be very glad to help you in the selection, my lord, if you care to consult me.” “Thanks, I’ll remember that. I take it with regard to this charter that I have to sign something, haven’t I, although I suppose I shouldn’t sign until my solicitors are consulted; still, I feel quite safe in your hands, Mr. Schwartzbrod, and if you will send me the document, and mark with a lead pencil where my signature is to go, I shall attend to it.” “I have brought the papers with me, my lord,” said the financier eagerly, extracting them from his pocket. “Could you also oblige me with a fountain pen? Ah, thanks. You go about fully equipped for business, Mr. Schwartzbrod. That’s what it is to be a methodical man.” His lordship cleared a little space on the table, and wrote his name at the bottom of two documents, which, however, he took the precaution to read with some care before attaching his autograph to them, in spite of his disclaimer that he understood nothing about these things. He complained languidly of the obscure nature of the papers, and said it was no wonder lawyers were so much needed to elucidate them. Schwartzbrod put the papers in his pocket with a satisfaction he could scarcely conceal, then, standing up, he buttoned his coat, ever so much more alert than the weary young man, half his age, who stood up from his writing as if the exertion had almost exhausted him. He, however, made a quiet, casual remark in parting that suddenly electrified the room and made his guest shiver and turn pale. “When did you say you expected the _Rajah_ from Lisbon, Mr. Schwartzbrod?” For a few moments there was intense stillness. Stranleigh was lighting another cigar, and did not look up at the terror-stricken man, whose bulging eyes were filled with fear. “Lisbon--Lisbon?” he gasped, trying to secure control of his features. “I--I never mentioned Lisbon.” “Oh, yes, you did. You said she was at some point south of Lisbon, didn’t you?” “I said Buenos Ayres.” Stranleigh made a gesture of impatience as if he were annoyed with himself. “Why, of course you said Buenos Ayres. How stupid of me. I am always mixing these foreign places up. I suppose it is because the Argentine Republic is one of those former Spanish possessions, and Lisbon being in Spain, I confused the two.” “Lisbon is in Portugal, my lord; the capital of Portugal.” “You are right. It was Madrid I was thinking of Madrid is in Spain, isn’t it?” “Yes, my lord.” “And it isn’t a port, either?” “No, my lord.” “And is Lisbon on the sea?” “On the river Tagus, my lord.”