“They suspect already!” hissed Legira. “Stay here, Lopez. Listen, from behind the closet door. You
understand?”
Lopez nodded and hurried to the hiding place. Alvarez Legira looked about him nervously. Then, with a
sudden shrug of his shoulder, he calmly resumed his chair and lighted a fresh cigarette.
He was staring reflectively at a cloud of tobacco smoke when the footsteps of two men sounded from the
stairs.
CHAPTER IV. THE SHADOW SEEKS
FRANCISCO entered the room where Alvarez Legira was seated. He stood aside to allow another man
to enter. Legira looked up placidly toward his visitor.
The arrival was a man of middle height, stocky in build, and well dressed. His countenance was puzzling.
It gave the appearance of frankness, despite the fact that the blue eyes had a steely glint.
Only the lips of the smooth-shaven face carried a warning to those who might observe them closely.
Those lips were smiling, as in greeting, but the corners carried a peculiar twist that belied the expression
of friendliness.
Pete Ballou was shrewd, but disarming. In this, he formed a marked contrast to Alvarez Legira, whose
sallow face, thin lips, and pointed mustache denoted an intriguing nature.
Ballou, not waiting for Legira's welcome, sat in the chair which Lopez had vacated. Francisco, at a sign
from his master, walked from the room and went downstairs.
Legira surveyed his visitor with a steadfast stare. The South American gave no sign that might have
indicated either interest or curiosity regarding his visitor's purpose here. Ballou's smile hardened on his
lips. A short, gruff laugh betrayed his true nature.
“You want me to talk first?” he questioned.
Legira shrugged his shoulders, almost imperceptibly.
“All right,” declared Ballou. “I'll talk. What's more, I'll make it quick. I'm going to put it straight from the
shoulder. I'm here to talk about the ten million you swung to-night.”
“Ten million?”
Legira's smooth, purring tone indicated a curious interest, as though he wondered to what the words “ten
million” might refer.
“Yes,” grunted Ballou. “The ten million dollars. Big money for the crowd down in Santander. Big
money—if they get it.”
Legira raised his cigarette holder to his lips and gave a series of short, quick puffs. His face was as placid
as ever. He expressed no surprise.
“You're smooth enough,” declared Ballou, with a chuckle. “There's no use trying to dodge me, though.
I've got the whole lay, Legira. You're all set to get ten million dollars. Any time you want it, any way you
want it.
“Pretty smart—but not smart enough. I'm telling you, now, that it's not going to do you a bit of good.”
Legira remained inscrutable.
“Play dumb if you want,” continued Ballou. “Play dumb, but listen. I'm going to give you a break.
Fifty-fifty.”
“Fifty-fifty?”
“Yes. Five million to you; five million to me. Your business is yours; my business is mine. There's the
proposition!”
“I HAVE requested no proposition,” said Legira suavely.
