--" he checked them off
on his long-nailed fingers--"ah, Senor Simoun, I'm lost, I'm _busted_!"

"Get out with your complaints," said Simoun. "I've saved you from many
officials that wanted money from you. I've lent it to them so that
they wouldn't bother you, even when I knew that they couldn't pay."

"But, Senor Simoun, you lend to officials; I lend to women, sailors,
everybody."

"I bet you get your money back."

"Me, money back? Ah, surely you don't understand! When it's lost in
gambling they never pay. Besides, you have a consul, you can force
them, but I haven't."

Simoun became thoughtful. "Listen, Quiroga," he said, somewhat
abstractedly, "I'll undertake to collect what the officers and sailors
owe you. Give me their notes."

Quiroga again fell to whining: they had never given him any notes.

"When they come to you asking for money, send them to me. I want to
help you."

The grateful Quiroga thanked him, but soon fell to lamenting again
about the bracelets. "A _cigarrera_ wouldn't be so shameless!" he
repeated.

"The devil!" exclaimed Simoun, looking askance at the Chinese, as
though studying him. "Exactly when I need the money and thought that
you could pay me! But it can all be arranged, as I don't want you
to fail for such a small amount. Come, a favor, and I'll reduce to
seven the nine thousand pesos you owe me. You can get anything you
wish through the Customs--boxes of lamps, iron, copper, glassware,
Mexican pesos--you furnish arms to the conventos, don't you?"

The Chinese nodded affirmation, but remarked that he had to do a good
deal of bribing. "I furnish the padres everything!"

"Well, then," added Simoun in a low voice, "I need you to get in for
me some boxes of rifles that arrived this evening. I want you to keep
them in your warehouse; there isn't room for all of them in my house."

Quiroga began to show symptoms of fright.

"Don't get scared, you don't run any risk. These rifles are to be
concealed, a few at a time, in various dwellings, then a search will
be instituted, and many people will be sent to prison. You and I can
make a haul getting them set free. Understand me?"

Quiroga wavered, for he was afraid of firearms. In his desk he had
an empty revolver that he never touched without turning his head away
and closing his eyes.

"If you can't do it, I'll have to apply to some one else, but then I'll
need the nine thousand pesos to cross their palms and shut their eyes."

"Al