hing
I sell, senor, perhaps you will remember that I am an honest man."

Kit went away, feeling puzzled and somewhat surprised. It looked as if
the fellow was honest, but Kit thought he had studied him and there was
something curious about his manner. Besides, a remark he made implied
that he knew the coin was old.

When he ate his eleven o'clock breakfast with Adam and the President in
the arcade, he took out the coin and told them about the shopkeeper's
refusal to take it back.

"A Spanish onza," Adam remarked. "Worth nearly five pounds in English
money, but a collector might give you more if it's as old as it looks.
One used to see onzas in Cuba, and native merchants in Central America,
who hadn't much use for banks, liked to get them. Now, however, they're
getting scarce."

"In this country, all gold coins are scarce," Alvarez said dryly. "I
agree with the shopkeeper that Don Cristoval is fortunate, and expect he
feels that my people are honester than he thought."

"I was puzzled--" said Kit and stopped, for he saw the president's smile
and began to understand.

"You are shrewd, senor; but that was to be expected from my old friend's
nephew. To begin with, the man who keeps the shop is not a supporter of
the Government."

"Ah," said Kit, "I think I see!"

Alvarez bowed. "One can trust your intelligence, and you can keep the
coin. It looks as if my antagonists were curious about your
character--the honor of a man who would take money that does not belong
to him is open to doubt. The experiment was cheap."

Kit said nothing and the president filled a little glass with scented
liquor. "I know my friends, Don Cristoval, and your uncle has stood much
harder tests."

He touched Kit's glass with his. "Well, I am lucky, because I may need
friends soon."

He got up and when he went down the long arcade Adam looked at Kit
with a smile.

"When I was your age I wouldn't have taken the onza back. I'd have kept
the money and my faith with the president; in fact, in those days, I kept
anything I could get. Now the other fellow knows what you're like, I
reckon he'll find the owner of the coin."

Adam went off after the president, and Kit pondered. A few days later, he
sat one evening at a small table outside the cafe Bolivar. The cafe was
badly lighted, hot, and full of flies. There was no door or window, and a
few wooden pillars divided the low room from the pavement, which was
strewn with cigarette ends and card