"And what do you intend doing now?" Max inquired.
"To-night we are going to meet here, and make the final arrangements; after that we shall start away on our journey."
"And what part am I to play in the performance?"
"That's exactly what we have to arrange," Moreas replied. "As I have already told you, these fellows are none too well disposed towards myself. If it should come to fighting, as it may very well do, they could act as they please with me. I should be powerless to resist them. My idea, therefore, is to get hold of some good man, and import him into the business, not as a friend of my own, but in the capacity of another enemy. To all appearances he would be hand-in-glove with them, but in reality he would be my ally, ready to step up and turn the tables, should they make themselves objectionable. Do you understand?"
Max replied that he understood perfectly well, but he was not quite certain that he altogether liked the idea. He was certainly not going to act in the capacity of a spy, either for Moreas or for anyone else. He said as much to the other, who laughed the matter off.
"My dear fellow, I don't want you to be a spy at all," he said. "What on earth put that notion into your head? I should be the last to suggest such a thing. No, all I want you to do is to prevent them from playing me false. If you come with me as my friend, they'll turn you out again. Don't you see? They're much too sharp to let me employ a bodyguard to act against themselves. All you will have to do will be to stand between us in the capacity of an umpire, and see that there is fair play on both sides. Now, what have you to say?"
"Under those circumstances I have no objection to acting as you propose."
"Very good; that settles it. Now we'd better arrange one or two other little matters while we're about it, and then postpone the remainder until they arrive."
It was not until nearly nine o'clock that evening that the three men, whom Moreas had informed Max were so determined to share the chances of the expedition with him, put in an appearance. It was part of the plan, that Max and he had arranged together, that the former should not be in the room when they arrived. He was to drop in half an hour or so later, as if by chance, and then to appear annoyed at finding them there. When he did so, Moreas greeted him with well-simulated surprise. The others stared at the intruder, as if they scarcely knew what to make of him, and then at Moreas, as if they were suspicious of his action in the matter. On his part Max studied them with equal interest. The taller of the trio was an Englishman, possibly thirty-five years of age, who boasted a frank and extremely pleasing countenance. His name was Bertram, and, as Max discovered later, he had occupied a good position in the world, from which he had fallen, more by his own folly than on account of any material wrong-doing. The other two were unmistakably Spaniards. The name of one was Diego Pereira, that of the other Antonio Rodriguez. Neither of them were particularly pleasant-looking fellows, and Max wondered as he looked at them what it was that had made the Englishman associate with them.