“Yes, I am,” he retorted briskly, “and I’ve got more conceit than a barber’s cat for daring to do it.  Wait a minute and I’ll give you my promissory note.  I’m paying seven per cent for bank accommodations lately.  That rate of interest suit you?”

She nodded and followed him to his office, where he laboriously wrote and signed a promissory note in her favor.  Pablo, remaining politely out of sound of their conversation, wondered vaguely what they were up to.

“Don Mike has told us something of the indolent, easy-going natures of his people,” Kay continued, as she tucked the note in her coat pocket.  “I have wondered if, should, he succeed in saving his ranch without too great an expenditure of effort, he would continue to cast off the spell of ‘the splendid, idle forties’ and take his place in a world of alert creators and producers.  Do you not think, Mr. Bill, that he will be the gainer through my policy of keeping him in ignorance of my part in the re-financing of his affairs—­if he dare not be certain of victory up to the last moment?  Of course it would be perfectly splendid if he could somehow manage to work out his own salvation, but of course, if he is unable to do that his friends must do it for him.  I think it would be perfectly disgraceful to permit a Medal of Honor man to be ruined, don’t you, Mr. Bill?”

“Say, how long have you known this fellow Miguel?”

“Seventy-two hours, more or less.”

He considered.  “Your father’s nerve has been pretty badly shaken by the Jap’s attempt to kill Miguel.  He feels about that pretty much as a dog does when he’s caught sucking eggs.  Why not work on your father now while he’s in an anti-Jap mood?  You might catch him on the rebound, so to speak.  Take him over to La Questa valley some day this week and show him a little Japan; show him what the San Gregorio will look like within five years if he persists.  Gosh, woman, you have some influence with him haven’t you?”

“Very little in business affairs, I fear.”

“Well, you work on him, anyhow, and maybe he’ll get religion and renew Miguel’s mortgage.  Argue that point about giving a Medal of Honor man another chance.”

The girl shook her head.  “It would be useless,” she assured him.  “He has a curious business code and will not abandon it.  He will only quote some platitude about mixing sentiment and business.”

“Then I suppose the battle will have to go the full twenty rounds.  Well, Miss Parker, we’re willing.  We’ve already drawn first blood and with your secret help we ought to about chew the tail off your old man.”

“Cheerio.”  She held out her dainty little gloved hand to him.  “See me when you need more money, Mr. Bill.  And remember!  If you tell on me I’ll never, never forgive you.”

He bent over her hand and kissed it.  His caress was partly reverence, partly a habit of courtliness surviving from a day that is done in California, for under that shabby old tweed suit there beat the gallant heart of a true cavalier.