While we talked, I noticed that Kennedy evidently shared my own tastes, for he allowed his cigarette to go out, and, after a puff or two, I did the same.  For the sake of my own comfort, I drew one of my own from my case as soon as I could do so politely, and laid the stub of the other in an ash-tray on Whitney’s desk.

“Mr. Lockwood and Senor Mendoza had some joint interests in the country, too, didn’t they?” queried Kennedy, his eye still on the pieces of paper near the door.

“Yes,” returned Whitney.  “Lockwood!”

“What is it?” came Lockwood’s voice from outside.

“Show Professor Kennedy where you and Mendoza have those concessions.”

The young engineer strode into the room, and I saw a smile of gratification cross Kennedy’s face as his foot, also, fell on the paper by the door.

Unlike Whitney, however, Lockwood bent over to gather up the sheets.  But before he could actually do so Kennedy reached down and swept them just out of his reach.

“Quite breezy,” Kennedy covered up his action, turning to restore the paper to the desk.

Craig had his back to them, but not to me, and I saw him fumble for an instant with the papers.  Quickly he pressed his thumb-nail on one side, as though making a rough “W,” while on the other side he made what might be an “L.”  Then he shoved the two sheets and the carbon into his pocket.

I glanced up hastily.  Fortunately, neither Whitney nor Lockwood had noted his action.

For the first time, now, I noticed as I watched him that Lockwood’s eyes, too, were a trifle stary, though not so noticeable as Whitney’s.

“Let me see,” continued Whitney, “your concessions are all about here, in the north, aren’t they?”

Lockwood drew a pencil from his pocket and made several cross-marks over the names of some towns on the large map.

“Those are the points that we had proposed to work,” he said simply, “before this terrible tragedy to Mendoza.”

“Mining, you understand,” explained Whitney.  Then, after a pause, he resumed quickly.  “Of course, you know that much has been said about the chances for mining investments and about the opportunities for fortunes for persons in South America.  Peru has been the Mecca for fortune hunters since the days of Pizarro.  But where one person has been successful thousands have failed because they don’t know the game.  Why, I know of one investment of hundreds of thousands that hasn’t yielded a cent of profit just because of that.”

Lockwood said nothing, evidently not caring to waste time or breath on any one who was not a possible investor.  But Whitney had the true promoter’s instinct of booming his scheme on the chance that the interest inspired might be carried to some third party.

“American financiers, it is true,” he went on excitedly, taking out a beautifully chased gold cigarette case, “have lost millions in mining in Peru.  But that is not the scheme that our group, including Mr. Lockwood now, has.  We are going to make more millions than they ever dreamed of—­because we are simply going to mine for the products of centuries of labour already done—­for the great treasure of Truxillo.”