Sully Magoon paused while the waiter poured us black coffee.
“Your friend was, indeed, something of a manager,” I said.
“Wait a minute,” said Sully, “I have n’t given you any idea of what he could do yet. That’s all to come.
“When we got back to New York there was General Rompiro waiting for us on the pier. He was dancing like a cinnamon bear, all impatient for the news, for Denver had just cabled him when we would arrive and nothing more.
“Am I elect?’ he shouts. ‘Am I elect, friend of mine? Is it that mine country have demand General Rompiro for the president? The last dollar of mine have I sent you that last time. It is necessario that I am elect. I have not more money. Am I elect, Señor Galloway”
“Denver turns to me.
“‘Leave me with old Rompey, Sully,’ he says. ‘I’ve got to break it to him gently. ’Twould be indecent for other eyes to witness the operation. This is the time, Sully,’ says he, ‘when old Denver has got to make good as a jollier and a silver-tongued sorcerer, or else give up all the medals he’s earned.’
“A couple of days later I went around to the hotel. There was Denver in his old place, looking like the hero of two historical novels, and telling ’em what a fine time he’d had down on his orange plantation in Florida.
“‘Did you fix things up with the General?’ I asks him.
