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Neither did he possess a trace of Garlicho's affability or polish. On the contrary, he conducted himself like a muleteer, and spoke with the same sort of brutal authority. And the differences did not stop here. Garlicho was shrivelled and sun-dried.
Senor Garlicho, for some reason unknown to me, had waited until his option had expired and had then sent Onativia in his place. This wiped out the past and made a new deal necessary one which included the price of erection on the reef, a point which had not been raised in the former negotiation. "All right," I said, "you shall have the estimate.
Site is twelve miles from San Juan, exposed to the rake of the sea; bottom coral, I understand; labor cheap and good for nothing, and appliances none except what can be shipped from here." This came with the air of one who knew. I now took charge of the negotiations: "We have refused to erect the structure or be responsible for it after it leaves our dock. We told Senor Garlicho so."
The genial Scotchman broke out into a loud laugh. "Don't laugh! Listen!" I said to him. "Tell me, why didn't Garlicho go on with the work, and what do you know about Onativia?" Lawton leaned back in his chair and closed one eye in merriment. "Garlicho did not go on with the work, my dear friend, because he was breaking stone in the streets of San Juan with a ball and chain around his ankle.
"I am Senor Garlicho " Then a shade of uncertainty crossed his face: Mawkum was still staring at him. "It is a mistake then, perhaps? I have a letter from Senor Law-TON. Is it not to the great designer of lighthouse which I speak?" This came with more bows one almost to the floor. The mention of Lawton's name brought Mawkum to his senses.
Next came a shirt-front soiled and crumpled, and then the rest of him in a suit of bombazine. "You designed a lighthouse some months ago for Mr. Garlicho, of San Juan," he blurted out with hardly an accent. "I arrived this morning by the Tampico. My name is Carlos Onativia." And he laid a thin, elongated piece of cardboard on Mawkum's desk.
"Yes; there it is," and I pointed to the document lying on my desk. "And now one word, please. When did you last see Mr. Lawton? He's our agent, you know, and you must have met him in connection with this matter. When Senor Garlicho arrived he brought us a letter from him." Onativia's lips curled slightly as he recognized the hidden meaning of the inquiry, but his expression never changed.
He arrived on the minute, bobbed to Mawkum, drew a chair to my desk and squared, or rather rounded, his body in front of me. "I will now tell you what I omitted to say yesterday," he began. "When an order comes for this lighthouse and it will arrive by the next steamer it will not be signed by Senor Garlicho, but by me.
Most of us who have opinions of our own have been away from San Juan some for years. San Juan has not been a healthy place for men who believe in Paramba." "And do you?" "Absolutely. So do thousands of our citizens." "You don't seem to agree with Senor Garlicho, then. He thought your former president, Paramba, a tyrant. As for President Alvarez, he looked upon him as the saviour of his country."
Do you want this matter hung up for six weeks until we can communicate with Mr. Garlicho? Every hour's delay in putting the light on the Lobo means that many more deaths." As he spoke a peculiar smile struggled from under his black dab of a mustache, got as far as the base of his nose and there collapsed. My duty was now clear.
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