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"I have decide," said the General, "to buy not guns. I have to-day buy the insides of this hotel, and there shall be marrying of the General Perrico Ximenes Villablanca Falcon with la Madame O'Brien." Mr. Kelley almost strangled. "Say, you old bald-headed bottle of shoe polish," he spluttered, "you're a swindler that's what you are!
Two hours later he returned to the hotel. He glanced in at the open door of the little combined reception room and cafe. Half a dozen of Macuto's representative social and official caballeros were distributed about the room. Senor Villablanca, the wealthy rubber concessionist, reposed his fat figure on two chairs, with an emollient smile beaming upon his chocolate-coloured face.
One day a Hamburg-American liner deposited upon Pier No. 55 Gen. Perrico Ximenes Villablanca Falcon, a passenger from Cartagena. The General was between a claybank and a bay in complexion, had a 42-inch waist and stood 5 feet 4 with his Du Barry heels.
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