on that aspect
of the enterprise. It was his lever to move men who had capital. And Charles
Gould believed in the mine. He knew everything that could be known of it. His
faith in the mine was contagious, though it was not served by a great eloquence;
but business men are frequently as sanguine and imaginative as lovers. They are
affected by a personality much oftener than people would suppose; and Charles
Gould, in his unshaken assurance, was absolutely convincing. Besides, it was a
matter of common knowledge to the men to whom he addressed himself that mining
in Costaguana was a game that could be made considably more than worth the
candle. The men of affairs knew that very well. The real difficulty in touching
it was elsewhere. Against that there was an implication of calm and implacable
resolution in Charles Gould's very voice. Men of affairs venture sometimes on
acts that the common judgment of the world would pronounce absurd; they make
their decisions on apparently impulsive and human grounds. »Very well,« had said
the considerable personage to whom Charles Gould on his way out through San
Francisco had lucidly exposed his point of view. »Let us suppose that the mining
affairs of Sulaco are taken in hand. There would then be in it: first, the house
of Holroyd, which is all right; then, Mr. Charles Gould, a citizen of
Costaguana, who is also all right; and, lastly, the Government of the Republic.
So far this resembles the first start of the Atacama nitrate fields, where there
was a financing house, a gentleman of the name of Edwards, and - a Government;
or, rather, two Governments - two South American Governments. And you know what
came of it. War came of it; devastating and prolonged war came of it, Mr. Gould.
However, here we possess the advantage of having only one South American
Government hanging around for plunder out of the deal. It is an advantage; but
then there are degrees of badness, and that Government is the Costaguana
Government.«
    Thus spoke the considerable personage, the millionaire endower of churches
on a scale befitting the greatness of his native land - the same to whom the
doctors used the language of horrid and veiled menaces. He was a big-limbed,
deliberate man, whose quiet burliness lent to an ample silk-faced frock-coat a
superfine dignity. His hair was iron grey, his eyebrows were still black, and
his massive profile was the profile of a Cæsar's head on an old Roman coin. But
his parentage was German and