A jet black
mustache, small, aquiline features, an engaging smile, and very dark
brown eyes, viciously crossed, made up a personality incongruous with
his sheltering silk hat, and calling aloud for a tarboosh and a linen
suit, a shop in a bazaar, or a part in the campaign of commercial
brigandage which, based in the Levant, spreads its ramifications
throughout the Orient, Near and Far.
Mr. Gianapolis had the suave speech and smiling manner. He greeted
Soames not as one greets a prospective servant, but as one welcomes
an esteemed acquaintance. Following a brief chat, he proposed an
adjournment to a neighboring saloon bar; and there, over cocktails, he
conversed with Mr. Soames as one crook with another.
Soames was charmed, fascinated, yet vaguely horrified; for this
man smilingly threw off the cloak of hypocrisy from his companion's
shoulders, and pretended, with the skill of his race, equally to nudify
his own villainy.
"My dear Mr. Soames!" he said, speaking almost perfect English, but with
the sing-song intonation of the Greek, and giving all his syllables
an equal value--"you are the man I am looking for; and I can make your
fortune."
This was entirely in accordance with Mr. Soames' own views, and he
nodded, respectfully.
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