They stepped off the terrace and onto the newly laid lawn. The borders were freshly planted, all raw earth and tiny shrubs. "Papa has been making some large purchases here, and he needs to arrange shipping and finance," Micky went on. "It could be the first small piece of business you bring in to your family bank."
Edward looked keen. "I'll be glad to handle that for you," he said to Papa. "Would you like to come into the bank tomorrow morning, so that we can make all the necessary arrangements?"
"I will," said Papa.
Micky said: "Tell me something. What if the ship sinks? Who loses--us, or the bank?"
"Neither," Edward said smugly. "The cargo will be insured at Lloyd's. We would simply collect the insurance money and ship a new consignment to you. You don't pay until you get your goods. What is the cargo, by the way?"
"Rifles."
Edward's face fell. "Oh. Then we can't help you."
Micky was mystified. "Why?"
"Because of old Seth. He's a Methodist, you know. Well, the whole family is, but he's rather more devout than most. Anyway, he won't finance arms sales, and as he's Senior Partner, that's bank policy."
"The devil it is," Micky cursed. He shot a fearful look at his father. Fortunately, Papa had not understood the conversation. Micky had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Surely his scheme could not founder on something as stupid as Seth's religion? "The damned old hypocrite is practically dead, why should he interfere?"
"He is about to retire," Edward pointed out. "But I think Uncle Samuel will take over, and he's the same, you know."
Worse and worse. Samuel was Seth's bachelor son, fifty-three years old and in perfect health. "We'll just have to go to another merchant bank," Micky said.
Edward said: "That should be straightforward, provided you can give a couple of sound business references."
"References? Why?"
"Well, a bank always takes the risk that the buyer will renege on the deal, leaving them with a cargo of unwanted merchandise on the far side of the globe. They just need some assurance that they're dealing with a respectable businessman."
What Edward did not realize was that the concept of a respectable businessman did not yet exist in South America. Papa was a caudillo, a provincial landowner with a hundred thousand acres of pampas and a work force of cowboys that doubled as his private army. He wielded power in a way the British had not known since the Middle Ages. It was like asking William the Conqueror for references.
