"Well, Mr. Secretary, I think the next move is to think the matter over
for a few days, quietly and alone."
"Do you?" Enoch smiled enigmatically. "I don't know that it's safe for
me to rely on your experience after all!" But he said no more.
Enoch spent the evening in his living-room with Senor Juan Cadiz and a
small, lean, brown man in an ill-fitting black suit. The latter did
not speak English, and Senor Cadiz acted as interpreter. The stranger
was uneasy and suspicious, until the very last of the evening. Then,
after a long half hour spent in silent scowling while he stared at
Enoch and listened to the Secretary's replies to Cadiz's eager
questions, he suddenly burst into a passionate torrent of Spanish. A
look of great relief came to Cadiz's face, as he said to Enoch:
"Now he says he trusts you and will tell you the names of the Americans
who are paying him."
Enoch began to jot down notes. When Cadiz's translation was finished
Enoch said:
"This in brief, then, is the situation. A group of Americans own vast
oil fields in Mexico. They have enormous difficulty policing and
controlling the fields. The Mexican method of concession making is
exceedingly expensive and uncertain. They wish the United States to
take Mexico over, either through actual conquest or by mandate.
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