He was about twenty-eight, but he seemed at least four years older, partly because of a deep wrinkle which slashed down each cheek, and partly because he was so perfectly self-possessed and elaborately courteous.

His intellect was apparently as alert and adroit as his physical action.

A few words from Clara enabled him to seize the situation.
"Go at once," he decided without a moment's hesitation.

"My dear cousin, it will be the happy turning point of your fortunes.

I fancy you already inheriting the hoards, city lots, haciendas, mines, and cattle of our excellent relative Munoz--long may he live to enjoy them! Certainly.