The Baron was sauntering slowly by, wrapped in a cloak, and leaning heavily on a malacca cane. In a moment Willie Ruston was down the stairs and after him.
Hearing his name cried, the Baron stopped and turned round.
"What chance brings you here?" asked Willie, holding out his hand.
"Oh, hardly chance," said the Baron. "I always go to some seaside place, and I thought I might meet friends here," and he smiled significantly.
"Yes," said Ruston, after a pause; "I believe I did mention it in Threadneedle Street. I went in there the other day."
By the general term Threadneedle Street he meant to indicate the offices of the Baron's London correspondents, which were situate there.
"They keep you informed, it seems?"
"I live by being kept informed," said the Baron.
Ruston was walking by him, accommodating his pace to the old man's feeble walk.
"You mean you came to see me?" he asked.