"Where is he?"
The man bowed, and pointed to the interior of the café.
"I will show m'sieu."
Edward, however, had risen, and he met his uncle as he edged his way between the crowded tables.
"Not a word here," he said, and, taking the old man's arm, he led him out of the sight of the people, some of whom he noticed were already giving them their attention.
They crossed the crowded pavement and the road to the other side of the promenade. This part, bordered as it was by a low sea wall, and without shops or cafés, was practically deserted, and the two men made their way eastward until they came to a flight of a few shallow steps leading down to the well-kept gardens that were the pride of Corbo.
Edward, still with his hand affectionately linked in his uncle's arm, led the way through shrub-bordered paths to a stone seat that, half hidden in a mass of palm foliage, faced the sea. Here it was quiet, the sound of the promenaders reaching them only in a confused murmur. Little lights gleamed here and there from the yachts anchored in the bay.
"So, uncle, there you are," began Edward, unconsciously quoting Hamlet.
"Yes, Edward Povey, I'm here, through your rotten criminal acts, you—you—jail-bird, you——"
"There is no need, I assure you, my dear Uncle Jasper, to be offensive," said Edward Povey.