"And now," cried the Hollander, "here we are at the best café in Rotterdam. Come in, and let us wash out the taste of crime with some beer."
They sat down at one of the little round tables, and two tall glasses foaming at the brim were placed before them.
"They have all the English papers here," said the advocate. "I will ask the waiter to bring you one."
Carew looked round the room, and suddenly his face paled, for he saw sitting at a table at some distance off a fellow-countryman, whom he recognised as a tobacconist in Fleet Street, a man who, no doubt, knew Carew's name and profession well, for the solicitor had often made purchases at his shop.
Carew did not lose his presence of mind. The man was reading the Times, and had, in all probability, not yet observed him.
"Mynheer Hoogendyk," he said, "I am sorry that I must leave you now. I hope you will excuse me. I have an engagement, and in your agreeable company I had forgotten all about it."
"You flatter me, sir," replied the advocate with a bow. "I trust that you will honour me by dining with me to-morrow at eight, your English hour, I believe, for that repast. My wife speaks English well, and will be delighted to see you."
"I accept your invitation with the greatest pleasure, mynheer."
Then they rose to go, and Carew contrived to keep his lively companion between him and the man from Fleet Street as they walked out of the café.