The elder man smiled. "That's very kind of you," he said.
He had the slow speech of one accustomed to solitude. He kept Piers' hand in his in a warm, firm grip. "I have often thought about you," he said. "You know, I never heard your name."
"My name is Evesham," said Piers, with the quick, gracious manner habitual to him. "Piers Evesham."
"Thank you. Mine is Edmund Crowther. Odd that we should meet like this!"
"A piece of luck I didn't expect!" said Piers boyishly. "Have you only just arrived?"
"I came here last night from Marseilles." Crowther's eyes rested on the smiling face with its proud, patrician features with the look of a man examining a perfect bronze. "It's very kind of you to welcome me like this," he said. "I was feeling a stranger in a strange land as I came up that path."
"I've been watching you," said Piers. "I liked the business-like way you tackled it. It was British."
Crowther smiled. "I suppose it has become second nature with me to put business first," he said.
"Wish I could say the same," said Piers; and then, with his hand on the other man's arm: "Come and have a drink! You are staying for some time, I hope?"
"No, not for long," said Crowther. "It was yielding to temptation to come here at all."