Wyndham was talking to a gentleman from whom his agent bought goods. Don Luis came to town to gamble at the casino, and Marston had met him before.
"You must come and see my finca," he said. "There are ducks on the marsh and you English are fond of sport."
Marston said he would be pleased to go if they stopped long enough; and then letting Wyndham carry on the talk, watched the passers-by. After a few minutes, a big muscular negro entered the belt of light, and Marston glanced at him with some surprise.
"There's Pepe!" he exclaimed.
He doubted if the negro heard him through the clink of glasses and hum of talk, but it looked as if he saw his quick movement, for he turned his head and went behind a group at a table.
"Somebody like him," said Wyndham carelessly, and when Marston looked back across the street the negro had vanished.
People moved about and Marston imagined he had retired into the gloom, where one could not distinguish him from the others. Pepe was the pilot at the lagoon, a good-humored fellow whom they had generally given a small present besides his pay. As a rule, he did not wear much clothes on board, but he was now rather neatly dressed in white cotton and his hat was good. On the Caribbean coast, men spend large sums on their hats. It looked as if Pepe was getting rich, but Marston could not imagine why he did not want to be seen. He was going to talk about this when he caught Wyndham's eye and he lighted a cigarette.
"My partner is a good shot," Wyndham said to their companion. "We will be occupied for two or three days, but perhaps after that——"
Don Luis fixed a day for their visit, and when he went off Marston turned to Wyndham.
"It was Pepe," he declared.