He passed the boys with a friendly nod. He had hardly gone by, when Jack, who had happened to look around, gave a start.
Standing behind a palm and watching the Minturn party intently, was Jarrold. The trunk of the tree afforded him ample protection from the observation of the man he was watching with an unwavering scrutiny.
Apparently he had not seen the boys. Jack nudged Sam and gave him a whispered warning not to turn around.
“Jarrold is there, watching Colonel Minturn. He is plotting some mischief. I am sure of it.”
“Wherever he is, there is trouble,” agreed Sam.
“That’s just where you are right,” replied Jack.
“Is his pretty niece with him?” inquired Jack’s companion.
“I don’t see her. By the way, I wonder where De Garros met them. Queer that, although they know each other, as De Garros admits, they never speak.”
“They probably met abroad somewhere,” hazarded Sam.
“I suppose so,” was the reply, and then the talk drifted to other subjects. But Jack had shifted his chair so as to watch Jarrold without appearing to do so. Before long, the man turned and strolled in the direction of a terrace which opened on the palm garden.