"It ees von grand plaisir, m'sieu," he said, whilst the Turks gravely bowed their acknowledgments.
The upshot of this extraordinary meeting was that when Mr. Winter had secured a room and the party had ordered dinner, the six men set out for a stroll through the town.
Sir Hubert strove hard to so manœuvre their ramble that they should pass the Hotel de France, and perchance come under the astonished eyes of Brett and the others.
But this amiable design was frustrated by Gros Jean's eagerness to visit the post-office, which lay in a different direction.
One of the Turks, none other than Hussein-ul-Mulk, spoke English fairly well, and it puzzled the old baronet considerably to answer his questions.
Yet the situation passed off well. Gros Jean came out of the post-office, apparently without having obtained any missives—a letter, of course, could not possibly await him—and suggested that they should wander towards the harbour.
Sir Hubert strongly recommended the spectacular beauty of the street where the Hotel de France lay, but Gros Jean politely insisted that he wished to make some inquiries at the shipping office, and Mr. Winter backed him up, being ignorant of the baronet's real motive.
There was nothing to do but yield gracefully.
They walked along the Corso Vittorio Emmanuele. Sir Hubert, fresh with memories of his morning's drive with a guide, pointed out the chief buildings, becoming sadly mixed up in the names of some of them.
Still, this was a safer topic than his previous conversation with Hussein-ul-Mulk, so he persevered gamely.