“Who was that fellow?” I asked Sir Charles, as we walked through the narrow street down to the quay.
“Couldn’t make him out,” was my friend’s reply. “Looks very suspiciously like an agent of police.”
“That’s just my opinion,” I said anxiously. “We must be careful—very careful.”
“Yes. We mustn’t meet again unless absolutely necessary. I’m just going up the hill to the post-office to send a cipher message to Bindo. He ought to be here at once. Good-bye.”
And he turned the corner and left me.
The sudden appearance of the long-nosed person puzzled me greatly.
Was it possible that we had fallen beneath the active surveillance of the Sureté?