"Yes, Senos know. He tell in Ostend when we meet," he replied. "You go to-morrow, eh?" and he looked at me anxiously with those dark, rather blood-shot eyes of his.
"I will go to-morrow," I answered without hesitation; and, taking out my wallet I gave him three notes of a hundred francs each, saying:
"This will pay your fare. I will go straight to the Grand Hotel, on the Digue. You will meet me there."
"And the laidee—eh? She must be there too."
"Yes, Miss Shand will be with me," I said.
"Good, sare—very good!" he replied, thrusting the notes into the inner pocket of his red velvet jacket. "I get other clothes—these only to sell things," and he smiled.
I tried to induce him to tell me more, but he refused, saying:
"At Ostend Senos show you. He tell you all he know—he tell the truth about the 'Red' Englishman."
And presently, after he had refused the drink I offered him, the Peruvian, who was earning his living as an Arab of North Africa, bowed with politeness and left me, saying:
"I meet you, Mee-ster Royle, at Grand Hotel in Ostend. But be careful neither of you seen. They are sharp, clever, alert—oh, ve-ry! We leave to-morrow—eh? Good!"