here,--hiding?

A wave of sick apprehension came over the Bishop. Agonising fear. He
must see Walker at once. Walker, his old friend, who would know what
to do, what to advise. If only he were in town.

Walker was in town as it happened, and the Bishop found him at his
hotel, and poured out to him all his wretched anxieties, the whole
miserable business, not sparing himself in describing his attitude of
unwelcome and unwillingness to receive the boy, and concluding with
his sick fears concerning his safety. Walker listened gravely and
attentively, and was troubled. It was very possible indeed--more than
possible. A search must be begun at once. Fortunately, in that small
community, it was not easy for a foreigner to disappear, and a
stranger could not go inland, into the interior, undetected.
Therefore, if he was here at all, he would soon be found--somewhere.
He would set in motion the machinery immediately. First the hotels;
that was easy. Then the other places. It would doubtless be necessary
to call in the police.

The Bishop begged for secrecy--no publicity. Walker promised. That,
too, would be easy. Leave it to him. The Bishop might rest easy on
that score--no publicity. Walker would do everything himself, as far
as possible. Only, he might have to send for the Bishop, if it became
necessary, to identify----

Two nights later, the Bishop was reclining on the long chair on his
verandah, while overhead the heavy punkah fans swayed to and fro,
stirring the moist, warm air. Out in the harbour the lights gleamed
fitfully, the lanterns on the bobbing sampans contrasting with the
steadier beams of the big ships anchored in the roadway. The ships of
the Orient, congregated from the Seven Seas, full of the mystery and
romance of the East. He had left it to Walker--as he had been told. In
the darkness, with one hand clasped behind his head and the other
holding a glowing cigar, he contemplated the scene, his favourite hour
of the day. Each moment another and another light flitted across the
heavy blackness, showing red or green, while the lights on the moving
sampans darted back and forth in the darkness, restless and alert. He
had left it to Walker. He had stopped thinking of his impending nephew
for a few moments, and his mind had relaxed, as the mind relaxes when
an evil has been postponed from time to time, and normal feeling
reasserts itself after the reprieve. There was a quiet footfall on the
verandah, and the