ying:

"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!"

And a moment later the quaint figure was lost in the darkness.

An hour later, though past midnight, I despatched two long telegrams--one
to Fremy in Brussels, and the other to Edwards in London.

Then, two days later, by dint of an excuse that I had urgent business in
Ostend, I found myself with Phrida and Mrs. Shand, duly installed, in
rooms overlooking the long, sunny Digue, one of the finest sea-promenades
in Europe.

Ostend had begun her season, the racing season had commenced, and all the
hotels had put on coats of new, white paint, and opened their doors,
while in the huge Kursaal they played childish games of chance now that
M. Marquet was no longer king--yet the magnificent orchestra was worth a
journey to listen to.

On the afternoon of our arrival, all was gay and bright; outside the blue
sea, the crowd of well-dressed promenaders, and the golden sands where
the bathing was so merry and so chic.

But I had no eyes for the beauties or gaiety of the place. I sat closeted
in my room with two friends, Fremy and Edwards, whom I introduced and who
quickly fraternised.

A long explanatory letter I had written to Brussels had reached Fremy
before his departure from the capital.

"Excellent," he was saying, his round, clean-shaven face beaming. "This
Peruvian evidently knows where they are, and like all natives, wants to
make a _coup-de-theatre_. I've brought two reliable men with me from
Brussels, and we ought--if they are really here--to make a good capture."

"Miss Shand knows nothing, you say?" Edwards remarked, seated on the edge
of