All at once, on the Promenade, as it was called—that is to say, in the Chestnut Avenue—I came face to face with my Englishman.
“I was just coming to see you,” he said; “and you appear to be out on a similar errand. So you have parted with your employers?”
“How do you know that?” I asked in astonishment. “Is everyone aware of the fact?”
“By no means. Not everyone would consider such a fact to be of moment. Indeed, I have never heard anyone speak of it.”
“Then how come you to know it?”
“Because I have had occasion to do so. Whither are you bound? I like you, and was therefore coming to pay you a visit.”
“What a splendid fellow you are, Mr. Astley!” I cried, though still wondering how he had come by his knowledge. “And since I have not yet had my coffee, and you have, in all probability, scarcely tasted yours, let us adjourn to the Casino Café, where we can sit and smoke and have a talk.”
The café in question was only a hundred paces away; so, when coffee had been brought, we seated ourselves, and I lit a cigarette. Astley was no smoker, but, taking a seat by my side, he prepared himself to listen.
“I do not intend to go away,” was my first remark. “I intend, on the contrary, to remain here.”
“That I never doubted,” he answered good-humouredly.