He waved the cane menacingly after Meeker and slammed the door.

Leaving the bank, I turned toward the Escolta, which is the principal
business street of Manila. The shop windows attracted me, and I sauntered
for half an hour or more. I wanted a new field-glass, and as I stood on
the pavement at a corner and looked in at a jeweller's window I caught
the image of Meeker in the glass, which was thrown in a shadow by an
awning.

I turned without thinking Meeker could have any interest in what I might
do, and saw him half a block away talking to the little red-headed beggar
who had looked in at the bank door. Meeker evidently caught me looking at
him, for he whispered to the beggar, who hastened away, taking a furtive
glance at me over his shoulder as he left. I turned toward Meeker, and he
swung away down the street as I approached him, with more nimbleness than
I supposed was in his old bones.

"I suppose the pest will be at my heels for the next week," I told
myself, annoyed at the way the missionary crossed my path. That was the
fourth time I had seen him in an hour, and I dreaded to go to the hotel,
sure I would meet him again--for, of course, he could not have gone
anywhere else but to the Oriente.

I thought it strange that he should be talking to the little beggar,
although it never occurred to me that they were watching me; and, even if
they were, I would have not concerned myself much about it. As it was, I
ascribed Meeker's embarrassment when I last saw him to what had passed
between us in the bus, and concluded that he was trying to avoid me,
which I considered a praiseworthy effort on his part.