a curious old town, Tangier," he said, affably, "but too many
hills, is it not so? Algiers I like better. There is more
life."

"Yes, Algiers is almost as good as the boulevards," Gordon
assented, "if you like the boulevards. I prefer this place
because it is unspoiled. But, as you say, there is not much
to do here."

The stranger's eyes fell upon the Hotel Grande Bretagne, which
stood a quarter of a mile away from them on the beach.

"That is the Hotel Bretagne, is it not?" he asked. Gordon
answered him with a nod.

"The King Louis of Messina, so the chasseur at the hotel tells
me, is stopping there en suite," the stranger added, with an
interrogative air of one who volunteers an interesting fact,
and who asks if it is true at the same moment.

"I can't say, I'm sure," Gordon replied. "I only arrived here
yesterday."

The stranger bowed his head in recognition of this piece of
personal information, and, putting on his helmet, picked up
his umbrella as though to continue his stroll. As he did so
his eyes wandered over the harbor and were arrested with
apparent interest by the yacht, which lay a conspicuous object
on the blue water. He pointed at it with his umbrella.