But there was not one there yesterday afternoon at three.
Behind us is the supporting wall of the hotel garden.

Well, look about you.

We cannot be seen from the hotel.

There's not a soul in sight--yes, there's some one coming up the hill, but we have been standing here quite long enough for you to stab me and get back to your coffee on the verandah of the hotel." Ricardo started back.
"Marthe Gobin!" he cried.

"It was here, then ?" Hanaud nodded.
"When we returned from the station in your motor-car and went up to your rooms we passed Harry Wethermill sitting upon the verandah over the garden drinking his coffee.