He took a drink at a cafe, neither hiding himself unnaturally nor ostentatiously occupying a chair at the edge of the awning.

He sat there for half an hour.

But when he rose again he made sure that no one was loitering to watch his movements.

He sauntered up to the very end of the Rambla past the ice-cream kiosque.
The great Plaza spread in front of him, and at the corner across the road stood a double line of motor-cars, some for hire, others waiting for parties in the restaurants opposite.

He walked across the roadway and disappeared in between the motor-cars as if he intended to cross the Plaza by the footway to the Paseo de la Reforma.