"Already you have told me something." "I fished round the Columbretes all one summer," said Hillyard, with a laugh.
Graham nodded two or three times quickly.
"And the Balearics ?" "I worked on one of Island Line ships between Barcelona and Palma through a winter." "There's a big wireless," said Commodore Graham.
"At Soller.

On the other side of Mallorca from Palma.

You cross a wonderful pass by the old monastery where Georges Sand and Chopin stayed and quarrelled." The literary reminiscence left Commodore Graham unmoved.
"Did you ever go to Iviza ?" "For a month with a tourist who dug for ancient pottery." Graham swung round to his bureau and drummed with the tips of his fingers upon the leather pad.

He made no sign which could indicate whether he was satisfied or no.

He lit a cigarette and handed the box to Hillyard.
"Did you ever come across a man called Jose Medina ?" Eleven years had passed since the strange days in Spain, and those eleven years not without their sharp contrasts and full hours.
Hillyard's act of memory was the making of a picture.