Trent, in white linen clothes and puggaree, was leaning over the railing, gazing towards the town, when Da Souza came up to him-- "Last morning, Mr.Trent!" Trent glanced round and nodded.
"Are you disembarking here ?" he asked.
Da Souza admitted the fact.

"My brother will meet me," he said.

"He is very afraid of the surf-boats, or he would have come out to the steamer.
You remember him ?" "Yes, I remember him," Trent answered.

"He was not the sort of person one forgets." "He is a very rough diamond," Da Souza said apologetically.

"He has lived here so long that he has become almost half a native." "And the other half a thief," Trent muttered.
Da Souza was not in the least offended.
"I am afraid," he admitted, "that his morals are not up to the Threadneedle Street pitch, eh, Mr.Trent?
But he has made quite a great deal of money.