Читать книгу The Dark River онлайн

42 страница из 94

"Hope I haven't kept you, George," the consul remarked, as they exchanged greetings.

"I've only just come, sir," McLeod replied. "Alan will be along in a few minutes. He said not to wait for him."

The consul led the way into the restaurant and they seated themselves in a corner of the large bare room well filled with early morning breakfasters. On the floor beside nearly every table stood baskets filled with the day's marketing. Waiters moved briskly back and forth with trays of fruit, coffee and rolls, white wine, sausage, and omelets. Tyson ordered breakfast for three in the curious mutilated Polynesian jargon used with the Chinese. He then turned to McLeod.

"You won't remember it, George, but you had breakfast with me here with your parents, seventeen years ago. Shouldn't wonder if it was at this very table. It was when they first came. How old are you now?"

"Twenty-one."

"If you want to know what your father was like at your age, you've only to look in a glass. It gave me a start when I caught sight of you a moment ago, as I came down the square."