They drifted apart, and Norgate, having made arrangements about his luggage, strolled through the town and on to the promenade.  It was early for the full season at Ostend, but the sands were already crowded with an immense throng of children and holiday-makers.  The hotels were all open, and streams of people were passing back and forth along the front, Norgate, who had no wish to meet acquaintances, passed the first period of his enforced wait a little wearily.  He took a taxicab and drove as far as Knocke.  Here he strolled across the links and threw himself down finally amongst a little wave of sandy hillocks close to the sea.  The silence, and some remains of the sleepiness of the previous night, soon began to have their natural effect.  He closed his eyes and began to doze.  When he awoke, curiously enough, it was a familiar voice which first fell upon his ears.  He turned his head cautiously.  Seated not a dozen yards away from him was a tall, thin man with a bag of golf clubs by his side.  He was listening with an air of engrossed attention to his companion’s impressive remarks.  Norgate, raising himself upon his elbow, no longer had any doubts.  The man stretched upon his back on the sand, partly hidden from sight by a little grass-grown undulation, was his late travelling companion.

“You do well, my dear Marquis, believe me!” the latter exclaimed.  “Property in Belgium is valuable to-day.  Take my advice.  Sell.  There are so many places where one may live, where the climate is better for a man of your constitution.”

“That is all very well,” his companion replied querulously, “but remember that Belgium, after all, is my country.  My chateau and estates came to me by inheritance.  Notwithstanding the frequent intermarriages of my family with the aristocracy of your country, I am still a Belgian.”

“Ah! but, my dear friend,” Selingman protested, “you are more than a Belgian, more than a man of local nationality.  You are a citizen of the world of intelligence.  You are able to see the truth.  The days are coming when small states may exist no longer without the all-protecting arm of a more powerful country.  I say no more than this.  The position of Belgium is artificial.  Of her own will, or of necessity, she must soon become merged in the onward flow of mightier nations.”

“What about Holland, then?”

“Holland, too,” Selingman continued, “knows the truth.  She knows very well that the limit of her days as an independent kingdom is almost reached.  The Power which has absorbed the states of Prussia into one mighty empire, pauses only to take breath.  There are many signs—­”

“But, my worthy friend,” the other man interrupted irritably, “you must take into consideration the fact that Belgium is in a different position.  Our existence as a separate kingdom might certainly be threatened by Germany, but all that has been foreseen.  Our neutrality is guaranteed.  Your country has pledged its honour to maintain it, side by side with France and England.  What have we to fear, then?”