The bungalow was perched high up on the hillside. Over the tree-tops, that in perspective looked like a vast green tapestry of intricate and wonderful design, and that changed kaleidoscopically as the sun played hide and seek with the drifting clouds, could be seen in the far distance, some six or seven miles away, the harbour of Suva and the open sea. Of the town itself, nestling along the ocean front, nothing was discernible, save where, here and there, a tiny patch of white indicated a dwelling on Flagstaff Hill.
On the verandah a man lay stretched out in a reclining chair. He was dapper and in immaculate white. At first glance he appeared to be a man well on in the sixties; but upon closer acquaintance one was apt to revise that opinion. There was a certain vivacity about Mr. Henry Wa
