twenty-six
Not wanting to let the side down, whilst not being sure which side he was on or whether there were indeed two sides, Mr Samuels thought it best to freshen up a little before lunch. Waiting for him was a pristine white linen suit, shirt, cravat, panama hat and white canvas deck-shoes. Mr Samuels had always been suspicious of such garb, thinking it overly smart and having not a little whiff of the plantation about it, but he was glad of it on that day as he recalled that he was still wearing the clothes in which he had slept in the open.
But there was a further reason: camouflage, of sorts. If he had appeared once again in his habitual brown suit and tie and about him were people dressed in a variety of white, summer fabrics, he would stick out like a sore thumb. Such a thing wa
