CHAPTER EIGHTThe midday sun blazed down on the narrow hilly streets of Funchal, the capital of the beautiful island of Madeira.
The low white buildings dozed behind their blue shutters. The lanes and alleyways were deserted with only lazy bees bumbling around through the cascades of pink and purple bougainvillea and other brilliantly coloured flowers that dropped a profusion of petals like confetti onto the cobblestones below.
A lonely figure trudged uphill along one wide road in a fashionable area of the town.
Joe stopped for a moment in the shade of a tree that to his amazement was growing real lemons to wipe the sweat from his shining face with a big red handkerchief.
Under the floppy white hat the Earl had given him to wear, his blond hair was sticking to his forehead and irritatin
