Davy was wearing his business black, his normal fanciful clothes safely at home. It seemed best, all things considered, to not draw too much attention to anyone given the current situation. The man walking beside him, thin and considerably taller made them look almost like a cartoonish pairing. "Ah! This is him." When Davy turned and tapped the thin man on the shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Paying him no mind, Davy continued within earshot of Mehmet. 

"Mr. Gardinier, this is Mr. Mortland."

Mr. Mortland looked over Mehmet appraisingly and then at the hole in the ground. There was a hole. A big hole. Well that was one way for things to be private, Davy supposed. It certainly explained all the talk of dirt. He had met Mr. Mortland in the pub and spent two nights speaking of gardens, trees and surprisingly more dirt than expected. But still, eventually he'd convinced his new friend to come with him to meet the pleasant enough Gardner. Davy was completely certain that both names were made up. Mortland seemed the nervous sort, far to uneasy about talking even in code when anyone was around. Certainly he'd made up a name to talk to the stranger.

Gardinier had seemed much calmer, but still a gardener named Gardinier? Ha, Davy was no fool. No mind. If Mr. Gardinier and Mr. Mortland wanted to learn each other's real names that was their business not his.