"Ah," said the stranger, with a smile. "I think the ladies are sometimes more clever at that game than the men. By the way," he went on briskly, "do you know a Mr. Dangerfield at Sainteville?" "No," replied Lavinia. "He is staying here, I believe, or has been." "Not that I know of," said Lavinia. "I never heard his name." "Changed it again, probably," carelessly observed the young man. "Is Dangerfield not his true name, then?" "Just as much as it is mine, madam. His real name is Fennel; but he has found it convenient to drop that on occasion." Now it was a curious fact that Nancy did not hear the name which the stranger had given as the true one. Her attention was diverted by some men who were working at the mud in the harbour, for it was low water, and who were loudly disputing together. Nancy had moved to the side of the pier to look down at them. "Is he a swindler, that Mr. Dangerfield?" asked she, half-turning her head to speak. But the stranger did not answer. As to Lavinia, the avowal had struck her speechless. She glanced at Captain Fennel. He had his back to them, and stood immovable, apparently unconcerned, possibly not having heard. A thought struck her--and frightened her. "Do you know that Mr. Dangerfield yourself?" she asked the stranger, in a tone of indifference. "No, I do not," he said; "but there's a man coming over in yonder boat who does." He pointed over his shoulder at the sea as he spoke. Lavinia glanced quickly in the same direction. "In yonder boat?" she repeated vaguely. "I mean the London boat, which is on its way here, and will get in this evening," he explained. "Oh, of course," said Lavinia, as if her wits had been wool-gathering. The young man took out his watch and looked at it. Then he rose, lifted his hat, and, with a general good-morning, walked quickly down the pier. Nancy was still at the side of the pier, looking down at the men. Captain Fennel put up his glasses and sat down beside Lavinia, his impassive face still as usual. "I wonder who that man is?" he cried, watching the footsteps of the retreating stranger. "Did you hear what he said?" asked Lavinia, dropping her voice. "Yes. Had Nancy not been here, I should have given him a taste of my mind; but she hates even the semblance of a quarrel. He had no right to say what he did." "What could it have meant?" murmured Lavinia. "It meant my brother, I expect," said Captain Fennel savagely, and, as Lavinia thought, with every appearance of truth. "But he has never been at Sainteville, so far as I know; the fellow is mistaken in that." "Does he pass under the name of Dangerfield?" "Possibly. This is the first I've heard of it. He is an extravagant man, often in embarrassment from debt. There's nothing worse against him." He did not say more; neither did Lavinia. They sat on in silence. The tall figure in the Scotch plaid disappeared from sight; the men in the harbour kept on disputing.