A man stood on the other side of the open fireplace, a man of about forty-five, of something over the middle height and marvellously well-built. He was clad in what, though it was not distinctly a seaman's habit, yet suggested the ways of the sea, and there was a kind of foppishness about his rig which set me wondering, for I was used to a slovenly squalor or a slovenly bravery in the sailors I knew most of. He was a handsome fellow, with dark curling hair and dark eyes, and a dark skin that seemed Italian. I have heard men say that there is no art to read the mind's complexion in the face. These fellows pretend that your villain is often smooth-faced as well as smooth-tongued, and pleases the eye to the benefit of his mischievous ends. Whereas, on the other hand, many an honest fellow is damned for a scoundrel because with the nature of an angel he has the mask of a fiend. In which two fancies I have no belief. A rogue is a rogue all the world over, and flies his flag in his face for those who can read the bunting. He may flatter the light eye or the cold eye, but the warm gaze will find some lurking line by the lip, some wryness of feature, some twist of the devil's fingers in his face, to betray him. And as for an honest man looking like a rogue, the thing is impossible. I have seen no small matter of marvels in my time--even, as I think, the great sea serpent himself, though this is not the time and place to record it--but I have never seen the marvel of a good man with a bad man's face, and it was my first and last impression that the face of Cornelys Jensen was the face of a rogue. CHAPTER IX THE TALK IN THE DOLPHIN Captain Marmaduke presented me to the two men, while his hand still rested on my shoulder. 'Brother,' he said, 'this is Master Ralph Crowninshield, of whom you have often heard from Lancelot.' 'Aye,' said the old man, looking at me without any salutation. 'Aye, I have heard of him from Lancelot.' Captain Marmaduke now turned towards the other man, who had never taken his eyes off me since I entered the room. 'Cornelys Jensen, here is Master Ralph Crowninshield, your shipmate that is to be.' Cornelys Jensen came across the room in a couple of swinging strides and held out his hand to me. Something in his carriage reminded me of certain play-actors who had come to the town once. This man carried himself like a stage king. We clasped hands, and he spoke. 'Salutation, shipmate.' Then we unclasped, and he returned to his post by the fireplace with the same exaggeration of action as before. The old man broke a short silence. 'Well, Marmaduke, why have you brought this boy here?' The Captain motioned me to a seat, which I took, and sat back himself in his former place. 'Because the boy is going with me, and I thought that you might have something to say to him before he went.' 'Something to say to him?' The old man repeated the words like a sneer, then he faced on me again and addressed me with an unmoving face.