Feet scrabbled on the flinty path. A dark, thin-faced man in very neat brown clothes and broad-toed shoes came up, followed by Puck. ‘Three Dunkirk boats was standin’ in!’ the man went on. ‘Hssh!’ said Puck. ‘You’ll shock these nice young people.’ ‘Oh! Shall I? Mille pardons!’ He shrugged his shoulders almost up to his ears--spread his hands abroad, and jabbered in French. ‘No comprenny?’ he said. ‘I’ll give it you in Low German.’ And he went off in another language, changing his voice and manner so completely that they hardly knew him for the same person. But his dark beady-brown eyes still twinkled merrily in his lean face, and the children felt that they did not suit the straight, plain, snuffy-brown coat, brown knee-breeches, and broad-brimmed hat. His hair was tied ‘in a short pigtail which danced wickedly when he turned his head. ‘Ha’ done!’ said Puck, laughing. ‘Be one thing or t’other, Pharaoh--French or English or German--no great odds which.’ ‘Oh, but it is, though,’ said Una quickly. ‘We haven’t begun German yet, and--and we’re going back to our French next week.’ ‘Aren’t you English?’ said Dan. ‘We heard you singing just now.’ ‘Aha! That was the Sussex side o’ me. Dad he married a French girl out o’ Boulogne, and French she stayed till her dyin’ day. She was an Aurette, of course. We Lees mostly marry Aurettes. Haven’t you ever come across the saying: ‘Aurettes and Lees, Like as two peas. What they can’t smuggle, They’ll run over seas’? ‘Then, are you a smuggler?’ Una cried; and, ‘Have you smuggled much?’ said Dan. Mr Lee nodded solemnly. ‘Mind you,’ said he, ‘I don’t uphold smuggling for the generality o’ mankind--mostly they can’t make a do of it--but I was brought up to the trade, d’ye see, in a lawful line o’ descent on’--he waved across the Channel--‘on both sides the water. ‘Twas all in the families, same as fiddling. The Aurettes used mostly to run the stuff across from Boulogne, and we Lees landed it here and ran it up to London Town, by the safest road.’ ‘Then where did you live?’ said Una. ‘You mustn’t ever live too close to your business in our trade. We kept our little fishing smack at Shoreham, but otherwise we Lees was all honest cottager folk--at Warminghurst under Washington--Bramber way--on the old Penn estate.’ ‘Ah!’ said Puck, squatted by the windlass. ‘I remember a piece about the Lees at Warminghurst, I do: ‘There was never a Lee to Warminghurst That wasn’t a gipsy last and first. I reckon that’s truth, Pharaoh.’ Pharaoh laughed. ‘Admettin’ that’s true,’ he said, ‘my gipsy blood must be wore pretty thin, for I’ve made and kept a worldly fortune.’ ‘By smuggling?’ Dan asked. ‘No, in the tobacco trade.’ ‘You don’t mean to say you gave up smuggling just to go and be a tobacconist!’ Dan looked so disappointed they all had to laugh.