“Skipper was a Farlingford man, name of Doy,” he continued. “Long as he lived he was pestered by inquiries from the French government respecting a Dieppe fishing-smack supposed to have been picked up abandoned at sea. He had picked up no fishing-smack, and he answered no letters about it. He was an old man when it happened, and he died at sea soon after my indentures expired. The woman and child were brought here, where nobody could speak French, and, of course, neither of them could speak any English. The boy was white-faced and frightened at first, but he soon picked up spirit. They were taken in and cared for by one and another--any who could afford it. For Farlingford has always bred seafaring men ready to give and take.” “So we were told yesterday by the rector. We had a long talk with him in the morning. A clever man, if--” Dormer Colville did not complete the remark, but broke off with a sigh. He had no doubt seen trouble himself. For it is not always the ragged and unkempt who have been sore buffeted by the world, but also such as have a clean-washed look almost touching sleekness. “Yes,” said Clubbe, slowly and conclusively. “So you have seen the parson.” “Of course,” Colville remarked, cheerfully, after a pause; for we cannot always be commiserating the unfortunate. “Of course, all this happened before his time, and Monsieur de Gemosac does not want to learn from hearsay, you understand, but at first hand. I fancy he would, for instance, like to know when the woman, the--mother died.” Clubbe was looking straight in front of him. He turned in his disconcerting, monumental way and looked at his questioner, who had imitated with a perfect ingenuousness his own brief pause before the word mother. Colville smiled pleasantly at him. “I tell you frankly, Captain,” he said, “it would suit me better if she wasn't the mother.” “I am not here to suit you,” murmured Captain Clubbe, without haste or hesitation. “No. Well, let us say for the present that she was the mother. We can discuss that another time. When did she die?” “Seven years after landing here.” Colville made a mental calculation and nodded his head with satisfaction at the end of it. He lighted another cigarette. “I am a business man, Captain,” he said at length. “Fair dealing and a clean bond. That is what I have been brought up to. Confidence for confidence. Before we go any further--” He paused and seemed to think before committing himself. Perhaps he saw that Captain Clubbe did not intend to go much further without some quid pro quo. “Before we go any further, I think I may take it upon myself to let you into the Marquis's confidence. It is about an inheritance, Captain. A great inheritance and--well, that young fellow may well be the man. He may be born to greater things than a seafaring life, Captain.”