He waited until the empty victoria had driven away; then he turned to the waiting ragamuffin.
"What is your name?"
"Carlos Cabindez," said the man hesitatingly.
"Where do you live?"
"At Ronda."
"Where have you come from?"
"Tarifa."
"What is your trade?"
The man grinned and shuffled his feet.
"A fisherman," he said at last.