“And I thought you were in Europe,” he muttered. Hope flickered for a moment. “Look here, you're joking me. How do I know you're Swithin Hall?”
Grief shrugged his shoulders. “Such a joke would be in poor taste, after your hospitality. And it is equally in poor taste to have two Swithin Halls on the island.”
“Since you're Swithin Hall, then who the deuce am I? Do you know that, too?”
“No,” Grief answered airily. “But I'd like to know.”
“Well, it's none of your business.”
“I grant it. Your identity is beside the point. Besides, I know your schooner, and I can find out who you are from that.”
“What's her name?”
“The Emily L.
“Correct. I'm Captain Raffy, owner and master.”
“The seal-poacher? I've heard of you. What under the sun brought you down here on my preserves?”