He stared at me so long and fixedly, as if he had never seen anything like me before, that at last, out of sheer discomfort, I had to speak.
"Monsieur Torode?" I asked, and after another staring pause, he said gruffly—
"B'en! I am Torode. What is it you want?"
"A berth on your ship there."
"And why? Who are you, then?"
"Your son knows me. My name is Carré,—Phil Carré. I come from Sercq."
"Where there?"
"Belfontaine."
"Does your father live there?"
"He's dead these twenty years. I live with my mother and my grandfather."