The man nodded.
"There is something of the manner of the seaman about you," said he. "And yet," with another smirk, "I seem to see the merchant, too."
"You have an excellent eye," said Anthony.
"I wonder," said the man, "if I've ever come upon you before. I have a passing acquaintance with most of the traders, ship-owners, and traffickers in the port, and yet I can't recall you."
"I have been in the North only a short time," said Anthony. "I'm of Rufus Stevens' Sons."
The man sucked in his lips, and left off warming his hands; his one good eye searched Anthony's face with startled sharpness.
"A good house," he said finally. "An excellent house. You are perhaps," and he said this with care, "that nephew to Charles of whom I have heard."
"I am his only nephew," said Anthony.
"There are those who speak of Charles as erratic," observed the man with the one eye. "But that is an error. He is different from most of his occupation, but difference signifies nothing to a man's discredit. He is an unusual and desirable person. I congratulate you in him."
Anthony nodded. He wished the man would take himself off, for the furtive manner and crafty eye did not please him.