“Hello!” said a voice. The pair looked up. The man who had arrived on the previous night stood in the sitting-room doorway. How long he had been standing there the captain did not know. What he did know was that Mr. John Smith by daylight was not more prepossessing than the same individual viewed by the aid of a lamp.
Emily saw the stranger and slid from Captain Cy's knees. The captain rose.
“Bos'n,” he said, “this is Mr.—er—Smith, who's goin' to make us a little visit. I want you to shake hands with him.”
The girl dutifully approached Mr. Smith and extended her hand. He took it and held it in his own.
“Is this the—” he began.
Captain Cy bowed assent.
“Yes,” he said, his eyes fixed on the visitor's face. “Yes. Don't forget what you said last night.”
Smith shook his head.
“No,” he replied. “I ain't the kind that forgets, unless it pays pretty well. There's some things I've remembered for quite a few years.”
He looked the child over from head to foot and his brows drew together in an ugly frown.