"I cannot admit a stranger," he said at length, "and I cannot let you see my mistress until I know who you are."
"Is she well?" I asked.
Again he seemed to wonder why I should ask such a question, and he answered sadly:
"Yes, considering all things; but what is that to you? Who are you and what do you want?"
I suppose I was not of a very prepossessing appearance. Like most of my race, I was large and strong, but my clothes were somewhat coarse, and my hands were brown and bare. Then my face was covered with a huge brown beard, and I was tanned by long years of exposure to sea air.
"Take me to some room where we can talk together, Peter Polperrow," I said.
"Peter Polperrow!" repeated the old man; "Who are you that you know my name?"
"I will tell you soon, Peter," I answered; "meanwhile lead me to Mr. Roger's old room. I will promise you no harm."
"Master Roger!" repeated the old man; "he has not been here for long years. He has gone away, God only knows where for that matter; nearly everybody believes him to be dead, and so I suppose he'll never return any more. But what do you know of Master Roger?"
"Lead me there and I'll tell you. I can tell you many things you would like to know."