"No," said Paul. "I came from England. I was born and reared in Cornwall. Years ago, a man named Donald Lindsay came there and married into my family. I was wanting to find out something about him."
He knew it was a clumsy explanation of his appearance there, but it was the best he could think of for the moment.
"What'll you be to Donald Lindsay?" asked the woman, as she scanned him closely. "He died two years since, and it's getting on for forty years ago since he was down South. He's told me about it many a time. You're in no way related to him, are you?"
And then, giving him a second glance, she went on:
"No, no, you're no Lindsay. Donald was blue-eyed and fair-haired, and you are black-eyed and black-haired."
"But did not Donald have a daughter?" asked Paul. "You see, I've heard he married a Cornish girl, and that they had a daughter. Did you know her? Did she ever live here?"
"What's that to you?" asked the woman. "You don't mean to say that there's any siller coming to her?"
"I don't say but what there is," replied Paul, seeing that this might be the key which might help to unlock the mystery of his mother's life.
"And are you a lawyer chap?"
"Do I look like a lawyer?" he asked with a laugh. He was wanting to get the woman into a communicative mood.