“Now my man, let us understand each other as clearly as we can, and keep to the point as closely as you are able. What’s your name?”
“Luke.”
“Luke what?”
“Luke nothing. I’m known to those who knew me best as St. Luke, after the apostle, being of saintlike character, but in general Luke’s name enough for me. They was modest where I come from.”
“What are you?”
“A sailor man, late of the good ship Flying Scud.”
“The Flying Scud?” I stared at him askance, not certain that I had caught the name correctly. That particular ship seemed in the air. “Then do you know Captain Lander?”
As I asked the question his manner changed. It became suspicious. Thrusting his thumbs into his waistcoat armholes he eyed me warily, as if he had all at once been put upon his guard.
“Now how much do you know about it?”
“What do you mean? How much do I know about what?”