“I don’t know where exactly, it was somewhere in Australia.”
“In Australia!” I never saw surprise written more plainly on a person’s face. “But when?”
“If, as you say, you knew him, then you ought to know better than I, who never did.”
“When I last saw Mr. Batters he didn’t look as if he meant to die.”
He gave a short laugh, as if he were enjoying some curious little joke of his own.
“Where did you see him last?”
“On the Flying Scud.”
“The Flying Scud? What’s that?”
“My ship. Or, rather, it was my ship. The devil knows whose it is now.”
“Mr. Lander, if that really is your name, I don’t know anything about my uncle, except that he is dead. Was he a sailor?”