"A smuggler, people say, or perhaps worse. His wife has been long years dead, and he has lived alone ever since, shunned by most folks, and by his own son among others. It was his son who sailed to Iceland to-night."
"Iceland? Did you say Iceland?"
"Yes, Iceland. It is your own country, is it not? But he hadn't lived with his father since he was a child. He was brought up by my own dear father. It was he who seemed to be so like to you."
Jason stopped suddenly in the dark lane.
"What's the name?" he asked, hoarsely.
"The son's name? Michael."
"Michael what?"
"Michael Sunlocks."
Jason drew a long breath, and strode on without a word more. Very soon they were [outside] the little house in Port-y-Vullin.
Chalse was there before them, and he stood with the door ajar.