"Don't you?" he said.
"No," said I. "Not a groat!"
"So it seems," he said again, as if that settled the matter. "Well, then what is your name?"
"Charles Taylor," I answered.
"And you come from that old rogue Ferg--R. F., I mean?"
"Yes."
"Well then you can go back to him," he said, dismissing me with a nod. "Or wait. Did you know that gentleman, my friend?"
"Which?" said I.
"The tall one."
"Not from Adam," I said.