"Fine evening," he said.
"Is it?" asked Alaric, moodily.
"I think so. Do you belong on that sloop? Where does she run to from here?"
"The Sound," answered Alaric, shortly.
"What does she carry?"
"Passengers and cargo."
"Indeed? And may I ask what sort of a cargo?"
"You may."
"Well, then, what sort?" persisted the stranger.
"Chinks and dope," returned Alaric, glancing up with the expectation of seeing a look of bewilderment on his questioner's face. But the latter only said: