"A few."
"Didst ever come across one Gilbert Fane?"
"Well, now," I answered, smiling, "'tis not unusual for one to come across one's father, is it?"
At that the fellow gave a little start.
"What!" says he. "Your father! He is alive, then?"
"Aye, truly, that he is," I answered, laughing. "At least, he was an hour ago."
"Well, well, now, just to think of it!" he murmured, rubbing his chin as though in deep perplexity. "Save us! 'tis strange, indeed!"
"How so?" I asked. "Dost know my father?"
"Nay, that I do not; but 'tis passing strange that I should meet his son upon this road and tell him what I have."
"How so?" I asked again. "What mystery is this?"