He pointed to Henry’s acquaintance of the previous day, who, with his hands in his pockets, was walking listlessly along on the other side of the road.
“You get back,” said the skipper hurriedly. “You’d better run a little, then these staring idiots ’ll follow you.”
The cook complied, and the curious, seeing that he appeared to be the more irrational of the two, and far more likely to get into mischief, set off in pursuit. The skipper crossed the road, and began gently to overtake his quarry.
He passed him, and looking back, regarded him unobserved. The likeness was unmistakable, and for a few seconds he kept on his way in doubt how to proceed. Then he stopped, and turning round, waited till the old man should come up to him.
“Good-morning,” he said pleasantly.
“Morning,” said the old man, half stopping.
“I’m in a bit of a difficulty,” said the skipper laughing. “I’ve got a message to deliver to a man in this place and I can’t find him. I wonder whether you could help me.”
“What’s his name?” asked the other.
“Captain Gething,” said the skipper.
The old man started, and his face changed to an unwholesome white. “I never heard of him,” he muttered, thickly, trying to pass on.