“I cannot say that I am unacquainted with your name, for I have just heard it mentioned, and I shall be glad to hear that you can give me the assurance that the young man has not been carried away,” said Headland.
“I know nothing about the matter,” answered Gaffin, “so I cannot tell whether the story I have heard is true or not. You, at all events, see, sir, that I am not on board the lugger, which I hear left the coast some hours ago. But I must again beg your pardon, and ask you to answer the question I put when I first had the honour of addressing you.”
“I am a commander in his Majesty’s service, and you must rest satisfied with that answer, sir,” said Headland, not feeling disposed to be more communicative to his suspicious questioner.
“Were you ever in the Indian seas in your younger days, sir? You will believe me that it is not idle curiosity that makes me put the question,” said Gaffin, in the blandest tone he could assume.
“You are right in your supposition,” said Headland, his own curiosity somewhat excited by the question.
“And you were known as Jack Headland when a boy.”
“I was.”
“And you took that name from another to whom it properly belonged.”
“I did. Can you tell me anything of him?” said Headland, eagerly.
“I wish to ask that question of you, sir,” replied Gaffin. “He was an old shipmate of mine, and being struck by hearing your name, I thought there might be some connection. I have long lost sight of him, and should have been glad to hear that he was alive and well.”