“His voice, sir. I knew his voice, which is kind o’ thick and foggy. He tapped at the winder⁠—about three it would be. ‘Show a leg, matey,’ says he: ‘time to turn out guard.’ My old man woke up Jim⁠—that’s my eldest⁠—and away they went, without so much as a word to me. I could hear the wooden leg clackin’ on the stones.”

“And was this wooden-legged man alone?”

“Couldn’t say, I am sure, sir. I didn’t hear no one else.”

“I am sorry, Mrs. Smith, for I wanted a steam launch, and I have heard good reports of the⁠—Let me see, what is her name?”

“The Aurora , sir.”

“Ah! She’s not that old green launch with a yellow line, very broad in the beam?”