Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. Then she passed from the room on the arm of General Lord Charvill, chatting animatedly to him. Sir Rowland then fell. ” “I am your friend,” he said slowly, “whatever you may have to tell me. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. Perhaps at the first blush—it strikes you as odd. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. ” The stranger came over to them smiling. He had nothing more to say either to her or to Spurlock. She had come across the wicked South Seas which were still infested with cannibals; she had seen drunkenness and called men beachcombers; who was this moment as innocent as a babe, and in the next uttered some bitter wisdom it had taken a thousand years of philosophy to evolve. " "Bless you! bless you!" cried Mrs.
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