moved a little nearer to us; his companion, hands in pockets, but watchful enough, lounged after him.
"Well, sir?" said Baxter, lifting his cap as he glanced at Miss Raven. "Don't think me too abrupt, nor intentionally rude, if I ask you what you and this young lady are doing here?"
His voice was that of a man of education and even of refinement, and his tone polite enough; there was something of apology in it. But it was also sharp, business-like, compelling; I saw at once that this was a man whose character was essentially matter-of-fact, and who would not allow himself to stick at trifles, and I judged it best to be plain in my answer.
"If you really want to know," I replied, "we are here by sheer accident. Exploring the wood for the mere fun of the thing, we chanced upon these ruins and have been examining them, that's all?"
"You didn't come here with any set purpose?" he asked, looking from one to the other. "You weren't seeking this place?"
"Certainly not!" said I. "We hadn't the faintest notion that such a place was to be found."
"But here it is, anyway," he said. "And—there you are! In the possession of the knowledge of it. And so—you'll excuse me—I must ask a question. Who are you? Tourists? Or—do you live hereabouts?"
The other man made a remark under his breath, in some foreign language, eyeing me the while. And Baxter spoke again watching me.
"I think you, at any rate, are a resident?" he said. "My friend has seen you before in these parts."
