Captain Marmaduke, ''twas a lusty push, and cleared your
course, certainly. Well, well, I like you the better, lad, for not being
lightly balked in your business.' And therewith he led me into the
Dolphin.

There was a sea-coal fire in the grate, for the day was raw and the glow
welcome. Beside the fire an elderly gentleman sat in an arm-chair. He
had a black silk skull-cap on his head, and his face was wrinkled and
his eyes were bright, and his face, now turned upon me, showed harsh. I
knew of course that he was Lancelot's other uncle, he who would never
suffer that I should set foot within his gates. Indeed, his face in many
points resembled that of his brother--as much as an ugly face can
resemble a fair one. There was a likeness in the forehead and there was
a likeness in the eyes, which were something of the same china-blue
colour, though of a lighter shade, and with only cold unkindness there
instead of the genial kindness of the Captain's.

A man stood on the other side of the open fireplace, a man of about
forty-five, of something over the middle height and marvellously
well-built. He was clad in what, though it was not distinctly a seaman's
habit, yet suggested the ways of the sea, and there was a kind of
foppishness about his rig which set me wondering, for I was used to a
slovenly squalor or a slovenly bravery in the sailors I knew most of.
He was a handsome fellow, with dark curling hair and dark eyes, and a
dark skin that seemed Italian.

I have heard men say that there is no art to read the mind's complexion
in the face. These fellows pretend that your villain is often
smooth-faced as well as smooth-tongued, and pleases the eye to the
benefit of his mischievous ends. Whereas, on the other hand, many an
honest fellow is damned for a scoundrel because with the nature of an
angel he has the mask of a fiend. In which two fancies I have no belief.
A rogue is a rogue all the world over, and flies his flag in his face
for those who can read the bunting. He may flatter the light eye or the
cold eye, but the warm gaze will find some lurking line by the lip, some
wryness of feature, some twist of the devil's fingers in his face, to
betray him. And as for an honest man looking like a rogue, the thing is
impossible. I have seen no small matter of marvels in my time--even, as
I think, the great sea serpent himself, though this is not the time and
place to record it--but I have never seen the marvel of a good man with