jutted out onto the waters of the lake, a crumbling structure slowly
blackening with time.

"Nope."

A shadow of a frown crossed the face of the stranger and was gone again
more quickly than a cloud shadow brushed over the window on a windy city
in March.

"Well," he said, "this place looks pretty good tome. Ever fish those
streams?"

"Don't eat fish."

"I'll wager you're missing some first-class trout, though. By Jove, I'd
like to cast a couple of times over some of the pools I've passed in the
last hour! By the way, who owns that house over there?"

"Same feller that owns this land."

"That so? What's his name?"

The other lifted his shaggy eyebrows and stared at the stranger.

"Ain't been long around here, eh?"

"No."

"William Drew, he owns that house."