"He was treated strangely by our people, and he treated them strangely
in return. Why is that?"

"Who can tell?"

"What is his station? Is he a common trader? He does not look it."

"He is a man of intelligence and daring."

"Then why is he not our guest?"

Galen Albret did not answer. After a moment's pause he asked again for
his tea. The girl turned away impatiently. Here was a puzzle, neither
the _voyageurs_, nor Wishkobun her nurse, nor her father would explain
to her. The first had grinned stupidly; the second had drawn her shawl
across her face, the third asked for tea!

She handed her father the cup, hesitated, then ventured to inquire
whether she was forbidden to greet the stranger should the occasion
arise.

"He is a gentleman," replied her father.

She sipped her tea thoughtfully, her imagination stirring. Again her
recollection lingered over the clear bronze lines of the stranger's
face. Something vaguely familiar seemed to touch her consciousness
with ghostly fingers. She closed her eyes and tried to clutch them. At
once they were withdrawn. And then again, when her attention wandered,
they stole back, plucking appealingly at the hem of her recollections.