smoking…room。　　He　was　sitting　there　in　absolute　immobility；　which
  was　really　fakir…like　and　impressive。　　I　began　to　wonder　what　could
  be　the　associations　of　that　sort　of　man；　his　〃milieu；〃　his　private
  connections；　his　views；　his　morality；　his　friends；　and　even　his
  wife　…　when　to　my　surprise　he　opened　a　conversation　in　a　deep；
  muttering　voice。
  I　must　say　that　since　he　had　learned　from　somebody　that　I　was　a
  writer　of　stories　he　had　been　acknowledging　my　existence　by　means
  of　some　vague　growls　in　the　morning。
  He　was　essentially　a　taciturn　man。　　There　was　an　effect　of　rudeness
  in　his　fragmentary　sentences。　　It　was　some　time　before　I　discovered
  that　what　he　would　be　at　was　the　process　by　which　stories　…　stories
  for　periodicals　…　were　produced。
  What　could　one　say　to　a　fellow　like　that？　　But　I　was　bored　to
  death；　the　weather　continued　impossible；　and　I　resolved　to　be
  amiable。
  〃And　so　you　make　these　tales　up　on　your　own。　　How　do　they　ever　come
  into　your　head？〃　he　rumbled。
  I　explained　that　one　generally　got　a　hint　for　a　tale。
  〃What　sort　of　hint？〃
  〃Well；　for　instance；〃　I　said；　〃I　got　myself　rowed　out　to　the　rocks
  the　other　day。　　My　boatman　told　me　of　the　wreck　on　these　rocks
  nearly　twenty　years　ago。　　That　could　be　used　as　a　hint　for　a　mainly
  descriptive　bit　of　story　with　some　such　title　as　'In　the　Channel；'
  for　instance。〃
  It　was　then　that　he　flew　out　at　the　boatmen　and　the　summer　visitors
  who　listen　to　their　tales。　　Without　moving　a　muscle　of　his　face　he
  emitted　a　powerful　〃Rot；〃　from　somewhere　out　of　the　depths　of　his
  chest；　and　went　on　in　his　hoarse；　fragmentary　mumble。　　〃Stare　at
  the　silly　rocks　…　nod　their　silly　heads　＇the　visitors；　I　presume＇。
  What　do　they　think　a　man　is　…　blown…out　paper　bag　or　what？　…　go　off
  pop　like　that　when　he's　hit　…　Damn　silly　yarn　…　Hint　indeed！　。　。　。
  A　lie？〃
  You　must　imagine　this　statuesque　ruffian　enhaloed　in　the　black　rim
  of　his　hat；　letting　all　this　out　as　an　old　dog　growls　sometimes；
  with　his　head　up　and　staring…away　eyes。
  〃Indeed！〃　I　exclaimed。　　〃Well；　but　even　if　untrue　it　IS　a　hint；
  enabling　me　to　see　these　rocks；　this　gale　they　speak　of；　the　heavy
  seas；　etc。；　etc。；　in　relation　to　mankind。　　The　struggle　against
  natural　forces　and　the　effect　of　the　issue　on　at　least　one；　say；
  exalted　…　〃
  He　interrupted　me　by　an　aggressive　…
  〃Would　truth　be　any　good　to　you？〃
  〃I　shouldn't　like　to　say；〃　I　answered；　cautiously。　　〃It's　said　that
  truth　is　stranger　than　fiction。〃
  〃Who　says　that？〃　he　mouthed。
  〃Oh！　　Nobody　in　particular。〃
  I　turned　to　the　window；　for　the　contemptuous　beggar　was　oppressive
  to　look　at；　with　his　immovable　arm　on　the　table。　　I　suppose　my
  unceremonious　manner　provoked　him　to　a　comparatively　long　speech。
  〃Did　you　ever　see　such　a　silly　lot　of　rocks？　　Like　plums　in　a　slice
  of　cold　pudding。〃
  I　was　looking　at　them　…　an　acre　or　more　of　black　dots　scattered　on
  the　steel…grey　shades　of　the　level　sea；　under　the　uniform　gossamer
  grey　mist　with　a　formless　brighter　patch　in　one　place　…　the　veiled
  whiteness　of　the　cliff　coming　through；　like　a　diffused；　mysterious
  radiance。　　It　was　a　delicate　and　wonderful　picture；　something
  expressive；　suggestive；　and　desolate；　a　symphony　in　grey　and　black
  …　a　Whistler。　　But　the　next　thing　said　by　the　voice　behind　me　made
  me　turn　round。　　It　growled　out　contempt　for　all　associated　notions
  of　roaring　seas　with　concise　energy；　then　went　on　…
  〃I　…　no　such　foolishness　…　looking　at　the　rocks　out　there　…　more
  likely　call　to　mind　an　office　…　I　used　to　look　in　sometimes　at　one
  time　…　office　in　London　…　one　of　them　small　streets　behind　Cannon
  Street　Station。　。　。　〃
  He　was　very　deliberate；　not　jerky；　only　fragmentary；　at　times
  profane。
  〃That's　a　rather　remote　connection；〃　I　observed；　approaching　him。
  〃Connection？　　To　Hades　with　your　connections。　　It　was　an　accident。〃
  〃Still；〃　I　said；　〃an　accident　has　its　backward　and　forward
  connections；　which；　if　they　could　be　set　forth　…　〃
  Without　moving　he　seemed　to　lend　an　attentive　ear。
  〃Aye！　　Set　forth。　　That's　perhaps　what　you　could　do。　　Couldn't　you
  now？　　There's　no　sea　life　in　this　connection。　　But　you　can　put　it
  in　out　of　your　head　…　if　you　like。〃
  〃Yes。　　I　could；　if　necessary；〃　I　said。　　〃Sometimes　it　pays　to　put
  in　a　lot　out　of　one's　head；　and　sometimes　it　doesn't。　　I　mean　that
  the　story　isn't　worth　it。　　Everything's　in　that。〃
  It　amused　me　to　talk　to　him　like　this。　　He　reflected　audibly　that
  he　guessed　story…writers　were　out　after　money　like　the　rest　of　the
  world　which　had　to　live　by　its　wits：　　and　that　it　was　extraordinary
  how　far　people　who　were　out　after　money　would　go。　。　。　Some　of　them。
  Then　he　made　a　sally　against　sea　life。　　Silly　sort　of　life；　he
  called　it。　　No　opportunities；　no　experience；　no　variety；　nothing。
  Some　fine　men　came　out　of　it　…　he　admitted　…　but　no　more　chance　in
  the　world　if　put　to　it　than　fly。　　Kids。　　So　Captain　Harry　Dunbar。
  Good　sailor。　　Great　name　as　a　skipper。　　Big　man；　short　side…
  whiskers　going　grey；　fine　face；　loud　voice。　　A　good　fellow；　but　no
  more　up　to　people's　tricks　than　a　baby。
  〃That's　the　captain　of　the　Sagamore　you're　talking　about；〃　I　said；
  confidently。
  After　a　low；　scornful　〃Of　course〃　he　seemed　now　to　hold　on　the　wall
  with　his　fixed　stare　the　vision　of　that　city　office；　〃at　the　back
  of　Cannon　Street　Station；〃　while　he　growled　and　mouthed　a
  fragmentary　description；　jerking　his　chin　up　now　and　then；　as　if
  angry。
  It　was；　according　to　his　account；　a　modest　place　of　business；　not
  shady　in　any　sense；　but　out　of　the　way；　in　a　small　street　now
  rebuilt　from　end　to　end。　　〃Seven　doors　from　the　Cheshire　Cat　public
  house　under　the　railway　bridge。　　I　used　to　take　my　lunch　there　when
  my　business　called　me　to　the　city。　　Cloete　would　come　in　to　have
  his　chop　and　make　the　girl　laugh。　　No　need　to　talk　much；　either；
  for　that。　　Nothing　but　the　way　he　would　twinkle　his　spectacles　on
  you　and　give　a　twitch　of　his　thick　mouth　was　enough　to　start　you
  off　before　he　began　one　of　his　little　tales。　　Funny　fellow；　Cloete。
  C…l…o…e…t…e　…　Cloete。〃
  〃What　was　he　…　a　Dutchman？〃　I　asked；　not　seeing　in　the　least　what
  all　this　had　to　do　with　the　Westport　boatmen　and　the　Westport
  summer　visitors　and　this　extraordinary　old　fellow's　irritable　view
  of　them　as　liars　and　fools。　　〃Devil　knows；〃　he　grunted；　his　eyes　on
  the　wall　as　if　not　to　miss　a　single　movement　of　a　cinematograph
  picture。　　〃Spoke　nothing　but　English；　anyway。　　First　I　saw　him　…
  comes　off　a　ship　in　dock　from　the　States　…　passenger。　　Asks　me　for
  a　small　hotel　near　by。　　Wanted　to　be　quiet　and　have　a　look　round
  for　a　few　days。　　I　took　him　to　a　place　…　friend　of　mine。　。　。　Next
  time　…　in　the　City　…　Hallo！　　You're　very　obliging　…　have　a　drink。
  Talks　plenty　about　himself。　　Been　years　in　the　States。　　All　sorts
  of　business　all　over　the　place。　　With　some　patent　medicine　people；
  too。　　Travels。　　Writes　advertisements　and　all　that。　　Tells　me　funny
  stories。　　Tall；　loose…limbed　fellow。　　Black　hair　up　on　end；　like　a
  brush；　long　face；　long　legs；　long　arms；　twinkle　in　his　specs；
  jocular　way　of　speaking　…　in　a　low　voice。　。　。　See　that？〃
  I　nodded；　but　he　was　not　looking　at　me。
  〃Never　laughed　so　much　in　my　life。　　The　beggar　…　would　make　you
  laugh　telling　you　how　he　skinned　his　own　father。　　He　was　up　to
  that；　too。　　A　man　who's　been　in　the　patent…medicine　trade　will　be
  up　to　anything　from　pitch…and…toss　to　wilful　murder。　　And　that's　a
  bit　of　hard　truth　for　you。　　Don't　mind　what　they　do　…　think　they
  can　carry　off　anything　and　talk　themselves　out　of　anything　…　all
  the　world's　a　fool　to　them。　　Business　man；　too；　Cloete。　　Came　over
  with　a　few　hundred　pounds。　　Looking　for　something　to　do　…　in　a
  quiet　way。　　Nothing　like　the　old　country；　after　all；　says　he。　。　。
  And　so　we　part　…　I　with　more　drinks　in　me　than　I　was　used　to。
  After　a　time；　perhaps　six　months　or　so；　I　run　up　against　him　again
  in　Mr。　George　Dunbar's　office。　　Yes；　THAT　office。　　It　wasn't　often
  that　I　。　。　。　However；　there　was　a　bit　of　his　cargo　in　a　ship　in
  dock　that　I　wanted　to　ask　Mr。　George　about。　　In　comes　Cloete　out　of
  the　room　at　the　back　with　some　papers　in　his　hand。　　Partner。　　You
  understand？〃
  〃Aha！〃　I　said。　　〃The　few　hundred　pounds。〃
  〃And　that　tongue　of　his；〃　he　growled。　　〃Don't　forget　that　tongue。
  Some　of　his　tales　must　have　opened　George　Dunbar's　eyes　a　bit　as　to
  what　business　means。〃
  〃A　plausible　fellow；〃　I　suggested。
  〃H'm！　　You　must　have　it　in　your　own　way　…　of　course。　　Well。
  Partner。　　George　Dunbar　puts　his　top…hat　on　a