"To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. Of course he hadn't played the game wisely. Lucy inhaled deeply. "We'll see," returned the thief-taker. Sir Rowland laid his hand upon his sword.
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