Aliens. William McFee
implicit in that "Ah!" In its way it was the most remarkable thing he had said.
"Yes, if you like," I replied. "I am professionally interested in stories."
He felt in his pocket for matches and as the flame spurted before his face I saw the corners of his mouth betrayed a pucker of amusement. I suddenly felt the absurdity of my position. I had been led to expose myself to ridicule. I might have expected it after the behaviour of his children.
For a moment I was warm!
"You see," he said, looking at his watch, "it's this way. I'm not a very good hand at yarns, but if you like I'll step along to-morrow some time and have a talk. I don't go back to the ship till Sunday night."
"We shall be charmed," I said. "Come in to tea."
"All right," he answered. "I will. It must be nearly eight bells, I should think, twelve o'clock."
I pointed to the Metropolitan Light, glowing a deep red. He regarded it with interest.
"Think o' that!" he said, absently. "Just think o' that. Eight bells!" He roused himself. "Well, good-night to you, sir. I must turn in. I always sleep best in the Middle Watch."
And he laughed as though at some flash of memory and made his way into the darkened house.
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