beard looked quite false on him, stuck on for a disguise. You said just
now he resembled Socrates--didn't you? I don't know about that. This
Socrates was a wise man, I believe?"

"He was," assented Marlow. "And a true friend of youth. He lectured
them in a peculiarly exasperating manner. It was a way he had."

"Then give me Powell every time," declared our new acquaintance sturdily.
"He didn't lecture me in any way. Not he. He said: 'How do you do?'
quite kindly to my mumble. Then says he looking very hard at me: 'I
don't think I know you--do I?'

"No, sir," I said and down went my heart sliding into my boots, just as
the time had come to summon up all my cheek. There's nothing meaner in
the world than a piece of impudence that isn't carried off well. For
fear of appearing shamefaced I started about it so free and easy as
almost to frighten myself. He listened for a while looking at my face
with surprise and curiosity and then held up his hand. I was glad enough
to shut up, I can tell you.

"Well, you are a cool hand," says he. "And that friend of yours too. He
pestered me coming here every day for a fortnight till a captain I'm
acquainted with was good enough to give him a berth. And no sooner he's
provided for than he turns you on. You youngsters don't seem to mind
whom you get into trouble."

"It was my turn now to stare with surprise and curiosity. He hadn't been
talking loud but he lowered his voice still more.

"Don't you know it's illegal?"