White Baldwin, with his mother and sister, had driven away in a cart, leaving their tenantless house with closed doors and tightly shuttered windows.
Cabot Grant, with hands thrust into his trousers pockets, leaned against a wharf post and surveyed the oncoming launch with languid curiosity.

The Yankee schooner swung gracefully at her moorings, and from her a boat was pulling towards shore; while on the deck of the "Sea Bee," also anchored in the stream, David Gidge placidly smoked a pipe.
The launch slowed down as it neared him, and an officer inquired in the crisp tones of authority: "What place is this ?" Deliberately taking the pipe from his mouth, and looking about him as though to refresh his memory, Mr.Gidge answered: "I've heard it called by a number of names." "Was one of them Pretty Harbour ?" "Now that you mention it, I believe it were." "What kind of a building is that ?" continued the officer, sharply, pointing to the factory as he spoke.
David gazed at the building with interest, as though now seeing it for the first time.
"Looks to me like a barn," he said at length.

"Same time it might be a church, though I don't reckon it is." "Isn't it a lobster factory ?" "They might make lobsters in it, but I don't think they does.

Mebbe that young man on the wharf could tell ye.

He looks knowing." Disgusted at this exhibition of stupidity, and muttering something about a chuckle-headed idiot, the officer motioned for his launch to move ahead, and, in another minute, it lay alongside the wharf.
"Is this the Pretty Harbour lobster factory ?" demanded the officer as he stepped ashore.
"I believe it was formerly used as a lobster cannery," replied Cabot, guardedly, "but no business of the kind is being carried on here at present." "It is owned by the family of the late William Baldwin, is it not ?" "No, sir." "Who then does own the property ?" "I do." "You!" exclaimed the officer.