When Evan met his eyes, they showed perplexity.

Evan felt he was being examined from head to heel, but by one unaccustomed to his part, and without the courage to decide what he ought consequently to do while a doubt remained, though his inspection was verging towards a certainty in his mind.
At last, somewhat annoyed that the man should continue to dog him wherever he moved, he turned on him and asked him what he wanted?
'Be you a Muster Eav'n Harrington, Esquire ?' the man drawled out in the rustic music of inquiry.
'That is my name,' said Evan.
'Ay,' returned the man, 'it's somebody lookin' like a lord, and has a small friend wi' shockin' old hat, and I see ye come out o' the Green Drag'n this mornin'-- I don't reck'n there's e'er a mistaak, but I likes to make cock sure.

Be you been to Poortigal, sir ?' 'Yes,' answered Evan, 'I have been to Poortigal.' 'What's the name o' the capital o' Portugal, sir ?' The man looked immensely shrewd, and nodding his consent at the laughing reply, added: 'And there you was born, sir?
You'll excuse my boldness, but I only does what's necessary.' Evan said he was not born there.
'No, not born there.

That's good.

Now, sir, did you happen to be born anywheres within smell o' salt water ?' 'Yes,' answered Evan, 'I was born by the sea.' 'Not far beyond fifty mile from Fall'field here, sir ?' 'Something less.' 'All right.