He may be fifty-five, or getting on for sixty.

Now, isn't that near enough?
Oh--and I'm almost sure that he's a traveller." "H'm," pondered Lubin, leaning on his broom reflectively.

"Well, yes, I did see a sort of elderly gentleman some three or four weeks ago, standing at the bar o' the 'Coach-and-Horses.' What his age might be I couldn't exactly say, 'cause he was having a drink with his back turned to the door.

But he was a traveller, that I know." "A traveller?
I wonder whether that was the one!" exclaimed Austin.
"Had he a dark-brown face?
Or a wooden leg?
Or a scar down one of his cheeks ?" "Not as I see," answered Lubin, beginning to sweep the lawn.

"But a traveller he was, because the barmaid told me so.