There were a number of wooden chairs, and a table, and several great black oaken chests curiously carved, and a great rack hanging from the roof, on which I saw hams, and guns, and tarpaulin hats, and oars, and coils of rope.

The far end of the room was dark to one coming in out of the sunshine, but, in some way, and I can hardly tell how, it seemed to me that when the winter gales screamed over Brecqhou that would be a very comfortable room to live in.
I could still see no one, till the voice cried out at sight of me-- "Now, who in the name of Satan are you, and what do you want here ?" And then, in a ship's bunk at the far end of the room, I saw a face lifted up and scowling at me.
It was the face of a young man, and but for the black scowl on it, and a white cloth tied round above the scowl, it might have been good-looking, for all the Le Marchants were that.
"I'm Phil Carre," I faltered.

"I've come to look for Carette." And at that, Carette's voice came, like a silver pipe, from some hidden place-- "Phil, mon p'tit, is that you?
I'm here, but you mustn't come in.

I'm in bed.

I've got measles.