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She had noticed the man: a big fine fellow, well dressed, a stranger. But he spoke with that Cornish-Yankee accent she accepted as the natural twang among the miners. The stranger put his foot on the fender and looked into the fire. He was handsome, well coloured, with well-drawn Cornish eyebrows, and the usual dark, bright, mindless Cornish eyes. He seemed abstracted in thought.
The stranger turned round in his seat, and his quick-moving, dark, jewel-like eyes went from the sergeant to the landlady. 'I'm stopping here tonight, he said, in his laconic Cornish-Yankee accent. The landlady seemed to tower. Her eyes lifted strangely, frightening. 'Oh! indeed! she cried. Oh, indeed! And whose orders are those, may I ask? He looked at her again. 'My orders, he said.
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