'Never a word. And what do you make of that?' I pointed to a flat rock below tide-mark covered with a tangle of seaweed. It was of a softer stone than the hard stuff in the hills and somebody had scraped off half the seaweed and a slice of the side. 'That wasn't done yesterday morning, for I had my bath here.' Then followed a conversation in low tones, of which I only caught odd phrases. I heard two names--Chelius and what sounded like a Dutch word, Bommaerts. Then to my joy I caught _Elfenbein_, and when uttered it seemed to be followed by a laugh. I heard too a phrase several times repeated, which seemed to me to be pure gibberish--_Die Stubenvogel verstehn_. It was spoken by the man from the sea. And then the word _Wildvoegel_. The pair seemed demented about birds.
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