Confident, too, excessively so in the circumstances. Rufus eyed him. “Stop me if I’m wrong, Doomsday, but I understand you bear a name of some notoriety on Romney Marsh. I hear your family are a pack of smugglers.” “Were,” Doomsday said calmly. He was well spoken, without the thick accent of this part of Kent. “There is some history to the family, but they operate as respectable traders these days.” “Moral reformation?” Rufus suggested sarcastically. “Lower taxes,” Doomsday retorted. “It makes all the difference.
