“No,” he said. “I said I had heard this man had made inquiries concerning me in Edenton?” “Ye’re sure it is you?” Not that the ground in North Carolina crawled with Claudels, but still … “I think so, yes.” Fergus spoke very softly, with an eye on Germain, who had started emitting soft croaks, evidently conversing with the frogs in his shirt. “The person who told me of this said that man had not only a name, but a small information, of sorts. That the Claudel Fraser he sought had been taken from Paris by a tall red-haired Scotsman. Named James Fraser. So I think you cannot speak to him, no.”
