One evening he was seated thus alone. Holmes, who had taken up his
quarters at the same hotel, was out, as usual. We say as usual because
Holmes seldom stayed in at night. Holmes was young, and for him the
"attractions" we have striven to enumerate above, and others which we
have not, were attractions. He liked to go the round. He liked to see
all there was to be seen. Well, he saw it.

One evening Laurence, seated thus alone, became aware that another man
was dragging a chair out upon the _stoep_, intending, like himself, to
take the air. Looking up, he saw that it was the man to whom nobody ever
seemed to talk, beyond exchanging the time of day, and that in the most
curt and perfunctory fashion. He had noticed, further, that this
individual seemed no more anxious to converse with other people than
they were to converse with him. He himself had never got beyond this
stage with him, although on easy and friendly terms with the other
people staying in the house.

Yet the man had awakened in him a strange interest, a curiosity that was
almost acute; but beyond the fact that his name was Hazon, and the
darkly veiled hints on the part of those who alluded to the subject,
that he was a ruffian of the deepest dye, Laurence could learn nothing
about him. He noted, however, that if the man seemed disliked, he seemed
about equally feared.

This Hazon was, in truth, somewhat of a remarkable individual. He was of
powerful build, standing about five feet nine. He had a strong,
good-looking face, the lower part hidden in a dark beard, and his eyes
were black, piercing, and rather deep set. The bronze hue of his
complexion, and of the sinewy hands, seemed to tell of a life of
hardness and adventure; and the square jaw and straight, piercing glance
was that of a man who, when roused, would prove a resolute, relentless,
and a most dangerous enemy. In repose the face wore a placidity which
was almost that of melancholy.

In trying to estimate his years, Laurence owned himself puzzled again
and again. He might be about his own age or he might be a great deal
older, that is, anything from forty to sixty. But whatever his age,
whatever his past, the man was always the same, dark, self-possessed,
coldly reticent, inscrutable, somewhat of an awe-inspiring personality.

The nature of his business, too, was no more open than was his past
history. He had been some months in his present quarters, yet was not
known to be doing anything in sc