low the skirts of his overcoat; who had been discovered on the fourth
of June, with an air of reverential innocence, dressing the bronze
statue of King Henry VI. in a surplice in honor of the day. And now here
he was, and from his dress and the situation of his lodging-house to be
reckoned among the worst of the loafing class, and yet talking, with an
air of complete confidence and equality of a disreputable young
woman--his companion--who was to be rescued from a yet more disreputable
companion and restored to her parents in Chiswick.

And this was not all--for, as Mr. Parham-Carter informed me
himself--there was being impressed upon him during this interview a very
curious sensation, which he was hardly able, even after consideration,
to put into words--a sensation concerning the personality and presence
of this young man which he could only describe as making him feel
"beastly queer."

* * * * *

It seems to have been about this point that he first perceived it
clearly--distinguished it, that is to say, from the whole atmosphere of
startling and suggesting mystery that surrounded him.

He looked at Frank in silence a moment or two....

There Guiseley sat--leaning back in the red leather chair, his cocoa
still untouched. He was in a villainous suit that once, probably, had
been dark blue. The jacket was buttoned up to his chin, and a grimy
muffler surrounded his neck. His trousers were a great deal too short,
and disclosed above a yellow sock, on the leg nearest to him, about four
inches of dark-looking skin. His boots were heavy, patched, and entirely
uncleaned, and the upper toe-cap of one of them gaped from the leather
over the instep. His hands were deep in his pockets, as if even in this
warm room, he felt the cold.

There was nothing remarkable there. It was the kind of figure presented
by unsatisfactory candidates for the men's club. And yet there was about
him this air, arresting and rather disconcerting....

It was a sort of electric serenity, if I understand Mr. Parham-Carter
aright--a zone of perfectly still energy, like warmth or biting cold, as
of a charged force: it was like a real person standing motionless in
the middle of a picture. (Mr. Parham-Carter did not, of course, use such
beautiful similes as these; he employed the kind of language customary
to men who have received a public school and university education, half
slang and half childishness; but he waved hi