ut the most surprising change in him was his extreme thinness.
It made his great nose protrude more arrogantly;
it emphasized his cheekbones; it made his eyes seem larger.
There were deep hollows at his temples. His body was cadaverous.
He wore the same suit that I had seen him in five years
before; it was torn and stained, threadbare, and it hung
upon him loosely, as though it had been made for someone else.
I noticed his hands, dirty, with long nails; they were merely
bone and sinew, large and strong; but I had forgotten that
they were so shapely. He gave me an extraordinary impression
as he sat there, his attention riveted on his game -- an
impression of great strength; and I could not understand why
it was that his emaciation somehow made it more striking.

Presently, after moving, he leaned back and gazed with a
curious abstraction at his antagonist. This was a fat,
bearded Frenchman. The Frenchman considered the position,
then broke suddenly into jovial expletives, and with an
impatient gesture, gathering up the pieces, flung them into
their box. He cursed Strickland freely, then, calling for the
waiter, paid for the drinks, and left. Stroeve drew his chair
closer to the table.

"Now I suppose we can talk," he said.

Strickland's eyes rested on him, and there was in them a
malicious expression. I felt sure he was seeking for some gibe,
could think of none, and so was forced to silence.

"I've brought an old friend to see you," repeated Stroeve,
beaming cheerfully.

Strickland looked at me thoughtfully for nearly a minute.
I did not speak.

"I've never seen him in my life," he said.

I do not know why he said this, for I felt certain I had
caught a gleam of recognition in his eyes. I was not so
easily abashed as I had been some years earlier.

"I saw your wife the other day," I said. "I felt sure you'd
like to have the latest news of her."

He gave a short laugh. His eyes twinkled.

"We had a jolly evening together," he said. "How long ago is it?"

"Five years."

He called for another absinthe. Stroeve, with voluble tongue,
explained how he and I had met, and by what an accident we
discovered that we both knew Strickland. I do not know if
Strickland listened. He glanced at me once or twice
reflectively, but for the most part seemed occupied with his
own thoughts; and certainly without Stroeve's babble the
conversation would have been difficult. In half an hour the
Dutchman, lookin