e taxi turned into the station yard from the Euston Road, Anthony
Barraclough unobtrusively opened the offside door and dropped into the
street. A pantechnicon concealed the manoeuvre from the traffic that
followed. His taxi driver was blissfully unaware of his departure. It
would seem a mean thing to have done but Barraclough had pinned a
Bradbury to the vacated seat as a tacit apology.

On landing in the street he wasted no time and nipped very neatly into
the open back of the pantechnicon. Here he concealed himself until a
stream of a dozen taxis had passed by, and in the pleasant straw
smelling shadows Anthony Barraclough grew a beard in precisely half a
minute by the clock, and a moustache in even less time. It was a nice
beard and a nice moustache, but even so it did not improve his
appearance. He was much better looking without. If you doubt the
statement here is an official report of his looks and bearing, by means
of which you may judge for yourself.

Height, about five feet nine. Age, thirty-four. Hair, dark with a
disposition to wave. Eyes, brown and set wide apart. Well marked
brows. Nose of medium length and slightly crooked to the left Short
upper lip. Firm mouth with an upward twist at the corners. A strong
square chin. A habit of holding the head slightly at an angle. Quick
way of speaking. Walks with a springy step. Stands with one hand on
his left hip.

Compare this description with one printed in the foregoing chapter and
a certain peculiar resemblance may suggest itself. The absence of the
word 'merry' in the latter as applied to the eyes must not be mistaken
for a careless omission, but rather as a piece of keen observation in
physiognomy. These things are very important.

Having pressed his cheeks until the wax warmed and adhered, Anthony
Barraclough threw a leg over the tailboard and alighted on the
pavement. Scarcely a soul bothered to glance his way. At a smart walk
he made for the tube station, bought a ticket at the twopenny machine
and entered the lift. In the passages below he made a circular tour,
entered an ascending lift and reappeared in the street. A 'bus was
passing which he entered and travelled in for a few hundred yards.
Then he got out and hailed a taxi and two minutes later was at the
booking office of St. Pancras Station. As he was reaching for his note
case a man in the queue behind him observed, vaguely, as though
addressing the air:

"Pity to was