Bruff. If he
can't help me----"
"Yes, sir?"
"And if the Sergeant won't leave his retirement at Dorking----"
"He won't, Mr. Franklin!"
"Then, Betteredge--as far as I can see now--I am at the end of my
resources. After Mr. Bruff and the Sergeant, I don't know of a living
creature who can be of the slightest use to me."
As the words passed my lips, some person outside knocked at the door of
the room.
Betteredge looked surprised as well as annoyed by the interruption.
"Come in," he called out, irritably, "whoever you are!"
The door opened, and there entered to us, quietly, the most
remarkable-looking man that I had ever seen. Judging him by his figure
and his movements, he was still young. Judging him by his face, and
comparing him with Betteredge, he looked the elder of the two. His
complexion was of a gipsy darkness; his fleshless cheeks had fallen into
deep hollows, over which the bone projected like a pent-house. His nose
presented the fine shape and modelling so often found among the ancient
people of the East, so seldom visible among the newer races of the
West. His forehead rose high and straight from the brow.
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