"But--they're far from silent.
That waistcoat--" He stopped and gave me another nervous, timid look. He
found it hard to believe a man of my sort, so self-assured, would stand the
truth from a man of his second-fiddle sort.
"Go on!" I commanded. "Speak out! Mowbray Langdon had on one twice as loud
the other day at the track."
"But, perhaps you'll remember, it was only his waistcoat that was loud--not
he himself. Now, a man of your manner and voice and--you've got a look out
of the eyes that'd wake the dead all by itself. People can feel you coming
before they hear you. When they feel and hear and see all together--it's
like a brass band in scarlet uniform, with a seven-foot, sky-blue drum
major. If your hair wasn't so black and your eyes so steel-blue and sharp,
and your teeth so big and strong and white, and your jaw such a--such
a--_jaw_--"
"I see the point," said I. And I did. "You'll find you won't need to tell
me many things twice. I've got a busy day before me here; so we'll have
to suspend this until you come to dine with me at eight--at my rooms.
I want you to put in the time well. Go to my house in the country and
then up to my apartment; take my valet with you; look through all my
belongings--shirts, ties, socks, trousers, waistcoats, clothes of every
kind.
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