thedetailsofafacewhichwasalreadyfamiliartomefrommanyphotographs—thestrongly-curvednose,thehollow,worncheeks,thedark,ruddyhair,thinatthetop,thecrisp,virilemoustaches,thesmall,aggressivetuftuponhisprojectingchin.SomethingtherewasofNapoleonIII.,somethingofDonQuixote,andyetagainsomethingwhichwastheessenceoftheEnglishcountrygentleman,thekeen,alert,open-airloverofdogsandofhorses.Hisskinwasofarichflower-potredfromsunandwind.Hiseyebrowsweretuftedandoverhanging,whichgavethosenaturallycoldeyesanalmostferociousaspect,animpressionwhichwasincreasedbyhisstrongandfurrowedbrow.Infigurehewasspare,butverystronglybuilt—indeed,hehadoftenprovedthattherewerefewmeninEnglandcapableofsuchsustainedexertions.Hisheightwasalittleoversixfeet,butheseemedshorteronaccountofapeculiarroundingoftheshoulders.SuchwasthefamousLordJohnRoxtonashesatoppositetome,bitingharduponhiscigarandwatchingmesteadilyinalongandembarrassingsilence.
"Well,"saidhe,atlast,"we'vegoneanddoneit,youngfellahmylad."(Thiscuriousphrasehepronouncedasifitwerealloneword—"young-fellah-me-lad.")"Yes,we'vetakenajump,youan'me.Isuppose,now,whenyouwentintothatroomtherewasnosuchnotioninyourhead—what?"
"Nothoughtofit."
"Thesamehere.Nothoughtofit.Andhereweare,uptoournecksinthetureen.Why,I'veonlybeenbackthreeweeksfromUganda,andtakenaplaceinScotland,andsignedtheleaseandall.Prettygoin'son—what?Howdoesithityou?"
"Well,itisallinthemainlineofmybusiness.IamajournalistontheGazette."
"Ofcourse—yousaidsowhenyoutookiton.Bytheway,I'vegotasmalljobforyou,ifyou'llhelpme."
"Withpleasure."
"Don'tmindtakin'arisk,doyou?"
"Whatistherisk?"
"Well,it'sBallinger—he'stherisk.You'veheardofhim?"
"No."
"Why,youngfellah,whereHAVEyoulived?SirJohnBallingeristhebestgentlemanjockinthenorthcountry.Icouldholdhimontheflatatmybest,butoverjumpshe'smymaster.Well,it'sanopensecretthatwhenhe'soutoftrainin'hedrinkshard—strikin'anaverage,hecallsit.HegotdeliriumonToos