Tell me frankly." "I'm quite sure," said I.
I have never been able to get over the curious embarrassment of talking to a man whose eyes I cannot see.

The black spectacles seemed to be like a wall behind which the man hid his thoughts.

I watched his lips.
Once or twice the odd little twitch had appeared at the corners.
Even with his baffling black spectacles he looked a gallant figure of a man.

He was precisely dressed in perfectly fitting dinner jacket and neat black tie; well-groomed from the points of his patent leather shoes to his trim crisp brown hair.

And beneath this scrupulousness of attire lay the suggestion of great strength.
Marigold brought in the tray with decanter, siphon and glasses, and put them on a table, together with cigars and cigarettes, by his side.
After a few deft touches, so as to identify the objects, Boyce smiled and nodded at Marigold.
"Thanks very much, Sergeant," he said.
If there is one thing Marigold loves, it is to be addressed as "Sergeant." "Marigold" might indicate a butler, but "Sergeant" means a sergeant.
"Perhaps I might fetch the Colonel a more comfortable chair, sir," said he.
But Boyce laughed, "No, no!" and Marigold left us.
Boyce's ear listened for the click of the door.