Then, with a sudden burst of recognition, the man stood revealed.

We had bathed together a hundred times in London and elsewhere.

The face, the clad figure, the dress, all were different.

But the body--the actual frame and make of the man--the well-knit limbs, the splendid trunk--no disguise could alter.

It was Le Geyt himself--big, powerful, vigorous.
That ill-made suit, those baggy knickerbockers, the slouched cap, the thin thread stockings, had only distorted and hidden his figure.