There was no reason why he should not care to meet the Master Man, but he always had an uncanny feeling when his eye met that of Ingolby.

His apprehension had no foundation in any knowledge, yet he had felt that Ingolby had no love for him, and this disturbed the egregious vanity of a narrow nature.

His slouching, corpulent figure made an effort to resist the gesture with which Ingolby drew him to the door, but his will succumbed, and he shuffled importantly into the other room.
Ingolby shut the door quietly behind him, and motioned the minister to a chair beside the table.

Tripple sank down, mechanically smiling, placed his hat on the floor, and rested his hands on the table.

Ingolby could not help but notice how coarse the hands were--with fingers suddenly ending as though they had been cut off, and puffy, yellowish skin that suggested fat foods, or worse.
Ingolby came to grips at once.