On the hand that toyed carelessly with the fob of his watch flashed a diamond; another sparkled in his cravat.

His dark hair was sleek and well brushed; his bristly little moustache was clipped in the latest fashion.

He was not large.

His hands, as he made a gesture toward Quade, were of womanish whiteness.

Casually, on the street or in a Pullman, Aldous would have taken him for a gentleman.
Now, as he stared through the narrow slit between the bottom of the curtain and the sill, he knew that he was looking upon one of the most dangerous men in all the West.