He wore a uniform of light blue and silver that clung to him and high boots of patent leather.

His waist was like a girl's, and, as though to show how supple he was, he kept continually bowing and shrugging his shoulders and in elegant protest gesticulating with his gloved hands.

He should have been a moving- picture actor.

He reminded me of Anthony Hope's fascinating but wicked Rupert of Hentzau.

He certainly was wicked, and I got to hate him as I never imagined it possible to hate anybody.