He had a pointed beard shot with grey.

He talked to an elderly man who wore a summer suit of drill (the summer of that year was unusually hot).

This was Warming, a London solicitor and next of kin to Graham, the man who had fallen into the trance.

And the two men stood side by side in a room in a house in London regarding his recumbent figure.
It was a yellow figure lying lax upon a water-bed and clad in a flowing shirt, a figure with a shrunken face and a stubby beard, lean limbs and lank nails, and about it was a case of thin glass.

This glass seemed to mark off the sleeper from the reality of life about him, he was a thing apart, a strange, isolated abnormality.