I did recognize Blome in spite of his mask, because his fair skin and hair, his garb and air of distinction made plain his identity.

They all wore coats, hiding any weapons.

The big man with burly shoulders shook hands with Sampson and the others stood back.
The atmosphere of that room had changed.

Wright might have been a nonentity for all he counted.

Sampson was another man--a stranger to me.
If he had entertained a hope of freeing himself from his band, of getting away to a safer country, he abandoned it at the very sight of these men.