He barely looked at us.

"Full up," he said and shut the door.
"Another night of it," groaned the Carpenter.

In the dim light the Carter looked wan and grey.
Indiscriminate charity is vicious, say the professional philanthropists.
Well, I resolved to be vicious.
"Come on; get your knife out and come here," I said to the Carter, drawing him into a dark alley.
He glared at me in a frightened manner, and tried to draw back.

Possibly he took me for a latter-day Jack-the-Ripper, with a penchant for elderly male paupers.

Or he may have thought I was inveigling him into the commission of some desperate crime.