He shook hands silently, hung his hat in the passage, and came forward into the study.
His name was Harold Biffen, and, to judge from his appearance, he did not belong to the race of common mortals.

His excessive meagreness would all but have qualified him to enter an exhibition in the capacity of living skeleton, and the garments which hung upon this framework would perhaps have sold for three-and-sixpence at an old-clothes dealer's.

But the man was superior to these accidents of flesh and raiment.

He had a fine face: large, gentle eyes, nose slightly aquiline, small and delicate mouth.

Thick black hair fell to his coat-collar; he wore a heavy moustache and a full beard.