The stranger wore a shabby grey doublet, but he had no air of poverty, for round his neck hung a massive chain of gold, and his broad belt held a richly chased dagger.

He had unbuckled his sword, and it lay on the table holding down certain vagrant papers which fluttered in the evening wind.

His face was hard and red like sandstone, and around his eyes were a multitude of fine wrinkles.

It was these eyes that arrested Philip.

They were of a pale brown as if bleached by weather and gazing over vast spaces; cool and quiet and friendly, but with a fire burning at the back of them.