No, not piticular short, sir.'
'Then, I suppose, he must be about the middle height?'
'Well, you might say it, sir; but not remarkable so.'
I smothered an oath.
'Is he clean-shaved?' I tried him again.
'Clean-shaved?' he repeated, with the same air of anxious candour.
'Good heaven, man, don't repeat my words like a parrot!' I cried.
'Tell me what the man was like: it is of the first importance that
I should be able to recognise him.'
'I'm trying to, Mr. Anne. But CLEAN-SHAVED? I don't seem to
rightly get hold of that p'int. Sometimes it might appear to me
like as if he was; and sometimes like as if he wasn't. No, it
wouldn't surprise me now if you was to tell me he 'ad a bit o'
whisker.'
'Was the man red-faced?' I roared, dwelling on each syllable.
'I don't think you need go for to get cross about it, Mr. Anne!'
said he. 'I'm tellin' you every blessed thing I see! Red-faced?
Well, no, not as you would remark upon.'
A dreadful calm fell upon me.
'Was he anywise pale?' I asked.
'Well, it don't seem to me as though he were. But I tell you
truly, I didn't take much heed to that.'
'Did he look like a drinking man?'
'Well, no. If you please, sir, he looked more like an eating one.'
'Oh, he was stout, was he?'
'No, sir. I couldn't go so far as that.
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