A gentleman not above the middle height, but with a remarkable chest, both broad and deep; yet he was not unwieldy, like Dr. Amboyne, but clean-built, and symmetrical. An agreeable face, with one remarkable feature, a mouth full of iron resolution, and a slight humorous dimple at the corners.
He shook hands with Henry, and said, “I wish to ask you a question or two, in the way of business: but first let me express my sympathy, as a man, and my detestation of the ruffians that have so nearly victimized you.”
This was very hearty, and Henry thanked him with some emotion. “But, sir,” said he, “if I am to reply to your questions, you must promise me you will never publish my name.”
“It is on account of his mother,” whispered Bayne.
“Yes, sir. It was her misfortune to lose my father by a violent death, and of course you may imagine—”
“Say no more,” said Mr. Holdfast: “your name shall not appear. And—let me see—does your mother know you work here?”
“Yes, she does.”
“Then we had better keep Cheetham's name out as well.”
“Oh, thank you, sir, thank you. Now I'll answer any questions you like.”
“Well, then, I hear this outrage was preceded by several letters. Could I see them?”