“You know me by sight, then.”
“Of course, of course. You know me?”
“I know you very well by name.”
“I have been here such a short time, and always in the bazaar. No wonder you have never seen me, and I wonder you know my name. I say, Mr. Fielding?”
“Yes?”
“Guess what I look like before you come out. That will be a kind of game.”
“You’re five feet nine inches high,” said Fielding, surmising this much through the ground glass of the bedroom door.
“Jolly good. What next? Have I not a venerable white beard?”
“Blast!”
“Anything wrong?”