The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth Century

by Georgette Heyer

"Certainly, sir!" he said with alacrity. "'Twas a great ruffianly fellow, monstrous tall—"

"How tall?" interrupted the town-clerk. "Six feet?"

"Oh, quite!" lied Mr. Chilter. "And fat."

Jack's shoulders shook.

"Fat, you say?" he asked gently.

"Very fat," affirmed Mr. Chilter. "And prodigious rough, swearing dreadfully in his speech."

"You could not see his face, I suppose?"

Mr. Chilter hesitated.

"I could see his mouth and chin," he said, "and I remarked a long scar running from his under-lip to the—er—bottom of his face."

Involuntarily Carstares' hand caressed his perfectly smooth chin. Either the little clerk was a born romancer, or for some reason or other he did not want the highwayman to be taken.