"Because by dress it is possible to make—something out of nothing!"
"Explain yourself."
"Why, there was the case of young Lord Ambleside, a nobleman remarkable for a vague stare, and seldom saying anything but 'What!' or 'Dey-vil take me!' though I'll admit he could curse almost coherently—at times. I found him nothing but a lord, and very crude material at that, yet in less than six months he was made."
"Made?"
"Made, sir," nodded the fugitive. "I began him with a cravat, an entirely original creation, which drew the approval of Brummell himself, and, consequently, took London by storm, and I continued him with a waistcoat."
"Not a—white one?" Barnabas inquired.
"No, sir, it was a delicate pink, embroidered with gold, and of quite a new cut and design, which was the means of introducing him to the notice of Royalty itself. The Prince had one copied from it, and wore it at a state reception. And I finished him with a pair of pantaloons which swept the world of fashion clean off its legs, and brought him into lasting favor with the Regent. So my Lord was made, and eventually I married him to an heiress."
"You married him?"
"That is to say, I dictated all his letters, and composed all his verses, which speedily brought the affair to a happy culmination."
"You seem to be a man of many and varied gifts?"