We recoiled from a position cheek by jowl. A light flashed in my eyes, and at the same instant I directed the glare of my pocket-torch, which I still possessed, into his eyes. Our speeches, too, crossed each other.
“Pardon! I didn’t hear you, sir!”
“What are you doing here?”
It was not the greeting I had expected; in fact, I felt it quite discourteous. Moreover, he kept the spot-light of his dark-lantern playing on my features for some time, and his piercing eyes studied me critically. In return I gave his exterior a good scrutiny.
My light revealed a tall figure, appearing excessively, grotesquely tall because it was wearing a very high, narrow top-hat, almost a steeple-hat. The man was large and round as well as long. His face compared with the rest of his body was relatively narrow; I saw glittering eyes and a long, straight nose, eyebrows black like coals, and a mantling, pointed beard, also very thick and fiercely black. What gave me the creeps was that this beard did not grow quite straight, but was tilted a little to the left.
His clothing, I saw in this long dissection, was that of an elderly man, a black double-breasted frock-coat, not cutaway, and black trousers which descended to elastic-sided boots. And under the arm toward which the beard slanted was lodged an old, bulgy umbrella with a large metal handle. He quickly shifted this article into his right hand, grasping it toward the point so that it might be a weapon of considerable moment, his left hand holding the dark-lantern.
He was the first to break the silence. Smiling, he replaced the umbrella under his arm.
“Ah, pardon me, please. I see that you are on my side.” His voice, now I noticed it, was rather deep, and yet rather young for one of his solemn appearance.
“I’m sure I’m not against you,” I answered, and lowered my light out of his eyes. He followed suit.
“You are one of the natives of this region?” he asked, and with his question came the thought to me that he might be a foreigner, although his full, somewhat throaty voice was perfectly assimilated to the Anglican inflections. Those coat-skirts somehow gave him a little of a Continental aspect—and that umbrella! Didn’t Schubert always carry an umbrella? or was I thinking of Paul Pry?