The stranger came early in February, one wintry day,
through a biting wind and a driving snow, the last
snowfall of the year, over the down, walking from
Bramblehurst railway station, and carrying a little
black portmanteau in his thickly gloved hand.
He was wrapped up from head to foot, and the brim
of his soft felt hat hid every inch of his face but
the shiny tip of his nose; the snow had piled itself
against his shoulders and chest, and added a white
crest to the burden he carried. He staggered
into the “Coach and Horses” more dead
than alive, and flung his portmanteau down. “A
fire,” he cried, “in the name of human
charity! A room and a fire!” He stamped
and shook the snow from off himself in the bar, and
followed Mrs. Hall into her guest parlour to strike
his bargain. And with that much introduction,
that and a couple of sovereigns flung upon the table,
he took up his quarters in the inn.
Mrs. Hall lit the fire and left him there while she
went to prepare him a meal with her own hands.
A guest to stop at Iping in the wintertime was an
unheard-of piece of luck, let alone a guest who was
no “haggler,” and she was resolved to show
herself worthy of her good fortune. As soon as
the bacon was well under way, and Millie, her lymphatic
aid, had been brisked up a bit by a few deftly chosen
expressions of contempt, she carried the cloth, plates,
and glasses into the parlour and began to lay them
with the utmost eclat. Although the fire
was burning up briskly, she was surprised to see that
her visitor still wore his hat and coat, standing with
his back to her and staring out of the window at the
falling snow in the yard. His gloved hands were
clasped behind him, and he seemed to be lost in thought.
She noticed that the melting snow that still sprinkled
his shoulders dripped upon her carpet. “Can
I take your hat and coat, sir?” she said, “and
give them a good dry in the kitchen?”
“No,” he said without turning.
She was not sure she had heard him, and was about
to repeat her question.
He turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder.
“I prefer to keep them on,” he said with
emphasis, and she noticed that he wore big blue spectacles
with sidelights, and had a bush side-whisker over
his coat-collar that completely hid his cheeks and
face.
“Very well, sir,” she said. “As
you like. In a bit the room will be warmer.”
He made no answer, and had turned his face away from
her again, and Mrs. Hall, feeling that her conversational
advances were ill-timed, laid the rest of the table
things in a quick staccato and whisked out of the
room. When she returned he was still standing
there, like a man of stone, his back hunched, his
collar turned up, his dripping hat-brim turned down,
hiding his face and ears completely. She put
down the eggs and bacon with considerable emphasis,
and called rather than said to him, “Your lunch
is served, sir.”
