When he had counted his money and had returned it once more to its hiding-place, he buckled the belt round his person and unstrapped his valise, taking from it a black Tussa coat which he exchanged for that hanging upon the handle of the door.  Then he lighted a Java cigar and sat down upon the bed to think.  Taken altogether, his was not a prepossessing countenance.  The peculiar attributes I have already described were sufficient to prevent that.  At the same time it was a strong face, that of a man who was little likely to allow himself to be beaten, of his own free will, in anything he might undertake.  The mouth was firm, the chin square, the eyes dark and well set, moreover he wore a heavy black moustache, which he kept sharp-pointed.  His hair was of the same colour, though streaked here and there with grey.  His height was an inch and a half above six feet, but by reason of his slim figure, he looked somewhat taller.  His hands and feet were small, but of his strength there could be no doubt.  Taken altogether, he was not a man with whom one would feel disposed to trifle.  Unfortunately, however, the word adventurer was written all over him, and, as a considerable section of the world’s population have good reason to know, he was as little likely to fail to take advantage of his opportunities as he was to forget the man who had robbed him, or who had done him an ill turn.  It was said in Hong Kong that he was well connected, and that he had claims upon a Viceroy now gone to his account; that, had he persevered with them, might have placed him in a very different position.  How much truth there was in this report, however, I cannot say; one thing, however, is quite certain; if it were true, he had fallen grievously from his high estate.

When his meditations had continued for something like ten minutes, he rose from the bed, blew a cloud of smoke, stretched himself, strapped his valise once more, gave himself what the sailors call a hoist, that he might be sure his money-belt was in its proper position, and then unlocked the door, passed out, re-locked it after him, and returned to the bar.  There he called for certain curious liquors, smelt them suspiciously before using them, and then proceeded deliberately to mix himself a peculiar drink.  The landlord watched him with appreciative surprise.  He imagined himself to be familiar with every drink known to the taste of man, having had wide experience, but such an one as this he had never encountered before.

“What do you call it?” he asked, when the other had finished his preparations.

“I call it a ‘Help to Reformation,’” the stranger replied.  Then, with a sneer upon his face, he added, “It should be popular with your customers.”

Taking the drink with him into the verandah outside, he seated himself in a long chair and proceeded to sip it slowly, as if it were some elixir whose virtue would be lost by haste.  Some people might have been amused by the motley crowd that passed along the street beyond the verandah-rails, but Gideon Hayle, for such was his name, took no sort of interest in it.  He had seen it too often to find any variety in it.  As a matter of fact the mere sight of a pigtail was sufficient to remind him of a certain episode in his career which he had been for years endeavouring to forget.