“Very good, sir!” he answered in a tone of relief, and hurried away.

I took the stranger into the little boudoir across the hall.  As we went he asked me: 

“Are you the secretary?”

“No!  I am a friend of Miss Trelawny’s.  My name is Ross.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Ross, for your kindness!” he said.  “My name is Corbeck.  I would give you my card, but they don’t use cards where I’ve come from.  And if I had had any, I suppose they, too, would have gone last night—­”

He stopped suddenly, as though conscious that he had said too much.  We both remained silent; as we waited I took stock of him.  A short, sturdy man, brown as a coffee-berry; possibly inclined to be fat, but now lean exceedingly.  The deep wrinkles in his face and neck were not merely from time and exposure; there were those unmistakable signs where flesh or fat has fallen away, and the skin has become loose.  The neck was simply an intricate surface of seams and wrinkles, and sun-scarred with the burning of the Desert.  The Far East, the Tropic Seasons, and the Desert—­each can have its colour mark.  But all three are quite different; and an eye which has once known, can thenceforth easily distinguish them.  The dusky pallor of one; the fierce red-brown of the other; and of the third, the dark, ingrained burning, as though it had become a permanent colour.  Mr. Corbeck had a big head, massive and full; with shaggy, dark red-brown hair, but bald on the temples.  His forehead was a fine one, high and broad; with, to use the terms of physiognomy, the frontal sinus boldly marked.  The squareness of it showed “ratiocination”; and the fulness under the eyes “language”.  He had the short, broad nose that marks energy; the square chin—­marked despite a thick, unkempt beard—­and massive jaw that showed great resolution.

“No bad man for the Desert!” I thought as I looked.

Miss Trelawny came very quickly.  When Mr. Corbeck saw her, he seemed somewhat surprised.  But his annoyance and excitement had not disappeared; quite enough remained to cover up any such secondary and purely exoteric feeling as surprise.  But as she spoke he never took his eyes off her; and I made a mental note that I would find some early opportunity of investigating the cause of his surprise.  She began with an apology which quite smoothed down his ruffled feelings: 

“Of course, had my Father been well you would not have been kept waiting.  Indeed, had not I been on duty in the sick-room when you called the first time, I should have seen you at once.  Now will you kindly tell me what is the matter which so presses?” He looked at me and hesitated.  She spoke at once: