“Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. ’ ‘I am whatever you like,’ he agreed pleasantly, ‘but nothing is going to stop me from searching for this dagger. It wasn’t anything splendid, you know. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. “We mustn’t have any unpleasantness, and Mr. Gerald caught the look and slipped the weapon into his pocket. He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. His high brow was what caused all the ladies in town to covet him, it radiated intelligence but also something more primal. No more. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. Spit of your mother.
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