CHAPTER III
AN EPISODE TEN YEARS AFTER
One fine September morning in a year the date of which is of no
particular importance, a man stepped out of a second-class
carriage on to the canopied platform of the railway terminus in
the ancient and picturesque city of Bleiberg. He yawned, shook
himself, and stretched his arms and legs, relieved to find that
the tedious journey from Vienna had not cramped those appendages
beyond recovery.
He stood some inches above the average height, and was built up
in a manner that suggested the handiwork of a British drill-
master, his figure being both muscular and symmetrical. Besides,
there was on his skin that rich brown shadow which is the result
only of the forces of the sun and wind, a life in the open air.
This color gave peculiar emphasis to the yellow hair and
mustache. His face was not handsome, if one accept the Greek
profile as a model of manly beauty, but it was cleanly and
boldly cut, healthful, strong and purposeful, based on
determined jaws and a chin which would have been obstinate but
for the presence of a kindly mouth.
A guard deposited at his feet a new hatbox, a battered traveling
bag and two gun cases which also gave evidence of rough usage.
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