The skin of his face was like a piece of brown parchment scored all over with deep furrows and wrinkles, as though Time, disapproving of the history he had himself penned upon it, had scratched over and blotted out all records, so that no one should henceforth be able to read what had once been clear writing.

The only animation left in him seemed to have concentrated itself in his eyes, which were black and bead-like, and roved hither and thither with a glance of ever-restless and ever-suspicious inquiry.

He saw me coming toward him, but he pretended to be absorbed in a profound study of the patch of blue sky that gleamed between the closely leaning houses of the narrow street.

I accosted him--and he brought his gaze swiftly down to my level, and stared at me with keen inquisitiveness.
"I have had a long tramp," I said, briefly, for he was not the kind of man to whom I could explain my recent terrible adventure, "and I have lost some of my clothes by an accident on the way.

Can you sell me a suit?
Anything will do--I am not particular." The old man took his pipe from his mouth.
"Do you fear the plague ?" he asked.
"I have just recovered from an attack of it," I replied, coolly.
He looked at me attentively from head to foot, and then broke into a low chuckling laugh.
"Ha! ha!" he muttered, half to himself, half to me.