He was as restless as a gipsy and far more aimless.

He never appeared to take an interest in anything: he was always moving here, there and everywhere, and had--so far as Cuthbert knew--no object in life.

His reason for this Cainlike behavior, Caranby never condescended to explain.
When his nephew entered the room, looking smart and handsome in his accurate evening suit, Caranby, who was seated near the fire, stood up courteously to welcome him, leaning on his cane.

He suffered from sciatica, and could not walk save with the assistance of his stick.
And on this account also, he always insisted on the room being heated to an extraordinary degree.

Like a salamander he basked in the heat, and would not allow either door or window to be opened, even in the midst of summer, when a large fire made the apartment almost unendurable.