His hair was curled down over his forehead in an oiled bang.

His rather pugged nose seemed to revolt from contact with a bristling moustache of short, wire-like hairs.

His blue double-breasted coat, edged with black braid, buttoned close to a red puff tie, and his patent-leather shoes looked like murder-fitted weapons.
His mannerisms stamped him as a man who had a correct sense of his personal superiority.

There was valor and contempt for circumstances in the glance of his eye.

He waved his hands like a man of the world, who dismisses religion and philosophy, and says "Fudge." He had certainly seen everything and with each curl of his lip, he declared that it amounted to nothing.