In the dim light, at the outskirts of the rabble, a man was turning away, with an air of contempt or unconcern.
The long, pale, oval face, the hard eyes gleaming with thought, had vanished at a glance.

A tall, slight figure, stooping in his long robe, he glided into the darkness.

For all his haste, the gait was not the gait of a coolie.
"That," said Heywood, turning into their former path, "that was Fang, the Sword-Pen, so-called.

Very clever chap.

Of the two most dangerous men in the district, he's one." They had swung along briskly for several minutes, before he added: "The other most dangerous man--you've met him already.