"I fear" the newcomer remarked, as he softly closed the door behind him, "that I am an intruder.

Perhaps, Josephine, I may be favoured with an introduction to this gentleman?
He is a stranger to me, so far as I remember.

An old friend of yours, I presume ?" He advanced a step or two farther into the room, a slim, effeminate-looking person of barely medium height, dressed with the utmost care, of apparently no more than middle age but with crow's-feet about his eyes and sagging pockets of flesh underneath them.

His closely trimmed, sandy moustache was streaked with grey, his eyes were a little bloodshot, he had the shrinking manner of one who suffers from habitual nervousness.

Josephine, after her first start of surprise, watched him with coldly questioning eyes.
"I hope you have dined, Henry," she said.