His head was uncovered, showing his thin hair of a ruddy chestnut colour.

Under one arm was the flat cocked hat with the twopenny tricolour rosette, which was already reproduced in his pictures.

In his right hand he held a little riding switch with a metal head.

He walked slowly forward, his face immutable, his eyes fixed steadily before him, measured, inexorable, the very personification of Destiny.
'Admiral Bruix!' I do not know if that voice thrilled through every one as it did through me.

Never had I heard anything more harsh, more menacing, more sinister.