This was a tall, rugged, plain man, on the wrong side of fifty, already gray, and with a restless mouth and bushy eyebrows: he spoke seldom, but then with gaiety; and his great, quaking, silent laughter was infectious.
I could make out that he was at once the quiz of the ward-room and perfectly respected; and I made sure that he observed me covertly.

It is certain I returned the compliment.

If Carthew had feigned sickness--and all seemed to point in that direction--here was the man who knew all--or certainly knew much.

His strong, sterling face progressively and silently persuaded of his full knowledge.

That was not the mouth, these were not the eyes, of one who would act in ignorance, or could be led at random.