In the silence, while they smoked, he noted the perfect taste that marked Armitage's belongings, which to him meant more, perhaps, than the steadiness of the man's eyes or the fine lines of his face.

Unconsciously Claiborne found himself watching Armitage's strong ringless hands, and he knew that such a hand, well kept though it appeared, had known hard work, and that the long supple fingers were such as might guide a tiller fearlessly or set a flag daringly upon a fire-swept parapet.
Armitage was thinking rapidly of something he had suddenly resolved to say to Captain Claiborne.

He knew that the Claibornes were a family of distinction; the father was an American diplomat and lawyer of wide reputation; the family stood for the best of which America is capable, and they were homeward bound to the American capital where their social position and the father's fame made them conspicuous.
Armitage put down his cigar and bent toward Claiborne, speaking with quiet directness.
"Captain Claiborne, I was introduced to you at Geneva by Mr.Singleton.
You may have observed me several times previously at Venice, Borne, Florence, Paris, Berlin.

I certainly saw you! I shall not deny that I intentionally followed you, nor"-- John Armitage smiled, then grew grave again--"can I make any adequate apology for doing so." Claiborne looked at Armitage wonderingly.

The man's attitude and tone were wholly serious and compelled respect.