His wig, deep curled and well whitened, gave a certain austerity to his mien.

At his instep sparkled new buckles of brilliants, rising above which sprang a graceful ankle, a straight and well-rounded leg.

The long lapels of his rich coat hung deep, and the rich waistcoat of plum-colored satin added slimness to a torso not too bulky in itself.

Neat, dainty, fastidious, "Jessamy" Law, late of Edinboro', for some weeks of London, and now of a London prison, scarce seemed a man about to be put on trial for his life.
He advanced from the door of the side room with ease and dignity.
Reaching out a snuff-box which he had found in the silken pocket of his new garment, he extended it to the turnkey with an indifferent gesture.
"Kindly have it filled with maccaboy," he said.

"See, 'tis quite empty, and as such, 'tis useless." "Certainly, Captain Law," said the turnkey.