That he had a history no one could doubt who saw him come down the street with his broad hat, his sweeping cloak, his gauntlets, his neatly varnished boots.
In reality Colonel Henry Battersleigh lived, during his city life, in a small, a very small room, up more than one night of stairs.

This room, no larger than a tent, was military in its neatness.

Battersleigh, bachelor and soldier, was in nowise forgetful of the truth that personal neatness and personal valour go well hand in hand.

The bed, a very narrow one, had but meagre covering, and during the winter months its single blanket rattled to the touch.

"There's nothing in the world so warm as newspapers, me boy," said Battersleigh.