The dictator wore a splendid uniform, as usual.

His face seemed to Ned fuller and more flushed than when they had last met in Mexico.

The marks of dissipation were there.

Ned saw him slip a little silver box from the pocket of his waistcoat and take from it a pinch of a dark drug, which he ate.

It was opium, but the Mexican generals seemed to take no note of it.
Santa Anna's gaze was fixed and piercing, as if he would shoot terror into the soul of his enemy--a favorite device of his--but Ned withstood it.