He was a young man of Fred's own age.

His hair was cut close, his face smooth-shaven, and above his eye was a half-healed bruise.

He had the sharp, clever, rat-like face of one who lived by evil knowledge.

Water dripped from him, and either for that reason or from fright the young man trembled, and, like one who had been running, breathed in short, hard gasps.
Fred was surprised to find that he was not in the least surprised.

It was as though he had been waiting for the man, as though it had been an appointment.
Two thoughts alone concerned him: that before he could rid himself of his visitor his wife might return and take alarm, and that the man, not knowing his friendly intentions, and in a state to commit murder, might rush him.