His gaze fell on "Four-Fingered Phillips" and he viewed that gentleman perplexedly.

He didn't look in the least like a confidence-man.

He appeared to be about sixty years of age, eminently respectable and slightly infirm.

He clutched a basket of fruit and an ivory-headed cane and seemed quite oblivious to everything about him.
New York, reflected Tom, with something like a shudder, must be a terribly wicked place! And then, while he was still striving to discern signs of depravity under the gentle and kindly exterior of the elderly confidence-man, a young woman, leading a little boy of some three or four years of age and bearing many bundles, hurried up to "Four-Fingered Phillips," spoke, helped him to his feet and guided him away toward the train-shed.

Tom sighed.