I ought to have remembered that in his moods Hemlock Jones was reticence itself.

I told him simply of the strange intrusion, but he only laughed.
Later, when I arose to go, he looked at me playfully.

"If you were a married man," he said, "I would advise you not to go home until you had brushed your sleeve.

There are a few short brown sealskin hairs on the inner side of your forearm, just where they would have adhered if your arm had encircled a seal-skin coat with some pressure!" "For once you are at fault," I said triumphantly; "the hair is my own, as you will perceive; I have just had it cut at the hairdresser's, and no doubt this arm projected beyond the apron." He frowned slightly, yet, nevertheless, on my turning to go he embraced me warmly--a rare exhibition in that man of ice.

He even helped me on with my overcoat and pulled out and smoothed down the flaps of my pockets.