It was against a wooden surface beneath the sleeve that his knuckles struck, and this view of the stranger's infirmity was confirmed when the other reached round with his right hand, took hold of the gloved left hand and thrust it into the pocket of his overcoat.
"Where is Kara ?" growled the stranger.
"He will be back very shortly, sir," said the urbane Fisher.
"Out, is he ?" boomed the visitor.

"Then I shan't wait.

What the devil does he mean by being out?
He's had three years to be out!" "Mr.Kara expects you, sir.

He told me he would be in at six o'clock at the latest." "Six o'clock, ye gods'." stormed the man impatiently.

"What dog am I that I should wait till six ?" He gave a savage little tug at his beard.
"Six o'clock, eh?
You will tell Mr.Kara that I called.