The agony of those contorted limbs struck me with a spasm of pain and blurred my eyes with tears.
"We must send for help, Holmes! We cannot carry him all the way to the Hall.

Good heavens, are you mad ?" He had uttered a cry and bent over the body.

Now he was dancing and laughing and wringing my hand.

Could this be my stern, self-contained friend?
These were hidden fires, indeed! "A beard! A beard! The man has a beard!" "A beard ?" "It is not the baronet--it is--why, it is my neighbour, the convict!" With feverish haste we had turned the body over, and that dripping beard was pointing up to the cold, clear moon.

There could be no doubt about the beetling forehead, the sunken animal eyes.