in order that we might last over till next remittance day. The havoc
he managed to wreak among his belongings in that time would scarce be
believed should I set it down--not even a single boot properly
treed--and his appearance when I was enabled to recover him (my client
having behaved most handsomely on the eve of his departure for Spain)
being such that I passed him in the hotel lounge without even a
nod--climbing-boots, with trousers from his one suit of boating
flannels, a blazered golfing waistcoat, his best morning-coat with the
wide braid, a hunting-stock and a motoring-cap, with his beard more
than discursive, as one might say, than I had ever seen it. If I
disclose this thing it is only that my fears for him may be
comprehended when I pictured him being permanently out of hand.

Meditating thus bitterly, I had but finished dressing when I was
startled by a knock on my door and by the entrance, to my summons, of
the elder and more subdued Floud, he of the drooping mustaches and the
mournful eyes of pale blue. One glance at his attire brought freshly
to my mind the atrocious difficulties of my new situation. I may be
credited or not, but combined with tan boots and wretchedly fitting
trousers of a purple hue he wore a black frock-coat, revealing far,
far too much of a blue satin "made" cravat on which was painted a
cluster of tiny white flowers--lilies of the valley, I should say.
Unbelievably above this monstrous melange was a rather low-crowned
bowler hat.

Hardly repressing a shudder, I bowed, whereupon he advanced solemnly
to me and put out his hand. To cover the embarrassing situation
tactfully I extended my own, and we actually shook hands, although the
clasp was limply quite formal.