He looked the sort of gentleman England had made a speciality of producing, stalwart, principled, and with an air of dutiful determination about him, the kind of man who would have been in the first charge at Agincourt. But a second look showed eyes that were a little sunken, as if from sleepless nights, and there were deep lines incised from nose to chin that looked as if they had been drawn on with an unkind hand. If this had not persuaded me that he was troubled, a single glance at his hands would have done so. His fingernails were bitten to the quick, a slender thread of scarlet marking
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