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His face, bloated from continual drinking, was of a yellow, even

greenish, tinge, with swollen eyelids out of which keen reddish

eyes gleamed like little chinks. But there was something very

strange in him; there was a light in his eyes as though of

intense feeling--perhaps there were even thought and

intelligence, but at the same time there was a gleam of something

like madness. He was wearing an old and hopelessly ragged black

dress coat, with all its buttons missing except one, and that one

he had buttoned, evidently clinging to this last trace of

respectability. A crumpled shirt front, covered with spots and

stains, protruded from his canvas waistcoat. Like a clerk, he

wore no beard, nor moustache, but had been so long unshaven that

his chin looked like a stiff greyish brush. And there was

something respectable and like an official about his manner too.