ccessively a page, a footman, a butler, a steward, and an innkeeper.
As Bucket moves along London streets, young men, with shining hats and
sleek hair, evaporate at the monitory touch of his cane. When there is a
big job on the tapis "Bucket and his fat forefinger are much in
consultation together. When Mr. Bucket has a matter of this pressing
interest under consideration the fat forefinger seems to rise to the
dignity of a familiar demon. He puts it to his ears and it whispers
information; he puts it to his lips and it enjoins him to secrecy; he
rubs it over his nose and it sharpens his scent; he shakes it before a
guilty man and it charms him to his destruction. The Augurs of the
Detective Temple invariably predict that when Mr. Bucket and that finger
are much in conference a terrible avenger will be heard of before long."
Furthermore we are told that "Mr. Bucket pervades a vast number of
houses and strolls about an infinity of streets, to outward appearance
rather languishing for want of an object. He is in the friendliest
condition toward his species, and will drink with most of them. He is
free with his money, affable in his manners, innocent in his
conversation--but through the placid stream of his life there glides an
undercurrent of forefinger."

Sergeant Cuff, of The Moonstone of Wilkie Collins, is "a grizzled,
elderly man, so miserably lean that he looked as if he had not got an
ounce of flesh on his bones. He was dressed in a decent black with a
white cravat. His face was sharp as a hatchet, and the skin of it yellow
and dry like a withered autumn leaf. His eyes, of a steely, light gray,
had a very disconcerting trick, when they encountered your eyes, of
looking as if they expected something more from you than you were aware
of yourself. His walk was soft, his voice was melancholy, his long,
lanky fingers were hooked like claws. He might have been a parson, or an
undertaker, or anything else you like, except what he really was." Then
as to Cuff's methods: He is introduced to the reader with the usual air
of mystery. He makes no allusion whatever to the business he had been
hurriedly summoned to investigate, but "he admired the grounds, and
remarked that he felt the sea air very brisk and refreshing." To the
gardener's astonishment Cuff proved to be quite a mine of learning on
the trumpery subject of rose gardens. As in the case of Bucket, the
effective armor of Cuff is flattery. "You have got a head on your
s