pinions
of the dead man's father, and even unconsciously influenced by them, now
found himself in the presence of a very different intellect. There was
nothing in the least superstitious about Peter Hardcastle. He uttered
the views of a remorseless realist, and at the outset committed himself
to certain definite assumptions. The inhabitants of the manor house were
informed that a friend of Sir Walter's had come to visit Chadlands, and
they saw nothing to make them doubt it. For Peter was a great actor.
He had mixed with all classes, and the detective had the imitative
cleverness to adapt himself in speech and attire to every society. He
even claimed that he could think with the brains of anybody and adapt
his inner mind, as well as his outer shape, to the changing environment
of his activities. He appreciated the histrionics that operate out of
sight, and would adopt the blank purview of the ignorant, the deeper
attitude of the cultured, or the solid posture of that class whose
education and inherent opinions is based upon tradition. He had made a
study of the superficial etiquette and manners and customs of what is
called "the best" society, and knew its ways as a naturalist patiently
masters the habits of a species.

Chadlands saw a small, fair man with scanty hair, a clean-shaven face, a
rather feminine cast of features, a broad forehead, slate-grey eyes,
and a narrow, lipless mouth which revealed very fine white teeth when he
spoke. It was a colorless face and challenged no attention; but it was a
face that served as an excellent canvas, and few professional actors had
ever surpassed Peter in the art of making up their features.

Similarly he could disguise his voice, the natural tones of which were
low, monotonous, and of no arrestive quality. Mr. Hardcastle surprised
Sir Walter by his commonplace appearance and seeming youth, for he
looked ten years younger than the forty he had lived. A being so
undistinguished rather disappointed his elder, for the master of
Chadlands had imagined that any man of such wide celebrity must offer
superficial marks of greatness.

But here was one so insignificant and so undersized that it seemed
impossible to imagine him a famous Englishman. His very voice, in its
level, matter-of-fact tones, added to the suggestion of mediocrity.

Sir Walter found, however, that the detective did not undervalue
himself. He was not arrogant, but revealed decision and immense will
power. From the