d him closely. Mechanically,
methodically, he went on with his dressing. The more he dressed,
the less could I believe it was Hugo. I had expected to find him
close-shaven; so did the police, by their printed notices. Instead
of that, he had shaved his beard and whiskers, but only trimmed his
moustache; trimmed it quite short, so as to reveal the boyish corners
of the mouth--a trick which entirely altered his rugged expression.
But that was not all; what puzzled me most was the eyes--they were not
Hugo's. At first I could not imagine why. By degrees the truth dawned
upon me. His eyebrows were naturally thick and shaggy--great overhanging
growth, interspersed with many of those stiff long hairs to which Darwin
called attention in certain men as surviving traits from a monkey-like
ancestor. In order to disguise himself, Hugo had pulled out all these
coarser hairs, leaving nothing on his brows but the soft and closely
pressed coat of down which underlies the longer bristles in all such
cases. This had wholly altered the expression of the eyes, which no
longer looked out keenly from their cavernous penthouse; but being
deprived of their relief, had acquired a much more ordinary and less
individual aspect. From a good-natured but shaggy giant, my old friend
was transformed by his shaving and his costume into a well-fed and
well-grown, but not very colossal, commercial gentleman. Hugo was
scarcely six feet high, indeed, though by his broad shoulders and bushy
beard he had always impressed one with such a sense of size; and now
that the hirsuteness had been got rid of, and the dress altered, he
hardly struck one as taller or bigger than the average of his fellows.

We sat for some minutes and talked. Le Geyt would not speak of Clara;
and when I asked him his intentions, he shook his head moodily. "I shall
act for the best," he said--"what of best is left--to guard the dear
children. It was a terrible price to pay for their redemption; but it
was the only one possible, and, in a moment of wrath, I paid it. Now, I
have to pay, in turn, myself. I do not shirk it."

"You will come back to London, then, and stand your trial?" I asked,
eagerly.

"Come back TO LONDON?" he cried, with a face of white panic. Hitherto
he had seemed to me rather relieved in expression than otherwise;
his countenance had lost its worn and anxious look; he was no longer
watching each moment over his children's safety. "Come back... TO
LONDON... and face