"My first interview with the manager was curious. He did not ask me to
sit down after my twenty-mile walk that morning. He was commonplace in
complexion, in features, in manners, and in voice. He was of middle
size and of ordinary build. His eyes, of the usual blue, were perhaps
remarkably cold, and he certainly could make his glance fall on one as
trenchant and heavy as an axe. But even at these times the rest of his
person seemed to disclaim the intention. Otherwise there was
only an indefinable, faint expression of his lips, something
stealthy--a smile--not a smile--I remember it, but I can't explain. It
was unconscious, this smile was, though just after he had said something
it got intensified for an instant. It came at the end of his speeches
like a seal applied on the words to make the meaning of the commonest
phrase appear absolutely inscrutable. He was a common trader, from his
youth up employed in these parts--nothing more. He was obeyed, yet he
inspired neither love nor fear, nor even respect. He inspired
uneasiness. That was it! Uneasiness. Not a definite mistrust--just
uneasiness--nothing more. You have no idea how effective such a . . .
a . . . faculty can be. He had no genius for organizing, for initiative,
or for order even. That was evident in such things as the deplorable
state of the station. He had no learning, and no intelligence. His
position had come to him--why? Perhaps because he was never ill . . . He
had served three terms of three years out there . . . Because triumphant
health in the general rout of constitutions is a kind of power
in itself. When he went home on leave he rioted on a large
scale--pompously. Jack ashore--with a difference--in externals only.
This one could gather from his casual talk. He originated nothing, he
could keep the routine going--that's all. But he was great. He was great
by this little thing that it was impossible to tell what could control
such a man. He never gave that secret away. Perhaps there was nothing