"There was someone else," persisted Heinrich. "Someone who was
talking to Abernethy."

The tall man mumbled something about having been a fool not to
buy her before this; Cleggett did not catch all of the remark.
Then the tall fellow said:

"We'll go aboard, Heinrich, and take a look around."

With that they advanced towards the vessel. Cleggett stepped on
deck from the cabin companionway, and both men stopped short at
the sight of him, Heinrich obviously a trifle confused, but the
other one in no wise abashed. He made no attempt, this tall
fellow, to give the situation a casual turn. What he did was to
stand and stare at Cleggett, candidly, and with more than a touch
of insolence, as if trying to beat down Cleggett's gaze.

Cleggett, staring in his turn, perceived that the tall man,
ungainly as he was, affected a bizarre individualism in the
matter of dress. His clothing cried out, rather than suggested,
that it was expensive. His feet were cased in button shoes with
fancy tops; his waistcoat, cut in the extreme of style, revealed
that little strip of white which falsely advertises a second
waistcoat beneath, but in his case the strip was too broad.
There were diamonds on the fingers of both powerful hands. But
the thing that grated particularly upon Cleggett was the
character of the man's scarfpin. It was by far the largest
ornament of the sort that Cleggett had ever seen; he was near
enough to the fellow to make out that it had been carved from a