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Between-times I saw all the engravings prepared after his sketches, and I regarded him and them with a kind of childish reverence. I can picture him still, a hale, bluff, tall, and burly-looking man, with short dark hair, blue eyes and a big ruddy moustache. He was far away the best known member of our family in my younger days, when anonymity in journalism was an almost universal rule.
The great thing now was not to make speeches; it was to reach "S" on roll-call before a man with iron-grey hair and an iron-grey moustache could come in and say something to the fair-haired member with the weak mouth who sat near the rear of the chamber. Freckles was called away just as it went to a vote.
The one in the centre wore the pink carnation, a white waistcoat, a dark moustache; he reeled a little as he walked. Crum's voice said slow and level: "Look at that bounder, he's screwed!" Val turned to look. The 'bounder' had disengaged his arm, and was pointing straight at them. Crum's voice, level as ever, said: "He seems to know you!" The 'bounder' spoke: "H'llo!" he said. "You f'llows, look!
At the click the man stopped fingering his moustache, ended his talk, mounted to his seat, and started the engine. Bryant handed him the bucket, folded flat again, which the recipient tossed down by his feet. "Here, my man," said the olive-skinned young fellow at the wheel, with a forefinger and thumb searching a waistcoat pocket as the car began slowly to move forward.
The suddenness and surprise of the movement started the ends of Cowan's moustache to twitching. "Sir," spoke up the muddy infantryman, "here's that bozo we all been lookin' for." Major Cowan arose. "Count von Herzmann, I believe?" he said as calmly as though it were a social meeting. The prisoner lifted his eyebrows in well feigned surprise.
There was a third man whom she often noticed: his clothing seemed as if it had been put on him a long time ago and had never been taken off again. He had a long, pale face, with a dark moustache drooping over a most beautiful mouth. His eyes were very big and lazy, and did not look quite human; they had a trick of looking sidewards a most intimate, personal look.
"General Stuart sat on his horse in the centre of the town, surrounded by his staff, and his command was coming in from the country in large squads, leading their old horses and riding the new ones they had found in the stables hereabouts. General Stuart is of medium size, has a keen eye, and wears immense sandy whiskers and moustache. His demeanor to our people was that of a humane soldier.
He was without his coat and waistcoat; he had been doubtless snoozing in the rocking-chair which stood in a corner furthest from the window. Above the great bulk of his crumpled white shirt, buttoned with three diamond studs, his round face looked swarthy. It was moist; his brown moustache hung limp and ragged. He pushed a common, cane-bottomed chair towards me with his foot. "Sit down."
I don't like seeing him in the lock-up; and that's the long and short of it!" "So long as it's only the long and short, and not the end of it, it doesn't greatly matter," returned Cleek. "Hello! Is that you, Dollops?" "Yessir." "Any news for me? Found that chap with the straggling black moustache that tried to do me in the other night?
"For the benefit of a French police spy, who was trying his best to overhear our conversation." "A police spy? Did you know him?" "I know his class; it's impossible to mistake it. They all look alike it's a type which even the comic opera has been unable to burlesque. You probably noticed him all moustache, imperial, and lavender gloves." "Oh, him? Yes, I've seen him.
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