Arthur Conan Doyle,
Rodney Stone — Chapter XIX: Cliffe Royal
(1896)
“ He was a tall man, clad in a dark dressing-gown, and leaning heavily upon a stick. His long, bloodless countenance was so thin and so white that it gave the strangest illusion of transparency. Only within the folds of a shroud have I ever seen so wan a face. The brindled hair and the rounded back gave the impression of advanced age, and it was only the dark brows and the bright alert eyes glancing out from beneath them which made me doubt whether it was really an old man who stood before us.There was an instant of silence, broken by a deep oath from Sir Lothian Hume—"Lord Avon, by God!" ”
