Henri Fantin-Latour paintings
Horace Vernet paintings
hatchet, and the skin of it was as yellow and dry and withered as an autumn leaf. His eyes, of a steely light grey, had a very disconcerting trick, when they encountered your eyes, of looking as if they expected something more from you than you were aware of yourself. His walk was soft; his voice was melancholy; his long lanky fingers were hooked like claws. He might have been a parson, or an undertaker--or anything else you like, except what he really was. A more complete opposite to Superintendent Seegrave than Sergeant Cuff, and a less comforting officer to look at, for a family in distress, I defy you to discover, search where you may.
`Is this Lady Verinder's?' he asked.
`Yes, sir.'I FOUND my lady in her own sitting-room. She started and looked annoyed when I mentioned that Sergeant Cuff wished to speak to her.
`Must I see him?' she asked. `Can't you represent me, Gabriel?'
I felt at a loss to understand this, and showed it plainly, I suppose, in my face. My lady was so good as to explain herself.
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