Explore "The Black Patch" by Fergus Hume on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Don't go with him, miss," urged Mrs. Quail. "He's a bad one: look at his eyes."
Beatrice had no need to look at them. She knew well the evil that they held, and shrank, as she always did, from contact with this creature of the night. Certainly Waterloo was much better dressed than when she had seen him last. He wore a somewhat shabby frock coat, a pair of smart patent-leather boots, a fashionable collar, and a silk hat which glistened like the sun. The tramp actually reeked of some fashionable scent, and swung a dandy cane with a genteel air. He wore a wig, from under which his natural red hair peeped; and his false teeth looked aggressively white and new. On the whole, Waterloo evidently considered that he was now a perfect buck, and ogled the comely landlady and the shrinking girl with an assured air.