The Disappearing Eye by Fergus Hume — Read

I was decidedly disappointed by the inopportune arrival of Mr. Walter Monk. His daughter was just about to tell me much that I greatly desired to know, and his abrupt entrance had prevented her from speaking freely. It was most provoking, as I might not easily find her again in a confidential mood. However, as things were, it only remained to accept the situation philosophically, so I dismissed the lost opportunity with a shrug and turned to examine the new-comer. Already he was embracing the girl, whom he rather effectedly called "daughterling. " I summed up his character from his use of that exotic word.

Mr. Monk presented himself, as a dapper, small-sized man, with a clean-shaven face, smooth grey hair parted accurately in the middle of his small head, and a pince-nez, which usually concealed two shallow brown eyes. On removing an expensive travelling-coat, lined with sable, he appeared in an admirably-cut tweed suit, with smart brown shoes, dark-blue socks, and a silk scarf of the same hue knotted neatly under an immaculately white collar. He struck me as a lap-dog man: a dandy, a _petit-mâitre_, too precisely dressed, too finicky -- that's the exact word -- in his manner: too effeminate in his way of speaking. There was a suggestion of Miss Destiny's mincing ways in his whole attitude. How such a doll-like piece of humanity came to have so tall and stately a daughter was a question I could not answer, until it struck me that Gertrude might take after her deceased mother. Then I wondered afresh how such a woman could have married such a manikin.