A Descent into Egypt by Algernon Blackwood

It was after dinner in his private room, and he had sat very silent in his corner until this sudden outburst. Moleson got up quietly without a word and moved over to the piano. I saw or was it imagination merely? a new expression slide upon his withered face. He meant mischief somewhere.

From that instant from the moment he rose and walked over the thick carpet he fascinated me. The atmosphere his talk and stories had brought remained. His lean fingers ran over the keys, and at first he played fragments from popular musical comedies that were pleasant enough, but made no demand upon the attention. I heard them without listening. I was thinking of another thing his walk. For the way he moved across those few feet of carpet had power in it. He looked different; he seemed another man; he was changed. I saw him curiously as I sometimes now saw Isley too bigger. In some manner that was both enchanting and oppressive, his presence from that moment drew my imagination as by an air of authority it held.