She had tried him as a Crusader, in which guise he seemed plausible but heavy—“There IS something heavy about him; I wonder if it’s his mustache?”—and as a Hussar, which made him preposterous, and as a Black Brunswicker, which was better, and as an Arab sheik. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. Stanley wanted to object strongly, but as he could not immediately think how to put it, he contented himself with a grunt, and the motion was carried. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. “Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. You have been burning paper, I see. "I should like to meet the man who would dare to gainsay it. The job is easy.
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