He is somewhat over fifty, a long-faced gentleman with sandy-grey hair
and a slither of side whiskers that mercifully distract attention from
his large outstanding ears. A high and flat-crowned bowler hat matches
and yet does not match a frockcoat tightly buttoned across his sparse
chest. His boots are square-toed, his cravat is ready-made. In short, he
seems to be a rather harmless, somewhat eccentric gentleman. But it is
fatal to underestimate Mr. J.G. Reeder ...