The Problem of the Steel Door

There stood Kennedy, arrayed in all the glory of a sharp-pointed mustache and a goatee. He had put on evening clothes of decidedly Parisian cut, clothes which he had used abroad and had brought back with him, but which I had never know him to wear since he came back. On a chair reposed a chimney-pot hat that would have been pronounced faultless on the continent, but was unknown, except among impresarios, on Broadway.