'He was full of them–the old man. There was his objection to all the unnecessary fuss and luxury that wealthy people don't kick at much, as a general rule. He didn't have any use for expensive trifles and ornaments. He wouldn't have anybody do little things for him; he hated to have servants tag around after him unless he wanted them. And although Manderson was as careful about his clothes as any man I ever knew, and his shoes–well, sir, the amount of money he spent on shoes was sinful–in spite of that, I tell you, he never had a valet. He never liked to have anybody touch him. All his life nobody ever shaved him.'
'I've heard something of that,' Trent remarked. 'Why was it, do you think?'
'Well,' Mr. Bunner answered slowly, 'it was the Manderson habit of mind, I guess; a sort of temper of general suspicion and jealousy. They say his father and grandfather were just the same. . . . Like a dog with a bone, you know, acting as if all the rest of creation was laying for a chance to steal it. He didn't really think the barber would start in to saw his head off; he just felt there was a possibility that he might, and he was taking no risks. Then again
