over his protruding blue eyes in a manner that alarmed small boys, and, indeed, many an adult when he frowned. The eyes themselves had a curious expression of mingled amusement and hostility. He looked at all people with a fixed hard stare, and one had to know him for some time to realize that he did not crave to murder the whole human race.
He was never known to wear a coat save at the start and end of his annual trip to Auckland. No tailor seemed equal to the task of making his vests capacious enough, for he was never seen in one that was not split down the back. But his shirts and trousers were impeccable and his boots always brushed.
In his hotel he was an autocrat. Though his house was public in the eyes of the law, there were people he would not allow to set foot in it, and he had ways of making the local law agree with him. It was his pride that he ran the best public house in the north of New Zealand. He sold unadulterated liquor even before the prohibition party got after the trade, and he gave the best shilling dinner in the country. He was famous for it. He never allowed a drunken man to be seen leaving his house. He had two rooms beside his stables at the back with cots in them, and there he calmly dumped and locked up the obstreperous drinkers till they should be able to walk off without attracting the attention of the constable. He felt it was only fair to keep them out of the clutches of the law.
Thomas MacAlarney rarely spoke to a woman other than his servants, whom he managed himself. Few people suspected that he was mortally afraid of the sex and confused in its presence. He was conscious of his vocabulary, which was liable to be unprintable at any moment, and having but little knowledge of the English or any other
