The green of it was a subdued, a warm and a lovely green; its cloth was soft and thick, pliable and smooth; the rich fur at the collar and cuffs was a promise of luxury in the lining.
Now the Devil during all Professor Higginson's life had had but trifling fun with him until that memorable moment. The opportunity, as the reader will soon discover, was (from the Devil's point of view) remarkable and rare. More, far more, than Professor Higginson's somewhat sterile soul was involved in the issue.
The Green Overcoat appeared for a few seconds seductive, then violently alluring, next—and in a very few seconds—irresistible.
Professor Higginson shot a sin-laden and frightened glance towards the light and the noise and the music within. No one was in sight. Through the open door of the rooms, whence the sound of the party came loud and fairly drunken, he saw no face turned his way. The hall itself was deserted. Then he heard a hurl of wind, a dash of rain on the hall window. With a rapidity worthy of a greater game, and to him most unusual, he whisked the garment from the chair, slipped into the shadow of the door, struggled into the Green
