He wore a long coat, beautifully flowered, and a hat with a turned up brim. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. He had dungarees on and a blue work shirt. Wood rest till he brought the villains to justice. As in all things, so his thoughts came to him deliberately.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTI4LjIwMi45MiAtIDI4LTA2LTIwMjQgMDA6MzQ6MzkgLSA3MzIyMzc3MQ==
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