MARK BRAND turned into the door of an Oxford Street office building, past the indicator-board which bore: “THE COUNSELLOR, Second Floor,” among the names of other concerns. He was a shade below middle height, wiry, quick-stepping, with a sparrow-like alertness; and his taste in fabrics favoured the louder varieties for his clothes. There was a hint of raffishness about him, a faint indefinable air of horsiness, though he seldom attended a race-meeting.
