It was either on the fourth or the fifth day after I had taken possession of my cottage that I was astonished to hear footsteps upon the grass outside, quickly followed by a crack, as from a stick upon the door.  The explosion of an infernal machine would hardly have surprised or discomfited¹ me more.  I had hoped to have shaken off all intrusion for ever, yet here was somebody beating at my door with as little ceremony as if it had been a village ale-house.  Hot with anger, I flung down my book and withdrew the bolt just as my visitor had raised his stick to renew his rough application for admittance.  He was a tall, powerful man, tawny-bearded and deep-chested, clad in a loose-fitting suit of tweed, cut for comfort rather than elegance².  As he stood in the shimmering³ sunlight, I took in every feature of his face.  The large, fleshy nose; the steady blue eyes, with their thick thatch⁴ of overhanging brows; the broad forehead, all knitted and lined with furrows⁵, which were strangely at variance⁶ with his youthful bearing.  In spite of his weather-stained felt hat, and the coloured handkerchief slung⁷ round his muscular brown neck, I could see at a glance he was a man of breeding and education.  I had been prepared for some wandering shepherd or uncouth⁸ tramp, but this apparition⁹ fairly disconcerted me.