Pressing Peril, or, Nick Carter and the Star Looters

Excerpt: ''Oh, I say, old top!' Nick Carter stopped short and looked at the speaker. There was no mistaking his nationality. He was English to the bone. English in aspect, attitude, attire, and accent. English of the most pronounced and impressive type-but impressive upon as keen and thoroughbred an American observer as the famous New York detective chiefly because of the insipid and mildly obtrusive aristocracy that stuck out all over him. He was tall and slender. He wore a suit of pronounced plaid. He was about twenty-three years old, with yellow hair and the fair skin of a straight-bred Anglo-Saxon. He wore a monocle with a cord dangling from it, and through which one watery blue eye glared larger and brighter than the other.'