CHAPTER SIX
Leopold Darden, prematurely gray-haired, with an almost cherubic face, soft, full lips like a girl's, a classic Roman nose, almost no eyebrows and high-arching forehead, examined himself critically in the hand mirror. He took the comb and made his hair more wavy. Satisfied, he put down the comb, took up a perfume atomizer and sent a waft of elusive Caron at his fleshy neck. He was forty-eight, paunchy, about five feet ten inches in height, a fastidious gourmet, an avid numismatist, and an even more avid cocksmith. The effeminate touch of perfume and such clothes as he now wore (a blue, neatly tied cravat, a gauzy blue silk shirt, dacron slacks, a pair of jockey shorts and sandals) belied his real habits in the bedroom. Leopold Darden was not only the equal of his business part
