Hook was not his true name . To reveal who he really was would even at this date set the country in a blaze ; but as those who read between the lines must already have guessed , he had been at a famous public school ; and its traditions still clung to him like garments , with which indeed they are largely concerned . Thus it was offensive to him even now to board a ship in the same dress in which he grappled her ; and he still adhered in his walk to the school 's distinguished slouch . But above all he retained the passion for good form . Good form ! However much he may have degenerated , he still knew that this is all that really matters . From far within him he heard a creaking as of rusty portals , and through them came a stern tap-tap-tap , like hammering in the night when one can not sleep . ` Have you been good form to-day ? ' was their eternal question . ` Fame , fame , that glittering bauble , it is mine , ' he cried . ` Is it quite good form to be distinguished at anything ? ' the tap-tap from his school replied . ' I am the only man whom Barbecue feared , ' he urged ; ` and Flint himself feared Barbecue . ' ` Barbecue , Flint -- what house ? ' came the cutting retort . Most disquieting reflection of all , was it not bad form to think about good form ? His vitals were tortured by this problem . It was a claw within him sharper than the iron one ; and as it tore him , the perspiration dripped down his tallow countenance and streaked his doublet . Ofttimes he drew his sleeve across his face , but there was no damming that trickle . Ah , envy not Hook .
There XXXXX to him a presentiment of his early dissolution .
Have am came clung drew feared glittering guessed reveal trickle