It seemed incredible that such an almost grotesque arrangement of coiffure should adorn the head of a man in modern evening dress. It should have been on some Byzantine saint. However, there he was, and entirely unconcerned at the effect he was producing.
The waiters, who probably knew his name and station, precipitated themselves forward to serve him, and with leisurely mien he ordered a recherche dinner and a pint of champagne.
Stella Rawson was much interested and so were her uncle and aunt.
"What a very strange-looking person," Mrs. Ebley said. "Of what nation can he be? Erasmus, have you observed him?"
Canon Ebley put on his pince-nez and gave the newcomer the benefit of a keen scrutiny.
"I could not say with certainty, my dear. A northerner evidently—but whether Swedish or Danish it would be difficult to determine," he announced.
"He does not appear to know he is funny-looking," Stella Rawson said, timidly. "Do you notice, Aunt Caroline, he does not look about him at all, he has never glanced in any direction; it is as if he were alone in the room."
"A very proper behavior," the Aunt Caroline replied severely, "but he cannot be an Englishman—no Englishman would enter a public place, having made himself remarkable like that, and then be able to sit there unaware of it; I am glad to say our young men have some sense of convention. You cannot imagine Eustace Medlicott perfectly indifferent to the remarks he would provoke if he were tricked out so."
Stella felt a sudden sympathy for the foreigner. She had heard so ceaselessly of her fiance's perfections!
"Perhaps they wear the hair like that in his country," she returned, with as much spirit as she dared to show. "And he may think we all look funny, as we think he does. Only he seems to be much better mannered than we are, because he is quite sure of himself and quite unconscious or indifferent about our opinion."