“Before taking the irreparable step,” said Sigebert, placing himself in front of his customer, and regarding him steadfastly, “let me ask if you have reflected?”
“What d'ye mean?” cried Walter, staring at him in surprise.
“Excuse me, sir,” rejoined the hairdresser, “but have you positively determined to part with that magnificent beard?”
“I don't like to lose it, I confess,” replied Walter. “But I have no choice.”
“That's hard. Never in my experience have I beheld a finer beard, nor better grown. I shall be loth to cut it.”
“You are pleased to compliment me,” said Walter.
“It is not my habit, sir, I assure you. Generally I am frank to a fault. Apropos des barbes, I will tell you a curious story. A gentleman called here last evening, and inquired whether a very tall young man, dressed in a grey tweed suit, exactly like yours, sir, and having a particularly handsome brown beard, the very ditto of yours, sir, lodged in the Lambeth Road, or hereabouts. I told him I had not remarked any such person; but you, sir, answer precisely to the description. Strange you should put in an appearance next day!”
“That's why you stared at me so hard when I entered the shop?” cried Walter.
“Couldn't help it, sir. Quite startled.”
“And now for a description of the individual who has taken the liberty to inquire about me?” said Walter.